I wanted to write a Grillows long story, the idea came and I just started it.
Again I tell you I'm Italian but I love English. Please, don't have mercy on me: I don't need it. I need healthy criticism.
Enjoy yourselves,
A Fool
One
She saw David Hodges at her door and rolled her eyes.
"Catherine …" he called her, a hand on the glass.
She showed him the mobile she was holding against her ear and lifted a eyebrow, as to say … go away! But Hodges didn't.
"Catherine!" he whispered "It's important!"
She paused the call and burnt him with a terrifying look.
"Hodges I can't now, please come later"
Without waiting for the answer, she restarted the call again. Maybe it was a policemen. Maybe it was a teacher, maybe a luminary. Or maybe it was her daughter. Hodges didn't care. He just entered the room and grabbed the phone from her hand. Then he closed it.
"When I say that something is important," he let a sheet of paper fall on her desk "it is important."
She had no words. She was staring at him with her mouth wide open and was more amused than angry. She turned the paper and read it. Gradually she became paler. The vague smile vanished from her lips. When she looked up at Hodges she was so serious that he got scared.
"Repeat the analysis" she ordered.
"Do you think I did not, before coming here and telling you?"
She read the paper again, all over again, from the beginning till the end. She bit her bottom lip.
"Catherine …" Hodges tried, taking a step forward "… what does … what does this mean?"
She gave him a strange, cold look. It seemed she was empty, it seemed that all her feelings had abandoned her body.
"Could you leave me alone, David? Call the team in the lab. I'll come in a minute."
He silently obeyed. He knew the news he had taken to her was heavy and unexpected. As soon as the door closed behind him, she let a hand reach her head. Fingers and hair met and melted. She closed her eyes and sighed. When she reopened them they accidentally fell on the paper.
She whispered the name that was written in the bottom of the page.
"Gilbert Grissom"
TWO DAYS BEFORE
It was a fucking bad day.
When the call had come she was sleeping perfectly. The arms on the pillow, the mouth opened a little, a regular breath. But that damned telephone had ruined everything.
"Willows" she mumbled after searching for the mobile.
"It's Brass. We've got a 419 in a garage. You come?"
In the bathroom she smiled, as she remembered that Brass had a sleepy voice too. So she wasn't the only one who'd been ripped out of her bed that morning, she realized while wearing the pair of trousers she had prepared the day before. She buttoned the blue blouse up and grabbed her jacket and the car keys.
Despite the way that day had begun, she was stunning. Her blond hair were straight and shiny in the dark air of the night. The walk was firm, the eyes were alert. Brass was waiting for her on the street. He said hi to her by lifting up the head.
"Who's the victim?" she asked while they were reaching the garage.
A few policemen were in the desert field the garage had been built on. She recognized Greg and Sara talking in the entrance.
"Robert Damage, age forty-two, Caucasian. We found his wallet full of dollars."
"So the simplest motif is out. No robbery. Hi guys."
Greg and Sara both offered her a weak smile and followed her in.
The victim was laying down on the pavement. He was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, both clean and complete. There was no blood around him.
"Any idea about the cause of death?" Catherine asked.
She crouched near the victim and observed his body. She noticed three deep circles round each of his wrists.
"The murderer left nothing on his face, neither on the neck. Apart from the wrists, you should think he was in good health. But look here."
Sara knitted down and lifted up the t-shirt. Catherine tilted the head and sighed as she saw what Sara wanted to show her. There were three deep cut on his chest, all very close and parallel.
"They're about six inches long."
"No blood around the wounds. Did he wash the victim?"
Sara nodded.
"That's the only explanation."
"And he smells good, too. Someone stabs you this way and you don't sweat? Not even a little?" added Greg, who was standing behind Catherine.
"Where is David?" asked her calmly. She straightened the legs, followed by Sara.
"He's coming."
Catherine nodded and gestured to them.
"Greg, you go outside. Sara and I will think about the inside."
He obeyed her and went out.
The two women were concentrating on the body when Greg's voice called them. He was shouting. He ran up to the door of the garage and wickedly smiled in their address.
"Hey girls, be kind. Remember to thank the bastard, when we get him."
Catherine and Sara glanced at each other when they saw he was holding a environment in his left hand.
There was a bloody knife inside.