Everyone Loves A Drop Of Bolly
The ear-splitting wail bounced off the tall walls, echoing thrice before receding into an inaudible sound. As a result the footsteps approaching stopped as a shadow engulfed the figure lying upon the bed. The dark outline drew a sharp contrast against the light backdrop in the room. The large space welcomed the cold shadow, encouraging it in, asking for more. The shadow contracted as the man from whom it was cast crouched to touch the figure. Two dark leather gloves fell to the floor as the hands of this man reached the face of the figure. It was a female, with soft brown hair and green eyes, currently closed. Her face pale and cold and her body disturbingly still. The blue gown fell to her uncovered knees, her feet covered in white cotton. Her arms lay limp beside her, a single bangle around her wrist, identifying her. The man's rough hands stroked a single piece of fallen hair from her eyes and lingered there a moment longer than necessary. His eyes took in the scene before him. Full of many emotions he took her soft face in both hands and shook her. The sounds escaping his lips getting louder with each shake.
'Bolly, Please. Bolly. Don't do this. BOLLY! DON'T DO THIS TO ME! '
His face twisted in anger as he took one last fleeting look and turned back towards the door. He stood still, the thoughts of the events unfolding in front of him. The doctors were unsure if she would ever return to this world. He left, once again, to the back drop of a single screech. If he had only stopped to listen he would have heard the words which had just escaped Alex's lips.
***
The images flashed once then they were gone. Obscured by the bright lights and pale contrast. Once again they flashed, a few seconds before they were gone. The outline of a door was possible to make out. They flashed once again to reveal bright lights above, a small bedside table and a chair in the far left corner. Soon the image disappeared and nothing was left but a faded sound of an official voice being played over and over again, as if through a broken radio.
''We are still identifying the problems in Alex's case. There appears to be some cranial problems which would result in the unconscious state which she seems to be experiencing now. We are working our hardest to bring Alex back to a healthy, conscious state. We will call you when we have any information. Thanks for your time Inspector.'
A more familiar voice made its way through the crackly system, a totally different wave length then the first. Clearer, louder, Softer almost.
'Just get her out of there okay? You are supposed to be the best of the best. Prove it. Right I'm off, been reports of a junkie being killed.'
The voice faded out and as it did so a single word escaped the distressed patient's mouth.
'Gene?'
***
The screech of car tires reached the ear of the Detective Chief Inspector before anyone else. The off-white coloured car reached its destination as the doors opened to reveal his two most trusted men. Carling and Skelton walked over to Hunt, both rubbing their heads and look of thunder on their faces.
'Alright Guv, Err... Shaz said something about a body being found in a park?' Chris asked his superior sleepily, his hand ruffling up his highlighted hair.
'Waste of time, if you ask me, overdose. Why is CID in on this? Got me outta bed for a fucking Junkie.' Carling spat his final words out then lit a fag, not offering them around.
'Stop complaining and get in the Quattro you miserable gits!' Giving Skelton a shove before turning.
The three men walk in unison, leaving the off-white car behind them and entering the Guv's Quattro. The car started and, with the typical screech of the tyres, turned the corner and left, the flash of deepest red lingering a moment longer then needed. The roads were surprisingly quiet as the men arrived at the scene. The gardens the body had been found in were wild and unkept, Chris slipping on a fallen plank of wood before joining the rest of his team. A young PC by the name of Greene welcomed them and showed them to the body. The man was young, late 20's Hunt would guess. He had a boyish innocent face, though looks can be the perfect mask for a criminal to hide behind. The victim was of a slim build, wearing clothes too big for him and a large slash in the yellow top he was wearing, although no blood was present. The body lay in an unnatural position; his head slumped and laid on a large rock. The man's arms lay across the chest, hands clamped on the opposite shoulder, as if in a coffin and his feet crossed.
'Do we have a Name?'
Pulling out a notepad, the PC answered Hunt's question by handing him a sheet of paper. Hunt put it in his pocket without a glance.
'Was found on him, Daniel Haynes, aged 28. The note seems to be a suicide note, but considering the way he was found it appears he had help with moving his body. Murder is high on the cards. Post Mortem results should be here by Wednesday.'
'And the slash? Recent wound or was he that much of a junkie he had to wear these tatty clothes?'
'Appears to be old clothes. No visible wounds from quick inspection, although this was found on him' Greene threw Chris a bag, in which the contents were cocaine.
'Oh, now this is getting interesting. So Drugs seems to be the MO? Simple.' Hunt turned to go, putting on his gloves and shoving his hands into his suit pockets. The harsh rustling of paper made the DCI stop. He pulled it out and read it. His face dropping he returned the grim look the PC was giving him. Hunt muttered on one word.
'Shit.'
***
The doors of Fenchurch east opened and closed with a bang. Viv behind the desk shouted out as the mature man with grey hair, shocking blue eyes and en exquisite suit walked without hesitating through the station.
'Excuse Me Sir. Can I help you? Erm…Sorry Sir, but you can't go there.'
The man didn't even glance at Viv before opening the door leading to CID. Viv grabbed his arm pulling him back and stared him in the eye.
' Sir, I must ask you to return to reception.'
The man finally meet his glance, unwillingly. He held his eyes there, holding him there, threateningly. This was quite clearly a man not usually challenged.
'I need to speak to DI Drake. I believe she works here?' His voice was cold, hard and one of authority.
'I'm afraid she is not here at the moment. Who are you sir? What is this regarding?'
The man's eyes wondered down to his shoes before speaking, his voice strong and confident.
'That is of no concern to you. I need to speak to her now.'
'I'm afraid that will be near impossible considering...'
'NOW! Tell me, where is she?!'
His voice raised in anger, grabbing Viv's arms. Anger flashed in his eyes, quick, unexpected but left so quickly Viv was unsure if it was there at all. Viv hesitated, he could of sworn them eyes were those of Drake's but upon re-examination he found he was wrong. Dismissing this thought he answered the man's question.
'Room 67, Intensive Care Unit.'
The man eyes widened, his arms dropped, as did his knees. Viv stared at the man lying on the floor in front of him, and called for an ambulance.
***