Dear Lucy,
Despite the fact that I heavily loathe the nickname you have decided to grace, I suppose I cannot force you to alter it. My father, who is actually a professor, as you are aware, wouldn't quite find it amusing. I am, unfortunately, privy to your poor sense of humor. I cannot think of a nickname appropriate of equal scorn in regards to your name, so I will use your first name for now.
I am not surprised of the reaction towards the Yard. Dartwright hates me just as much as I hate him, as I have mentioned. I apologize that he has made your life difficult. What I wouldn't do to cut his tongue, believe me. To see the way his eyes would just widen as I caused him to bleed profusely? Beautiful. As for the Commissioner, I ask that you don't ask him about me. He may find our correspondence odd and perhaps even inform my father. I don't believe he's aware of you quite yet—I'd like for it to stay that way before he begins to meddle.
Based on how your letter sounds, it appears you have questions on why your associates have reacted in such a volatile manner—at least some of them. Justin was my former best friend, who felt betrayed at the concept of me doing cocaine and hated it. He has quite the high horse when it comes to his morals, to which I hold much irritance but no ill will. Hilda was my former lover. I had...a large falling out with her after she took Justin's side. Never quite saw me the same way. She was interesting, to say the least. Sniffer and Dustin were relatively new, only really meeting my cocaine side, I don't find their response surprising.
Florence...well, I do not deny I hold a soft spot for her at the very least. We were both starting in our respective positions when we first started. Taking up cocaine in the Mystery Room while she was still at the Yard wasn't much of a mistake, but it certainly did prove how much better my 'other personality' is. What she says is correct, she helped me cover up my drug habit until it became a chore rather than a favor. I did not force her to continue and made sure her name had nothing to do with my spot into rehab. She visits me, from time to time.
I wonder if my back office, the Mystery Room, is still waiting for me. It would be to no surprise that they would clear it out, but I can imagine how much work that would take. Besides, there's no cocaine there-they've checked. Drugs busts are always so frustrating. Tossing things around, looking for something they know they'll never find. Florence should have a spare key. I loathe asking for favors, but I must request that you go see it, if possible. I'm not necessarily seeking for anything, just to ask what it looks like after my absence.
I am particularly curious on how my Reconstruction Machine is working. You'll know what it looks like when you see it. I detested, back then, going into crime scenes when I was high. I normally heavily enjoy the being on the site of an actual crime scene, but being found out through my cocaine usage that early would not have been pleasant. That machine was used so I could inspect crime scenes without having to actually be there. It's quite the handy tool, especially when the scene of the murder has been cleaned up already. Pictures are so useless sometimes, especially when the people who take it tend to only know how to press a button instead of capturing the essence of a scene.
I find that this correspondence is aptly making my days at this rehab center much less irritating. My supervising doctor at least finds it that way, but believes that I should ask about you in turn. What lead you to being a Detective Constable? Not everyone quite finds this line of work interesting, some actually find it disturbing. I liked the disturbing nature, if you ask me.
Alfendi Layton
