ATLANTA GEORGIA
8th March 2022

VINCE

Vince’s eyes were on fire.

He’d been staring at his laptop since arriving at the station at 6:00 a.m. and drinking enough coffee to keep a young elephant awake for six years. It was an unhealthy amount of coffee, sure. But he took it black, with no sugar. That had to count for something. Right?

You are probably wondering why Vince has been at the station since six in the morning. No? Either way, the answer is here: Vince had woken up at 4:45 a.m., fifteen minutes before his morning alarm, disoriented and drenched in his own cum. He’d gone for a run, taken an ice-cold shower, and gone to the station to work rather than drown in his thoughts. Thoughts that were turning out to be very wild. And vivid. And not so innocent.

Of course, he’d dreamt about Daisy. His subconscious had conjured up a fantasy involving Daisy, a pair of handcuffs, thigh-high boots, red lingerie and a black trench coat. Never before had he felt anything remotely sexual for any woman other than Clara. Not after meeting Clara, and not after her death. He’d only known Daisy for a day and he was already having wild fantasies.

Vince took a sip of coffee and stared at his laptop. Still, no reply. He’d spent the greater part of the morning tracking down anyone who was connected to Rowan or Loise Atkins. After last night’s revelation about Daisy’s parents, he’d started tracking down people who had known Rowan or Loise: Highschool friends, neighbors, family members. Fortunately, he’d managed to find Rowan’s sister, Riley Atkins. He’d sent her an email explaining the situation. He was yet to hear back.

Waiting for a reply from Riley Atkins was the equivalent of watching paint dry with the added disadvantage of eye strain. He knew he should be more patient, considering it was still quite early in the morning. Still, Vince was getting impatient and frustrated all at once.  He was this close to throwing up his hands, slamming the laptop shut, and going back to pour himself another jug of coffee when the scent of berries filled the room.

“I come bearing gifts.” Daisy declared, putting two identical styrofoam cups on his desk.

Vince didn’t look away from his laptop. “If it’s not your world-class guacamole, I don’t want it.”

“It’s coffee. From Starbucks. Black, no sugar. Just the way you like it. I thought you might need a little break from the coffee here.”

Taking a sip of the coffee, Vince moaned. “Wow, girl. You are an angel sent from heaven.” Then he made the mistake of looking at Daisy and his mouth dried up. She was wearing the black trenchcoat from his dreams. Not over a set of red lingerie, though. The trenchcoat was over a form-fitting black shirt and skinny jeans. The brown boots she wore accentuated the outfit. She was not just hot. She was hawt.

“Something’s different. Did you cut your hair?”

Daisy patted her shoulder-length curly bob self-consciously. “Yes, I did. You like it?”

Like it? Vince loved it. Daisy was one of those women who had the cheekbone structure to pull off a short hairstyle. It suited her. “Meh. It’s okay.”

“No coffee for you.” Daisy grabbed his cup of coffee and almost chucked it in a nearby bin.

“I’m sorry. I was joking. It’s nice. I love it. I will say anything. Please, don’t pour the coffee.”

Daisy gave him back his coffee, then began staring at him so intensely, he was forced to turn his attention from his laptop and ask, “What?”

“Do you really not like my haircut?”

Vince had to laugh. “Who knew the Daisy that I met yesterday, the one that nearly scratched my eyes out for trying to help her was so insecure?”

“Shut up.” Daisy paused, perhaps thinking how much she should reveal. “I just. . .I cut my hair on a whim. I wanted to know what you thought about it.”

That made sense. “It’s chic. Whatever that means.” Daisy narrowed her eyes suspiciously and Vince added. “I’m serious. I just don’t want to compliment you too much because your face will become as red as a stop sign.”

Daisy smacked his arm. “I hate you so much. Did you know that?”

Vince grinned. “No, you don’t.”

“So, what are we up to?” Daisy asked as she pushed her chair closer to his.

Vince liked the sound of the ‘we’ in Daisy’s statement. Focus, Vince!

Clearing his throat, Vince said.  “What you told me about your parents last night got me thinking. If they grew up in Atlanta, then they surely should have someone who knew them, someone close. Perhaps some family relations or something like that. I got to searching and I found your dad’s sister. Your aunt. I’ve sent her an email and I’m hoping she gets back to me so that we can go quiz her.”

“I have an aunt?” It was hard to disguise the hope in Daisy’s voice. Her steely grey eyes were literally glowing. Given that Daisy had no family left, her elation at discovering a new family relation was comprehensible.

“Yep,” Vince said and took another sip of coffee. “I’ve not heard much success on your mother’s side, though.”

Dr. Rebecca Griffin’s arrival was punctuated by the click, click, click of her heels on the worn linoleum floor and the flurry of activity in the bullpen (The flurry of activity was just people running away from her. She was that insufferable). She walked right to Vince’s desk, her eyes glued to her phone. Vince wished that she would trip. “Vince. Daisy. My office. Now.”

Daisy’s look of vexation mirrored that of Vince. They both hated their boss. She had most likely called them into her office to complain. That was all she ever did. Nothing anyone ever did was enough for her. Vince chugged the rest of his coffee, chucked the cup in the bin, and followed Daisy to Rebecca’s office.

Unlike yesterday when Rebecca’s office was as pristine as a surgical ward, today, Rebecca’s office was a jungle. Vince half-expected to see a monkey swinging from a vine. Papers were flooding her desk, the beige throw pillows were scattered on the carpeted floor, one of the chairs had toppled over, and her bookshelf no longer held any books. The floor was a mishmash of crumpled papers and chocolate wrappers. It was as if someone had taken a wrecking ball and shown Rebecca’s office what was up.

Vince suspected that the disorganized office was an after-effect of one of his boss’s nervous breakdowns. He’d never believed that Rebecca Griffin was fully sane. This office was proof of that.

Rebecca was typing away on her phone furiously, her eyebrows bunched in a frown, her lips pursed. She yelled at her receptionist to go and fetch the cleaning lady pronto and sat down. Vince had hardly taken a seat when the complaining began.

“Tell me why I have just received a call from the organizers of the Atlanta Film Festival telling me that the detectives I hired to provide security have not yet arrived to scope out the venue.”

“The Atlanta Film Festival is not until tomorrow. We had planned to go scope out the venue today.” Vince spoke up.

Rebecca gave a sigh that was the equivalent of a small tornado. “It seems to me that you do a whole lot of planning and very little working. What were you doing the whole of yesterday?”

“Actually, we were making headway on the Samantha—” Daisy tried to say, but Rebecca stopped her with a hand.

“The Samantha Carmichael case is not your primary case.” Rebecca huffed. “I do not have time for this. Make sure you have scoped out the venue ASAP. That is when you get to speak to me.”

Having a conversation with Rebecca reminded Vince of the conversations he had with his mother when he was about to be punished for an offense he did not commit. His mother would pepper him with questions and when he would try to answer them, she would not let him defend himself and he would still get punished.

Looking up from her phone, Rebecca gave another one of her tornado-like sighs. “What are you still doing here? Go and do something useful for once. Shoo.”

Shoo? That was it? Without listening to them, Rebecca was dismissing them like pigeons on the street? Vince was hit with the sudden urge to pummel Rebecca. He was happy that this was the last case he was working under Rebecca. Otherwise, if this continued, someone was going to find Rebecca bludgeoned to death with the gold stapler on her desk. He took one look at Daisy, who was seething silently in her seat, and knew that she was thinking along the same lines.

Maybe they could kill her together and go on the run. They could become the new Bonnie and Clyde.

As Vince closed the door to Rebecca’s office, Rebecca mumbled something along the lines of “lazy bums” and Vince had to physically restrain Daisy from going back into the office and giving Rebecca a piece of her mind.

“Is she always such an eager beaver?”

Vince smiled. “I hate to tell you this, but this is her on her better days.  This one time, she called all of us ninnyhammers.”

Daisy snorted. “What the heck does that even mean?”

“It’s a more insulting way of calling someone a fool.”

“God, I detest that woman.” Daisy commented as they walked back to Vince’s desk.

“So does everyone within a five-mile radius.”

At his desk, Vince started his laptop and saw that he’d received a new email. His heart leaped. It was from Riley Atkins. The Atlanta Film Festival organizers would just have to wait. He opened the email.

Daisy tapped him on the shoulder. “What? You are grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.”

Vince bounced on his toes. “Riley Atkins finally replied to my email. Get ready, Daisy. We are going to see your aunt.”

★★★

We are about to get some answers. Stay Tuned.

Want to see how our little nerdy Riley turned out in 2022?