As a couple weeks pass the kid is starting to get pretty good. Every day there's another full page of questions waiting for me next to my coffee. You’d think that she’d have run out by now or at least get sick of asking me. That keen spirit sure is hard to kill. No matter how many tough days we had and late nights chasing down leads she’d come back the next day chipper as ever. Hope she can keep it up. The weight of this life isn’t easy. It can be taxing not only to you but your loved ones. As far as I can tell she doesn’t have a man in her life but if she did he probably feels pretty neglected. Not to mention being stuck with an old fart like me must make it even harder to meet someone. This morning around lunch time we sat by the pier to grab a bite. She made some kind of deli meat sandwich for me since she thinks “I don’t take care of myself.”. She’s even got me drinking water here and there.

“So Hanes. When you’re interrogating someone, you’ve always seemed to just know when people are lying. How do you do it?” She asked.

Yet another pow wow just as every day.

“You just have to look at people. Their eyes can tell you most things. The rest is mostly in body language.”

“Body language? Can’t people just hide that?”

“Sometimes. But everyone has a tell. It’s just like playing poker. You gotta learn when to tell that they are bluffing. Some people avoid eye contact. Some people make more. The more you get to know someone the easier it is.”

“Ok. But these are usually people you barely know.”

“Doesn’t matter. You just have to know where to look.”

She sticks her head in her notebook to jot down every last word. As if I even said anything.

“Where do I look?” She asks, keeping her pen firmly against the page.

“Turn around and let's look on the street.”

We flip our legs over the stone barrier by the water and take a look at the dozens of people walking.

“What do you see?” I ask her.

She scans the area looking at every individual trying to find any morsel of information she can.

“There’s… a lot of people.” she says sarcastically.

“No shit wise guy! Don’t look at all of them. Just pick one.”

She continues to scan left and right looking for the perfect candidate.

“I don’t know!” she says, throwing her hands in the air.

“Alright here.” I point out a man walking by. “How do you think his day is going?”

She inspects him head to toe.

“Bad?” She answers with uncertainty.

“Care to explain?” I ask condescendingly.

She pauses and continues to stare at the man.

“...No.” She says with a toothless grin.

“Alright I’ll explain. First his pace. He’s walking pretty fast compared to everyone else. You could say he’s just a fast walker but there’s a couple things that make me think otherwise. First: It’s twelve twenty five which means it’s likely the end of his break and based on his suit, he’s some corporate slob. Closest office near here is a ten minute walk away so I’m guessing he’s late. Next is his shoes. The lasses are on the verge of untying themselves so it stands to reason that he’s going at an unusual pace for him. You could argue that maybe he just keeps his laces tied all the time but judging by the heel, he takes the time to put on his shoe properly. Plus he likely polishes them every day based on how clean they are compared to how worn the bottom is. Oh ya and he’s tensing his left hand on the watch side. Barely taking enough time to actually look at the time. Just wants to know how many minutes are left.”

“First off wow. Second, I got none of that. He just looked worried.” She answers as she begins to scribble faster in her notes.

“You want to try again?” I ask her.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Sure. uh… How about that guy? He's also walking and has nice shoes. Seems pretty happy so maybe he is going on a date?” She says.

“Ya not bad. You can see he isn’t really dressed in any kind of uniform so a date is possible. I’d say the fact that he’s really taking the time to look at the scenery would indicate that he’s in no rush at all. What do you think he does for a job?”

“Umm… he is in sales. He has a nice watch that you would usually see some vendors wear.”

“That’s a theory. I think he’s a line cook.”

“A cook? But he’s all well dressed and neat.”

“The burns on his hands. Little spots all the way up his wrist that you usually see from oil splatter.”

“Good catch Hanes!” She says waving her pen in the air. “How do you spot that so quick?”

“I’m just always looking for it.”

“That sounds exhausting.” She says as she folds the top corner of the page she’s writing before closing her book.

“Wait a second! That means you did it for me didn’t you.”

“What makes you say that?” I answer jokingly.

“I’m just always looking for it!” She says mockingly.

I can’t help but grin at her shenanigans. Total goofball.

“Come on! Tell me what you saw about me.” She says nudging at my elbow.

“Not happening kid.” I say as I stand up and stretch out my back leaning as far backwards as my body can handle.

“Come on! That’s not fair!”

“Too bad. Come on, we’re going for a walk.”

She gets up in a hurried step.

“Where are we going?” She asks

“Part 2.”

We make our way towards the path that most of the pedestrians are walking.

“Clothes isn’t enough. It’s more of a way to get an idea of who the person is but at the end of the day it’s never fool proof. This is where the body language starts to kick in.”

“Ok what do I have to look for?”

“Start with the overall posture. Are they slouched over? Are they dragging their feet? Take a look at people right now. What do you see?”

“Umm… Well a lot of people don’t seem very happy to be here.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well most just look kind of sad.”

“Why would they be sad? It’s a warm day despite it being November. It’s a Friday so most people are likely just looking forward to the weekend.”

“Ya… but it’s something about their faces. Some of them looked concerned.”

“And what makes you say that? Come on, go into detail about it.”

“Ok… uh… that woman over there. The one pushing the carriage. Her face seems neutral but her shoulders are very tense. Oh and there’s a slight thinning of her lips as if she’s uncomfortable.”

“Good. That’s a nice way to start things. Is the person comfortable or not? Unfortunately most people we end up talking to aren’t so it’s not always helpful.”

“So start with that then go head to toe?”

“If you want to get methodical about it, sure. I just go with what I notice first. Sometimes the first thing you see doesn’t mean shit. But if you saw it you know you didn’t miss it.”

We make a round and do a couple more people while making our way to the squad car.

“You know this just makes me even more curious as to how you profiled me when we met?” She said with this smug look on her face.

“You know I’m even less inclined to tell you the more you ask?”

“Oh so there’s a possibility?”

“Don’t get your hopes up kid.” I say as I nudge her shoulder to shoulder.

Once we are within earshot of the car we can hear over the radio they’re calling us.

“Detectives Hanes and Ashe, do you copy?” We hear.

Ashe runs to the car to answer. Ever so keen to be a goodie two shoes.

“This is Detective Ashe we copy.”

“Captain wants you in the office ASAP.” It answers.

“Copy” She turns to me. “What do you think it’s about?”

“I don’t know but I’m probably in trouble again.”

The drive to the station is a good forty minutes from our location so there must be a good reason he’s calling us over. The kid asked questions along the way. I barely got time to think. But the last five minutes she went quiet. She seemed worried and I’ll be honest I had a bitter taste in my mouth. Something was wrong. Is it an omen like that guy said? If it is, what the hell could it be? The ascent up that piece of shit elevator never helps break the tension. The door is barely open before the receptionist Barb leads me to the captain's office. We get to his door and you can see through the glass that he’s looking by the window with a smoke in his hand. He quit two years ago. This must be bad.

“Detective Hanes, you can go in.”

Just me huh?

“Thanks Barb.”

I make sure to close the door slowly behind me. Last thing I want to do is piss him off right now.

“Hey Captain. You wanted to see me?”

He turns to see me and puts his smoke leaning up on the ashtray.

“Hey Scott. You should sit down.”

Scott? Fuck is this about my wife? Do they know? I can’t tell them the truth yet or they’ll lock me up in some loonie bin for the rest of my life.

He takes a deep breath and leans against his desk.

“Listen there’s really no other way to say this…”

He stops and looks me dead in the eyes.

“Shaw is dead.”