Chapter 8: Round Two
Ding, ding, ding – ROUND TWO.
In this corner - me at the station, in my private office, sitting at my desk, doing paperwork. In the opposite corner - the very large and dead Mr. Eric Northman, asking at the front desk if I was in my office.
It was several nights after the Twilight Zone shopping spree. I did not see this coming. I had thought common sense on both our parts would keep us at a distance; apparently, Mr. Northman felt differently.
Uh-oh. He's walking towards my office. For a moment, I considered hiding under my desk.
My office has three solid walls and the fourth wall is made of glass. It allows me a view of the officers' desk area and I can see a sliver of the front processing desk. The whole glass wall had shades that I could draw if I wanted privacy. I normally left my door open as a welcoming gesture.
I could see him coming. He was dressed completely in black, which complemented his slicked back, blonde hair. It registered in my brain for the first time – he's very tall. I knew he was tall, but the only time I had ever seen him standing, I was delirious. He towered over everyone as he walked by them. His size, presence, and beauty were quite a sight. He was truly magnificent. All eyes in the room were on him and many were admiring him as much as me.
He had no expression at all. His eyes where dark, shiny, and unblinking – that dead shark eye stare that I've become oh-too familiar with.
Oh shit. Jo, take this opportunity to turn things around. Be nice, professional, polite – keep it together!
I stood up and met him at my office door, "Well good evening, Mr. Northman. This is a pleasant surprise." I stepped aside so that he could come in, "Please come in." He walked straight over to the front of my desk and stood there. "May we have some privacy, Sheriff?"
"Oh of course. Just give me a second here." I closed the door and then walked over to the shades on the glass wall, and pulled them shut.
Without looking at me, he said 'Thank you,' and sat down in one of the chairs facing the front of the desk.
I walked over to my desk and sat, "Well, what can I do you for?" Easy girl - and smile nicely, Jo. Now act the way you had practiced.
"I believe that some of my properties in your jurisdiction are being vandalized, probably by youths in the area. I believe that the destruction falls into the category of 'hate crime.'"
"How do you know it's kids?"
"I have video footage. You can't make out faces, but you can clearly see that the vandals are young." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a DVD case and placed it on my desk. "I made a copy of the tape, as well as pictures of the vandals' work. All of which are on the DVD in that case."
I reached over and picked up the DVD, and placed it in front of me. "Mr. Northman, you should have called us when this happened. It is better for the police to take the evidence; your evidence may be viewed as subjective and the authenticity could be called into question."
"I see, so you plan to do nothing about this."
"No sir - that is not what I am saying. I'm suggesting that you call us immediately when this happens, if it happens again, and let us conduct the investigation."
We stared at each other for a few seconds, neither with expression. "Would you allow my officers access to your property so that we could investigate the scene?"
"No. There is no longer evidence. I had it cleaned up."
"Oh." That was very odd, he should know better. "Well, sir, at this time, I suggest that you file a statement with us. This …"
"So your solution is for me to fill out useless paperwork?"
"Sir, I know it sounds pathetic, I really do, but at this time…"
"Sheriff, do you know what is pathetic? The disrespectful, unprofessional behavior you exhibit towards me, EVERY TIME WE MEET." He was clenching his jaw, and chewed out the last four words.
Then, the oddest thing happened, he moved so fast, that I really didn't even see him move, it was more like a black blur. The next thing I knew, he was bent over my chair, with both hands on the arms of the chair, glaring down at me.
It happened so fast that I couldn't process it. I was in shock; I just stared back at him with my mouth gaping open.
He bent closer to my face and whispered, "Trust me when I say, that the next time you insult me in front of one of my underlings, I will not let it pass."
Then I heard a cracking sound on the right side of my chair. I looked down and saw that he had broken off the arm of my chair. My chair was metal. He broke metal.
He then slowly placed the chair arm on my desk and all the while staring straight into my eyes. "Consider this as my formal statement of complaint." His eyes had no expression; they seemed to have turned blue-black in color.
He reached towards my still-gaping mouth; I flinched, pulling away from his hand. He grabbed my chin, not roughly, but firmly. His hand was cool in temperature. He very gently stroked the line of my chin with his thumb. I heard a sound that was so faint, it was hard to discern at first, but then I could hear very plainly. It was startling - he was growling. He looked into my eyes, still no expression showing in his eyes or face.
"You really need…to keep your mouth closed…or you'll catch flies." He gently pushed my jaw up, closing my mouth. He then smiled slightly, but his eyes didn't smile, they were intense, so very black in color, and were focused on my mouth.
I definitely got all the meanings behind his last phrase - flies flying into the mouths of alive and dead people.
He abruptly stood up and looked down at me for a few seconds and then turned and walked out of my office, closing the door behind him.