To properly employ the power of suggestion, Cykes-sama had taught him that one must wear both calmness and self-assuredness the way an emperor would their crown.
Currently, Simon Blackquill is bare of either.
"This is preposterous!" Simon attempts, for the second time, to step around what is obstructing his entrance to the post office—and the crime scene: an exhaustingly uncooperative officer.
"I'll let the chief of police know what you think of standard procedure." The officer shakes his head, disapproving. "Just like every other noob prosecutor we get around here. Thinks he's the exception to the rule."
He doesn't want to have to do this—what weight does he have to throw around?—but if he can't stand up to a supercilious foot officer, how would he square off against remorseless criminals or underhanded defense attorneys in the court of law?
"Officer... " Simon squints at the patch across the officer's left breast. "...Officer Stone. I do not think it would bode well for your reputation—or your annual review—if Detective Vatai were to come out and see that the prosecutor on her case was being prohibited from entering. If you were to grant me access now, I can safely say that no one will know of this... situation between us. I can not keep that promise if you were to deny me again."
"Save the bluffing for the courtroom, kid. Detective Vatai ain't here."
"Wh...?" Simon blinks, perplexed. "No, I am certain she is the lead on this case; I was told as much but a few hours ago."
"Maybe you were." Officer Stone shrugs. "But she's not here now, and that's what matters. Until the lead detective shows up on this case to give the okay, you're stayin' put. And I doubt it's her, because she'd have this place combed over twice before any of us got here."
What is even more incomprehensible than this officer's behavior is that fact that his assigned partner, Senior Detective Priya Vatai has yet to arrive on the scene. A distinguished veteran of nearly three decades, Detective Vatai specialized in violent crimes—and in getting results. Simon had met her but once during his initial tour of the police station, and was honored beyond words when informed last night that she would be leading the investigation on his very first case as a prosecutor.
He understands how some might take it as a slight—that, as a novice, he needs steady, even overbearing guidance to achieve a successful outcome. But his perception of Detective Vatai, from that one meeting, leads him to believe she will be amiable and respectful towards him.
If only she would show up.
He wills himself not to think of what should happen if she doesn't, not when such a disaster would mean all the good luck Athena wished him—and even, put into physical form by giving him a favorite hair tie to sport around his wrist, a charm of sorts—would be for naught.
Simon tries one final stratagem. "Do you need proof of my identity, my occupation? Will that do? Here..." He undoes the first stay on his topcoat, enough to show off the tiny badge tacked to his vest's pocket. "My prosecutor's badge."
He never receives an answer, only another disruption adding to his ever-growing litany of annoyances.
"Hey Wally, sorry I'm late!"
Charging up the steps and stopping at Simon's side is perhaps one of the strangest human beings he's ever seen, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear. In fact, Simon could count PONCO and CLONCO and all their beta versions as less of an oddity than the man who causes Officer Stone to switch his stern countenance into a welcoming smile.
"Oh, hey, Bobby!" He jovially swats the newcomer on the shoulder. "You joining the investigation today?"
"Darn right I am! In fact, I'm heading it." A ball-chain necklace swings low from around Bobby's neck, holding a shiny badge encased in a sturdy leather frame. Bobby lifts the badge with unbridled enthusiasm. "My first case as lead detective!"
"Detective?!" Simon spits out incredulously, and this Bobby character turns towards him with a smile bright enough to be seen from space.
"Yes, Sir!" The officer—well, detective—lets the badge drop, and extends a hand in obvious hopes of having it shaken. "Bobby Fulbright's the name! You must be Prosecutor Blackquill, the newbie. It's nice to meet you!"
Simon cuts him off. "I was told Detective Vatai would be the lead on this case, not... someone else." He makes the displeasure of this newest development known in the once-over he gives Fulbright, from his feathered blond hair to the trendy loafers linchpinning an ensemble that looks spewed right out of the 1970's. Simon's not one to care about fashion, but he does care about professionalism, and it's evident Detective Fulbright does not, his cardigan sweater better suited for an octogenarian in a nursing home than for a detective.
Nor does he seem to care—if he notices at all—about Simon's appraisal of him, eschewing the introductory handshake and retrieving a folded paper from the back pocket of his stonewashed jeans. "I'm a last-minute replacement. It's all right here, Sir!"
Simon snatches it from Fulbright, recognizing the form immediately from his studies and shadowing. The paperwork officially detailing all those involved in a case. The only thing that matters, that he absorbs, is the names B. Fulbright and S. Blackquill under the boxes of Lead Detective and Prosecutor.
"Does this follow standard procedure, Officer Stone?" He asks his adversary calmly, without a hint of the animosity that was present before Detective Fulbright arrived.
With a nod, Officer Stone steps aside and even pushes the heavy door open for Simon and Detective Fulbright.
"Thanks Wally!" Fulbright waves back to his colleague. "In justice we trust!"
What the bloody hell is he on about? Or, more importantly...
"Where is Detective Vatai, if not the lead on this case?" Simon asks as they walk hurriedly through the post office's main lobby, which stretches a full city block, towards the elevators.
"Oh, nothing to worry about, Sir!" The motion of Fulbright's gait reveals that between his hideous shoes and outdated jeans are no socks whatsoever. Simon can't fathom why, and yet, it all seems to make perfect sense for what little he has learned about Bobby Fulbright. "Her daughter went into labor this morning, and she's at the hospital with her! She's going to welcome her first grandchild into the world. Isn't that wonderful?"
"It's in—" Inconvenient, Simon finishes mentally as he trips out an edited answer. "Incredible."
Which is not a lie. Because this day has so far, in fact, broken through any normal parameters of credibility.
And Simon has a feeling, as he and Fulbright step into the elevator and descend to the underground loading dock, that it will only continue in the same vein.