ALEX WENT FOR HIS third cup of coffee of the morning. No matter how much he read those papers, none of it made any sense. Jack came along. He was a recently graduated agent, and Alex had made him sort of his pupil, for he recognized the relentlessness in the eyes of the young man, which very much reminded himself of a few years ago, for he was just a few years older than Jack.
"So, what you've got? Judging by the amount of coffee you're drinking, I'd say not much."
Alex smiled. He had ordered Jack to make a copy of the file and read him by himself. He didn't like to be interrupted while reading.
"You got me," said Alex, shaking his head. "Nothing at all."
"Clean, right?"
"The cleanest thing I've ever seen. No one saw, no one watched a thing."
Jack sighed.
"But why the director is so determined to solve this case?" Jack asked shrugging, in a frustrated attitude.
"Well, technically, the case was never closed, so this should be running until we find the murderer. And regarding his interest, well, I've heard he's planning on being a candidate for the next elections, and you know how much loved Jeffrey Russell was in this town. So finding his killer will most certainly help him in the pots."
Jack nodded. That explained the Director's sudden interest in this case.
"Very clever of his," he finally said.
"Indeed. But a pain in the ass to us. The elections are within six months, so we're working against the clock."
A phone began ringing in another cubicle.
"Six months to solve what legendary Hudson couldn't solve in two years?"
The phone kept ringing. There was noise in the office and everyone was chatting and no one seemed to care who they were calling for.
"Hudson did his best for sure, but I don't know. Something's off about this case. Maybe Hudson was too methodical, too orthodox, and because of it he couldn't get the answers he wanted."
The phone rang again. Alex took his glance off Jack's eyes and looked around as if he was expecting to see someone running towards the phone to answer it.
“And do you feel confident about solving this case, boss?”
Alex exploded.
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“Can someone pick that damned phone up?!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. The office went completely silent. It should. Besides Director Rogers, Alex was the boss in there. A young passant rushed to the phone and picked it up. Alex looked angry, as the passant threw a gaze at him, mustering words on the phone.
“Let’s go outside. I need a smoke,” said Alex, taking his coat and leaving the office in a fast stride. Jack went behind him.
Outside the Metropolitan Police’s building, the noise wasn’t any better, but at least it all sounded more distant: a big avenue separated the building from the crowd. Alex took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.
“I’ve never failed before,” he said, more relaxed now. “And I know how hard I work and how persistent I am. But this is a tough one, at the very least.”
“I agree,” Jack said. “Have you watched the news lately?”
Alex moved slightly to his right, to put himself under a dim sunray, as he loved to do in the mornings. He closed his eyes for a second.
“No, I haven’t. Why?”
Russell’s widow. She’s seemingly not happy about the Director reopening the case.
“It’s not being reopened. It was never closed.”
“Right, we know that. But she doesn’t, or she does and acts as if she doesn’t. The thing is, she was asked by a reporter what her thoughts were about Director Roger’s intention of clarifying his husband’s murder, and she said they should respect his memory. She declared she wasn’t ready to be interrogated again and reviving all those horrific memories.”
“Sounds like an excuse.”
“Exactly,” Jack nodded.
“Well, we have something to start from, now. You have her address?”
“Yeah. She moved to a smaller apartment in Las Mercedes. She sold the big house she used to live in with Russell. She said it brought her too many sad memories.”
“So she had already some pocket change from that transaction. Interesting. Let’s get to work. Drive me there.”
***
Alex had the file in his hands, watching old pictures of Russell, when they arrived to Miss Linda Russell. It was a private neighborhood, so they had to use the credentials at the entrance to get in.
The receptionist was a thing, a pale-skinned guy in glasses, who looked horrified at the Police identification of the guest, so as fast as lighting he gave her the number of Miss Russell’s apartment.
“Apartment 6-9. Do you believe in coincidences?” Alex said. Jack chuckled.
They split.
Alex took the elevator, Jack the stairs. When it was about an interrogation, Alex never let anything to luck. Never had a suspect escaped before a surprise visit, or an interrogation. He was there in a few seconds. He thought about waiting for Jack to come, but then decided against it and rang the bell. He rang it twice. No one came. He rang it again and he heard some noises. Someone was murmuring. He heard another door slamming close, and finally, the door was opened.
“Miss Russell?” Alex said. She was a hot, voluptuous blonde. She was wearing a red, silk wardrobe. She was exactly how one would imagine a trophy wife
“Yes. Who are you?”
“Detective Miller, from the Metropolitan Police. I need to ask you a few questions.
Her face showed disgust.
“Oh no. This is about my husband. You all should leave that thing alone.”
“Please. It is very important, Misses. We need to clarify some things. I bet you want to know the truth too.”
“What if I refuse?” she said, after thinking for a moment. Her hand was on her hip in a challenging attitude.
“In that case, I’ll find a warrant, and I’ll make you the questions in a cold room with hard chairs and for forty-eight hours straight. My guess is your sofa is more comfortable. She rolled her eyes.
“All right, come in.” She was covering her breasts as the sound of Jack’s steps disturbed her.
“Don’t worry, he’s my partner,” Alex said.
Jack hurried up in a jog.
“A hot blonde, isn’t she? This might get fun.” Jack murmured to Alex as they got in.