Enigmatic
Ensemble
“Where
is it you’re off to, Brian? Costa Rica? Tomorrow, isn’t it?” Tony, another detective
in the homicide division, asked.
“Puerto Rico. Tomorrow. Friends of ours, Naomi and Rory
Brinwell, have just come back from there and highly recommend it. An island in the
Caribbean. Molly has been making all the arrangements,” Brian replied as he tidied up
his desk, thankful he wouldn’t be seeing it again for a month. Considering his
destination, Tony expected Brian’s voice to hold more enthusiasm, but with Chet Henroy
getting out of prison and their most recent case a family dispute that ended in tragedy,
Tony knew Brian was sinking into a depression they were both finding hard to avoid.
“I’m glad
you’re getting out of the country for a month. If Chet’s going to surface, it’s just
as well you be rested up before you hear from him again, in case he decides to carry out
his threats.”
“I should have killed him,” Brian said through clenched
teeth. His face would have sent shivers up the back of any normal person. “He’s just
going to do it again. You know it. I know it. The department knows it. Only the justice
system believes he deserves another chance on the outside with so-called civilized
people.”
“And we both know there’s no point in dwelling on it,
Brian. It’s the way to insanity,” Tony reminded him. “Our job is to solve the crime
and bag the bad guys. We can’t help what they do with the garbage after that.”
Brian ran his
fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. “I know. But I’m not sure how much longer
I can live with it. Time after time, we know we’ve just postponed rather than eliminated
the problem. I’ve lost my enthusiasm for this job, Tony. I’ve had it. I’m ready to
quit.” Brian slumped down in his chair and gazed off into nowhere.
Tony took his
feet off his desk, got up, and went over to Brian. Neither man was particularly
demonstrative, but now Tony put his arm on Brian’s shoulder. “I’ve seen that coming,
guy, what with Chet out. It reminds you too much of what he is and what he did. But
don’t do anything rash now. Go and have your holiday. Maybe when you return you’ll
feel differently—be able to cope with it all again. Come on.” He punched Brian’s
arm. “Up and out. Go home and pack.”
Brian got up from
his chair. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will bump the guy
off while I’m gone. I don’t think I’ll be able to resist doing it myself if I ever
see him again.”
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