The bouquet of flowers (the ones the florist had named and he forgot) bled water seeping through the gaps in clenched hands. The hands clutched around the stems had been there for the past two hours – he had walked from the florist to the prosecutor's office to wandering to the precinct.
He had had every reason to buy the flowers. All they missed was a home; there was not a marble slab to place them on nor an urn to lay beside. Instead all he had was to have them clenched in his hand as Gumshoe patted his shoulder.
"Did he not tell you anything before…?" Phoenix stared at the white petal that had fallen.
Gumshoe was hesitant in his reply, "Sorry, pal. I really am."
When Phoenix looked up he wanted to find that Gumshoe was lying; his time working with the detective left an easy read of the too honest black eyes. However, trying to look into those eyes was a feat in itself. It was wrong how Gumshoe's eyes flicked to the wall; they held no grief… Phoenix tried to excuse him by saying his detective work had led him slightly hardened but the soft heart of the detective defied that thought.
Phoenix swore there had to be something more to the body he had never seen. "Can I keep the note?"
"Um, sure," Gumshoe offered honest sympathy. "You've kept it long enough anyway…"
"Don't you need as evidence?" Phoenix asked, trying to prompt the detective into revealing what had been left behind in that specific Prosecutor's office.
Gumshoe looked lost for a moment before reinforcing his utterance, "We have enough to go on. I wouldn't have given you that so easily."
There was little conviction in his words but Phoenix's head was almost blank now he had so few people in his life that he was unsure on whether he was deluding himself.
Whatever it was Phoenix left the detective with no other words.
The damaged flowers were dumped outside by the precinct's own flowerbed.