When Time Stands Still

Amber waves of light pierced through the lascivious dance of white curtains as they flowed and ebbed in the current of the wind. The walls were close and painted the purest white which forced the sunrise’s brilliance into every corner of the room. There was no door to the room. Four walls and a window, and yet heaven. The solar luminescence kissed the skin of a beautiful woman. She smiled and laughed as her golden hair flowed. She laid there transfixed in infatuation. Blushing she rolled over. She took a handful of blankets and flicked them back. An overwhelming flurry of sheets and covers flashed and suddenly there she was again. At the foot of the bed this time. Her arms crossed she smiled and called.
         “Get out of bed.” A moment passed before she grew terse “Up, out of bed. Now!” Finally a hypothermic sensation was debilitating as survival instincts secreted adrenaline.
Suddenly consciousness.
         The sleeping man was now walking through the street in a freezing torrent of water and wind. The sidewalk reminded him of his assistant. They were both stalwart and unyielding and yet supportive. The leather jacket around his shoulders kept the bulk of the rain from completely soaking him. The jacket was also her idea.
         Leon Harrison shot up from his bed in a shaking and yelling fit. His apartment flashed into existence before him. The dirty clothes, the dirty dishes, the dirty furniture, all awaited their pampering with unending patience in their respective areas. The clothes were in a hamper beneath a void of empty clothes hangers in the closet nearby his bed. Connected to the “bedroom” was the “lounge” comm “living room” comm “office.” A leather couch with a tear over the right armrest sat perpendicular to a foldout lawn chair, both were around a knee high coffee table that had plenty of appropriate stains from spills. Nearby the “lounge” comm “living room” comm “office” the floor went from comfortable carpet to tough tiles. The unyielding surface was littered with crumbs and the like. A laminate countertop lined the far wall and sheltered drawers underneath. Finally connected to the “kitchen” was a bathroom. Simple, a shower, sink, and toilet all stood in companionship within the four walls of that dimly lit room.
         Back in the “bedroom” the renter of this fine apartment looked up in dismay to the source of his moist misery. His “assistant” comm “secretary” comm “employee” smiled to herself as she basked in the glorious results of her effort.
         “Man, you just would not wake up.” she chimed. Her voice was fun and perky as was everything about her. “I was starting to think that I might need to find a new job, and arrange a funeral.”
         “Sorry Naomi.” Harrison had managed to calm down after the startling wake up. His muscles were relaxing and he remembered what had held him so firmly in slumber. “I was dreaming.”
         “What about?”curiosity killed the cat and forced the young lady's tongue.
         “Vennessa.”
         “Oh I’m sorry, do you need a minute?”
         “Nah, I’m good.” The care in the young woman’s voice was surprising, although there weren’t many responses that were appropriate at this point. Maybe she was just trying to be sensitive?
         “Good, because you have work to do.” Not trying to be sensitive “Chief Morrison wants to talk to you A-S-A-P. Also you need groceries.”
         A quick glance at the digital clock on his phone revealed the time. “You got me up at seven thirty for this?”
         “It would have been seven o’clock sharp if you weren’t such a heavy sleeper.” The intended humor was lost on the sleep inebriated man. “Besides, you know Chief likes to meet you first thing.” There was reason for that much. Leon Harrison was a private investigator and a former police force detective. While it wasn’t illegal for the chief of police to hold meetings with a P.I. and former employee, they both thought it best if they were seen together as little as possible.
         Finally the bed creaked and groaned, or maybe that was the floorboards? Either way, Leon getting out of bed was a noisier process than it needed to be. He rose fully clothed. Jeans that were only frayed at the bottom from extended use. A white T-shirt which was surprisingly still white as the day he had bought it considering the coffee table. The chain to his wallet jingled as he rose, he didn’t wear the chain as a fashion statement but to ease the constant paranoia of losing his empty wallet. A pair of black boots stuck, jester-like out from under his pants. He smiled as he walked past his “assistant” comm “secretary” comm “employee” and exclaimed, “Ready.”
         “You’re seriously not even going to change clothes?”
         Leon motioned towards the empty closet and full hamper. “Add laundry to my list of things to do.”
         “Hey, it’s supposed to rain. Take your jacket!” Naomi commanded as Leon closed the door to his “lounge” comm “living room” comm “office” behind him. Now he stood in utter silence inside his reception room. A dark, wooden, desk dominated the room and several plush chairs sat along the wall. The chamber was painted a shade of blue and gray, a very “professional” color. Overall it seemed stern. It was also soundproofed in order to accentuate the attempted “professionalism”. Near the door stood a silver coat rack with extra prongs for hats. The soft carpet hid his footsteps as he walked towards the door. It was as though unnecessary noise was shunned here. Before he opened the door, the coat rack handed over his black leather jacket.
         Leon walked wherever he went. This was why he was one of the unlucky few that were forcing their way through the veritable maelstrom that threatened the steel and glass monoliths all around. Those constructs of man that challenged the sky and nature, mother nature had toppled their brothers in the past. Although now they stood stalwart. The borderline middle aged investigator below mimed the glass giant’s unperturbed nature. There was only one man in this city more stoic than it’s towers. Inside the most imperious building was the most spartan office, of which gave refuge to that very man.
         “You’re late” Leon had hardly stepped inside the room. The speaker sat upon his throne of authority molded by black leather behind his mahogany desk of command. A simple wooden chair sat opposite him, seemingly subservient. The Chief of Police had faded from his youth as an oak faded from fall to winter. Most of his hair was gone and what was left hid his upper lip with grey experience. He wore a blue policeman’s uniform except every open space was decorated in accomplishment. The boys in blue were apparently headed by the man in gold. Each award shone a bright yellow, whether metallic or fabric his opulence overcame his age.
         “You didn’t give Naomi a time.” The relative youth rebutted.
         “You have icing right here.” The Chief dragged his thumb over the side of his mouth. “When I said A-S-A-P I don’t mean stop for a donut then come over. That makes you late.”
         The point was accurate. There was, in fact, icing at the corner of his mouth which he swept into particles of nothingness. “So what’s the case chief?” There were only two reasons why Leon would receive a call from The Chief. He either had a mystery he didn’t want any of his official employees getting into, or a mystery that only Leon could solve. The veteran investigator slid the wooden chair around him, over the economy carpet, and underneath his buttocks.
         The Chief clattered through a drawer in his desk. Soon a tan file flopped onto the hardwood surface. “Open it.” he commanded.
         Leon flipped open the folder uncovering a wall of text. Reports. Testimonies. Archived investigations. “What is this?” He inquired.
         “A compilation of completely random and unrelated, everyday crimes.”
         “Why are you showing me this?”
         “I noticed an increase in these type of crimes, my friends noticed it as well.”
         “You mean Cossicrovi?”
         “Yep” Cossicrovi was the head of the local organized crime scene. His salt and pepper hair betrayed his youthful nature. He was charismatic, friendly, forgiving, and the worst person to cross. He usually wore a completely white suit and cops new to look the other way when he was around. He also kept the streets clear of small time crime. The mob boss made most of his money off smuggling weapons through the city, and of course selling these illegal firearms to whoever was looking to buy with the guarantee that if anyone ever used them for anything illegal they would be hunted down and “removed”. He had come to a deal with The Chief, Neither of them step on the other’s toes and everything stays peachy as long as crime rates stay low. Chief Morrison continued. “There’s no reason for this sudden increase, no population fluctuations, no civil unrest.”
         Leon objected. “You don’t think Cassicrovi’s playing you, do you?”
         “No, he’s been having some competition actually, we think there’s someone knew in town.”
         “But you said these crimes were unrelated.”
         “They are.” Morrison began. “Except they’ve all targeted locations where they could make off with eight to thirteen hundred dollars. No more and no less.”
         “You think someone is doing research behind the scenes then.” this question was a statement of exclamatory reasoning.
         “Exactly, and I think I know the next place they’re going to hit.” The Chief flipped through several pages in the file before coming to rest on one in particular. His index finger tapped a picture of Joe’s gas grab. A gas station and grocery store mixed into a small corner lot.
         “I don’t suppose you’ve alerted the owner to this development?”
         “Hell no, the press hasn’t caught onto the crime increase and I’m not about to let this new ringleader know that I’m onto him.”
         “So where do I come into the picture?” A fair question to propose from Leon.
         “So far all of these guys have gotten away clean, our response times aren’t great and I feel like there’s more to it then that.” He suddenly flipped back several pages to a wall of witness testimonies. “So far every witness has been the cashier, they’ve always reported some distraction from another customer who is nowhere to be found when the cops show.”
         “Possible accomplices?”
         “Likely.”
         “Security cameras give us anything?”
         “Only that the cashiers are telling the truth. Whoever these guys are, they know how to avoid cameras. The distraction usually walks in yawning, sneezing, or coughing to cover their face for the entrance cam. Then they weave around and ‘accidentally’ break or spill something. Cashier comes out from around the counter and boom. Robber comes in with a mask and a gun.” The whole thing sounded awfully organized to be completely random and unrelated.
         “So what? I’m going to be the party crasher?” Leon held an arm forward.
         “We don’t know if they’ll go through with it if someone’s inside the store. So far it’s always been when no one’s around at the middle of the night. Worst case scenario you prevent a crime with your presence alone.”
         “Ok mastermind, how do we even know if they’re going to hit Joe’s next?”
         “They’re the only place that hasn’t been hit that has low security like the rest of them. It’s where I’d hit next.” The Chief seemed sure enough of this much. Thirty years on the force had given him this sixth sense.
         “So let’s assume you’re right.” There was one problem “I’m no Jet Lee Chief. I can’t take down two guys, especially if one has a gun.” This was a fair point, but Morrison remained steadfast.
         “I’m not asking you to arrest them or even stop the crime. You aren’t a cop anymore Harrison. I’m giving you a leed here. Take the case and get to the bottom of this. You crack this case and you’ll get the payout you’ve needed for a while.”