Finn Jones stands with arms out, catching snowflakes in his hands, baffled by the sudden change in weather. It hadn't snowed in these parts for years and now they were predicting a full scale blizzard by midnight. Weird, Jack thought, that even with the storm coming, it was no longer cold outside. If anything, the air was warm and stuffy, even now at night. Midnight; no doubt by then he'd be half asleep on his sofa, all alone, finishing off what was left of his cheap liquor.
"Jones, get in here," Carter demands.
Jones manages to peel his weary body off the front of the car and walk along the path to the front door.
"The good Doctor seems to have calmed down," Carter informs, "He's ready to answer some questions,"
"Okay," Finn replies tiredly.
The Doctor sits on a brand new leather couch in the finely furbished lounge and as soon as Finn takes one step inside he cringes at the sight. These rich folk and their money. Made him sick, that he should work his balls off, seeing the things he has to see, only to return to a single roomed apartment with woodlice infestation. 'Work hard and reap the rewards,' Carter always told him. Well the rewards should've been coming by now.
He refocused himself and with a warming smile on his face, shook the Doctor's hand.
"Doctor… Bradley Cole?"
No reply.
"I'm detective Finn Jones. I was told you were ready to answer some questions?"
He better be, Finn thinks to himself. He was about to settle in for an evening's television and beer before the phone rang, one final call out. An upper class Doctor who'd been receiving threats meant they'd have to rush to his urgent need.
"There isn't much to tell," Cole says, "I didn't want to cause a huge scene like this,"
Of course you did, Finn thinks, "Perhaps you could tell me what this is all about?"
"I told the lady on the phone. Someone threatened me and my family. A taxi driver,"
"A taxi driver?"
"Yeah,"
A pause, "Did you get his cab number?"
"I… wasn't thinking straight. Didn't expect it,"
"He dragged you across half of town and you didn't think to look at his number?"
Cole emerges from beneath the veil of his hands, frustrated, "I didn't look, okay? Why are all you Cops so hard to deal with?"
"Calm down sir, I'm just doing my job. This man, this taxi driver… can you describe him?"
"Uh, yeah okay. Just a short fat guy with a bad temper,"
Finn was too tired to squeeze the information out of the Doctor. It was all pointless anyhow, they'd probably have him report to the station later, where all the details would be written down, to be scrutinised later on by the 'better' men on the force.
"Was there anything strange about the inside of the taxi?"
"What kind of question is that?" Cole snaps, "It was just a normal taxi,"
"Any idea why he might be threatening you or your family, Mr. Cole? Was there some kind of hostility prior to these threats?"
Cole hesitates, reassessing the situation properly for the first time, "It has something to do with a patient I'm seeing…"
Finn doesn't stop to take notes like other junior detectives might. He simply listens and all the information and it sticks with him, even in this fatigued state.
"You're a… criminal psychiatrist, right?"
"Yeah and it seems my new patient has friends… or enemies, that want to keep him in secure in his straight jacket,"
Finn tilts his head to the side, pondering the information he's been given.
"Jones!" the call comes, breaking his concentration.
Carter is beckoning him from the porch.
"I' need to leave. Something else has come up. Hitch a ride home in a squad car,"
"Right,"
"The Captain wants a report on his desk first thing tomorrow,"
"First thing? I'm already working over now,"
"Overtime?" Carter laughs, "I told you. If you wanna be a detective, your job is your life. There's no such thing as overtime. Get that report written, it should only be a short one,"
"What about the family?"
"I'm posting Hernandez on guard duty for the night,"
The following morning comes and no further snow has fallen. No blizzard as predicted. Finn curses his luck, hoping it would somehow cake the streets so he couldn't make his way to work.
He stares down at the report he's written, a measly two-paged brief with little meaningful information. His mind had drawn a blank when assessing all the points, mainly because there wasn't much to say. The case, if there was a case, was little more than a mystery at this point.
A half empty bottle of vodka sits on the table, reminding him of how much he drunk last night (before eventually falling asleep in front of some dumb chat show). Fortunately, the hangover is clean enough that he can ignore it, push it aside like all the other tired afflictions he is suffering with.
He almost forgets the report, walking half way out of his building before turning back to collect it, damned thing. A girl, Ellison Lee, was butchered yesterday, her young life cruelly snatched from her, yet all the bigwigs at the force could think about was jumping to the aid of this rich Doctor who'd been threatened by some irate tax driver. Protect and serve, justice for all… bias to the rich and powerful.
The station is cold inside, the half-melted snow overflowing at the doorstep turning the marble floor into some kind of slippery death trap. He doesn't have to walk too far to find the Captain's office.
"I said first thing, Detective,"
"Sorry, Chief," Finn says, slumping into a chair, "Traffic was hell,"
The chief, Fiona Jameson, holds out her hand. Finn passes her the report.
The most amazing thing about Fiona Jameson was in fact, that she was a woman. There had been cops at this precinct that had found difficulty in accepting her as their new Chief, all those months ago. But Finn had seen it pretty clear and pretty fast: Fiona Jameson was a complete hard ass, more than capable of filling the previous Chief's shoes.
She stares at him through rectangular specs, before looking back down at the creased paper, "My eight year old could write a better crime scene report that this, Jones,"
Jones replies with a mere shrug of his shoulders, inviting himself to a cigar, thinking the chief isn't looking.
"Don't touch those!" Jameson snaps.
"But you don't smoke,"
She looks up at him with a cold glare, "They were a gift. Put it down,"
Finn does so, but not without a sigh of discontent loud enough for the Captain to hear, if she was interested in hearing it.
"So, you heard the latest?"
"Chief?"
"Here's
a coincidence for you. Dr. Cole's patient: guess who?"
Finn
pauses, before urging her to continue.
She throws a file down on the desk for his perusal, "You've seen him before, right?"
The Chief didn't even need to ask. The man in the file is a murderer, a slayer of men, women and children. What made this one special, it was the first killer than Finn Jones had captured and brought in.
"Cole's patient is Jack Crispin, the Family Killer himself," the Chief says.
"What does this mean?" Finn asks.
"I don't believe in coincidences, Detective. Just last night you were standing at the crime scene of a murder with all the hallmarks of a Jack Crispin kill. Couple of hours after that and a well respected Doctor who's currently treating Jack Crispin receives threats of violence upon him and his family,"
"But Crispin is in the mental institute. How could he of killed that girl?"
"He couldn't. But there must be a connection, Finn. I want you and Carter to find it, fast. Dr. Cole is a well respected member of this community and close friend to our good Mayor. We have to be seen to be doing something on this case,"
"Yeah, yeah, I know,"
Behind the cool exterior, Finn starts to grow nervous. If there is a connection between the murder of Ellison Lee and the threats made on Doctor Cole, then he'd be getting his wish, justice for the murdered.
But at the same time, he'd be in direct pursuit of killer capable of the acts of extreme violence Jack Crispin had committed two years ago. Once more he'd be placed in the most dangerous place you could be in this city: in the sights of a psychopath. But it was his job, be he experienced enough or not.
One thing was for sure. He could forget about his Christmas holidays.