The name tags on the tables told us where to sit. Maura and I joined the round table which to my dismay was at the back of the room – too far from the buffet. We politely greeted our fellow mates, introducing ourselves.
"So, you are Rizzoli & Isles." A jovial looking man joked. "Most people think that you will win the game because you are the best. Let me say that I'm not among those." He said in an arrogant tone. His teammate rolled his eyes. He was actually good looking for a man, maybe a little bit too thin but he had the face of a supermodel. The jovial man – his name was Dr. Clark – gave an ugly chuckle which made me role my eyes.
Two more people arrived to our table and introduced themselves as Dr. Flinch and Detective Art. They turned out to be of the silent kind, listening to Dr. Clarks ranting about the stupid note in the envelope and this stupid conference.
I was honestly glad when the beverages arrived, taking a huge gulp of my white wine, blending out Dr. Clarks annoying voice and focusing on the last serving plates that arrived at the buffet. Even from the back I could spot a few yummy things and my mouth began to water while waiting for the declaration that the buffet was opened.
Maura wore her usual unreadable expression while playing absent minded with her wine glass.
Finally, the professor appeared with a microphone speaking of a successful day and how impressed he had been by the lectures and the results of our teamwork. He stated that he hadn't been surprised by some which made me wonder he was drunk or something. For one I hadn't seen him once during the two hours that had been dedicated for the so called workshop which made it impossible for him to know what we all had done. And two, there was no real case, only an ominous message on a sheet of paper.
He ended by declaring that the buffet open, which were the words I had been waiting for, hoping that the food tasted as good as it looked. This could be the only thing that would make the attending of the conference worth a while.
Maura followed me reluctantly to the tables at the front, only throwing in once that we should wait for the first storm of people to pass but I wouldn't have it. I was not going to wait until these people had stolen the best food.
I watched her pile up salad onto her plate while I patiently waited for the queue to move on to the unhealthy stuff. It wasn't a surprise that the good doc went for the healthy stuff. Not after the amount of cluttered arteries she must presumably have seen during her autopsies I assumed. I was grateful though that she didn't say anything when I began loading my plate with the greasy food.
When I was about to take some French fries, I heard a noise next to me. Dr. Clark appeared in my vision, stumbling and falling face down into the fries on the serving plate. Serving spoon still in mid-air I was about to curse the drunk people when I heard a gurgling sound coming from the man.
Now, that didn't sound good. Someone in front of me hurried to pull his face out of the fries and Maura pushed her plate into my hands to perform first aide. Dr. Clarks' face was blue and he was gasping for air.
With a swift move, the doc loosened the tie around his neck and checked for his air ways. Meanwhile I had shoved our plates onto the serving table to call an ambulance. Maura took a stethoscope out of her ever-present handbag and listened to the lung and heart. I stared onto the bare chest on which was the tattoo of a Pentagon.
The man had been declared dead by Maura by the time the EMT had arrived, and we all formed a circle around the guy whose empty eyes stared at the ceiling of the room. My eyes carefully scanned the crowd, and I took in the scene as the detective in me kicked into working mode.
A few questions were forming in my mind, but I remained silent. The professor reappeared with the microphone. But before he could say one single word, we suddenly heard another voice coming from a screen that was attached on a wall over the serving tables. The video of a masked man appeared. He was sitting at a desk in a white room and his crackled voice said:
The game has started now. As I told you earlier, there is a murderer hiding in plain sight amongst you. Catch him before he kills again!
I am now giving you the rating of the three best teams so far:
1 Rizzoli & Isles – for sticking together and remaining calm
2 Sandford & Rules – for not bashing their heads in suspicion
3 Clark & Gables – because I had to have a number 3
The screen went dark again, almost as quick as it had lit up and I – like the others – kept staring at the dark screen for a few more moments.
"What a shitshow!" someone called from the rows behind me, and I silently agreed. My eyes went to Maura who was standing next to me. Her lips were pursed, and I could see the wheels turning in her brain. I reminded myself that she was my partner now, and moved a bit closer. It was my duty to always protect my partners.
The professor was either a good actor or he was really surprised. Maybe he didn't know about the content of the workshop, or the game had just gotten out of hand. He ended up waving helplessly and moving away from the scene, leaving us to ourselves.
So, this was the first question: was Dr. Clarks' death real or not?
R&I
Almost an hour later we found ourselves sharing a booth in a nearby burger joint. After Dr. Clarks untimely death ,I didn't want to risk getting poisoned by any food from the buffet. Maybe the death had been staged, who knew, Maura had explained to me how easy it was to do so by using some special potion from a plant while walking over here. Anyways I wasn't up to touching the food at the hotel anymore.
I happily munched on my burger and sipped from my beer while watching Maura eating her salad. We were silent, hanging to our thoughts for a while. Then the doc wiped her mouth and fingers with a napkin and took out her notepad as I had suggested to make a list of questions that we needed to answer.
It stung a little bit that she had been surprised about my methodical way as if she had expected me to be chaotic. I was chaotic admittedly at some times, but I always reached my goals. It still stung despite being partly the truth.
After jotting down the questions we began filling in the answers we knew.
Was Dr. Clarks murder staged in some way?
If so, it was part of the plan
If not, the plan had gone wrong at some point
Possible motive for Dr. Clarks' murderer?
He wasn't very well liked because of his arrogant way
Some past happening from personal or professional life
Random victim of a killer on the loose
I shoved the last fry from my plate into my mouth and scrunched up my nose when finding it totally cold. Something was bothering me, and I tried to grab it while swooshing down the disgusting fry with a sip of beer.
In the academy they teach us to always start with the victim. Newer theories though animate detectives to think out of the box which was kind of ironic after decades of installing a credo into officers before turning it all over.
Maura stared at the questions as if she too felt like we were missing something. The ringing of her phone interrupted our thought-process. I took a sip of beer while watching her pull out the noisy device to check the caller ID.
"I have to take this." She stated and stood. A few minutes later she was pacing the pavement in front of the windows of the burger joint. I could see her smiling and even laughing – gestures that made her even more attractive. It surprised me that this woman who always looked so serious had these emotions in her.
The pang of jealousy hit me out of nowhere. The person on the other end of the line was most likely her husband or girlfriend. Comfort zone of my single life forgotten I somehow felt the wish that I was the one who made her laugh and smile like that.
"You're crazy, Rizzoli!" I chided myself and ordered another bottle of beer and another glass of wine for Maura.
