Down in Flames

Wednesday afternoon,
police headquarters

Officer Williams returned to the common squad room and discovered it was completely empty. Only the rumpled, worn, and carelessly torn carpet remained. A memo was taped to one of the walls announcing that the office was operational in the new building.

She checked Detective Parker’s office. There was another note taped to the wall of the empty office.

To Whom It May Concern:

My old office is as you see it, and my new office will not be ready until Friday. I appear to have been lost in the move to the extent that I’m unknown to the St. Petersburg Police Department. Getting my identity back, either physically or digitally, from the damaged data servers will probably take a few days. The friendly folks at Ferg’s Sports Bar have given me the use of a booth, and I will be working from there until sanity has returned.

Detective Parker

Officer Williams twisted her lips to one side and bit at the corner. She had a decision to make. Should she find him at Ferg’s Sports Bar and risk his well-deserved wrath at the injustice of his situation? Or should she could make her way into the new building and call him on her cell phone to make her report?

What would he do?

Decision made, she went out and crossed the street. Ferg’s Sports Bar was owned by Mark Ferguson, a native of St. Petersburg, graduate of Florida State University, and former teacher in the Pinellas County school system.

In 1992, he had an idea to open a sports bar in a run-down area of downtown St. Pete, known as the Gas Plant District. With the help of family and friends, Mark purchased the Sunoco gas station that became the first Ferg’s building.

He built the sports bar with reclaimed wood from torn-down houses and repurposed materials from All Children’s Hospital and the Derby Lane Greyhound Track. It was now the most unique restaurant, bar, and event venue on the west coast of Florida. Mark was a mainstay of his creation, and Joy had met him several times. It was completely in character for him to offer Detective Parker a temporary work space.

Officer Williams wandered through the rooms until she was at the back, farthest from the street noise. She found Detective Parker at a booth with a notepad, several manila folders, a white mug of coffee, his cell phone, and two pencils precisely arranged on the surface of the wooden table. His posture was ramrod straight, and he was staring at this cell phone like it was a live rattlesnake.

Only his eyes moved to glare at Officer Williams. “Welcome to my office.”

“What on earth is going on?” She scooted onto the bench across from him.

“There’s been a mistake with the layout of the new offices. A big mistake. I don’t have a new office.”

“What? How did that happen?” She swallowed quickly. “I saw the final layout last week. Your office was clearly marked. It was one of the larger spaces. It had a window.”

“Apparently the powers that be can’t count. They were short by one office.”

“Who’s going to get yours?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t really care.” He glanced back at his cell phone. “I had a pointed chat with the head of facilities. He’s going to do a shuffle of some sort and call back when they get it straightened out.” He performed an exaggerated eyeroll. “I merely need to be patient.”

To keep from grinning, Joy pressed her lips together so tightly she could feel them tingle.

Detective Parker broke into a big smile. “Yes, I know I’m acting like a petulant nine-year-old, but a work space is important to me. I feel adrift without an office.” He waved a hand to one of the servers passing by. “Coffee with cream for this officer, please.”

The pent-up giggle exploded into a full belly laugh, and Joy couldn’t speak for a few seconds. “I’m really sorry. I hope it gets fixed soon.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, then planted her work face on. “However, I’m grateful for the opportunity to take the lead in this hit-and-run.” She opened her notepad. “I’ve started our investigation with Nicole’s family. There apparently was a split when she announced her marriage to Elizabeth. She has both parents and three brothers for immediate family, and an uncle as well. They all live nearby.”

“How did they split over her engagement?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to contact anyone yet. Everyone is out. I’ll get more information from Edward Morris and Savannah. If I know Savannah, she’ll have ferreted out all of Nicole’s personal details.”

“What has Savannah uncovered so far?”

Referring to her notes, Officer Williams reported, “I’m meeting her for coffee in a few minutes to get an update and the contents of Nicole’s work locker.”

“That should have been done by Forensics.”

“Unfortunately, it was missed at the time of the hit-and-run, and apparently Nicole’s wife, Elizabeth, was ready to take off with the contents. If Savannah hadn’t been there, we wouldn’t have anything to analyze at all.”

Detective Parker folded his arms. “Fair point. Go on.”

“Nicole seemed to be more than just an acquaintance with the graffiti artist SNARK. It appears that Nicole was beginning to paint graffiti herself in the late hours, after she closed up Queen’s Head Pub. Savannah has also made an appointment with the SHINE Mural Festival organizer. The main office is near her glass shop, so I think I’ll go with her.”

Detective Parker furrowed his brow. “The graffiti interest seems completely out of character. I met Nicole a few times over this last year. I would never have guessed that she was interested in deliberately defacing property with self-aggrandizing variations of a secret name. I simply don’t get it.”

“Frankly, me neither. But it goes to prove we really don’t know what secrets our friends are carrying around, do we?”

“Well said.” Detective Parker’s cell phone rang and vibrated on the surface of the scarred wooden table. He answered the call. “Detective Parker.” He sat listening and then a smile slowly spread across his face. “That’s very good. I’ll be right over.”

Officer Williams raised her eyebrows as a question.

“They’ve sorted out an office for me at last.” Detective Parker began gathering up his possessions. “Stop by after your meeting with Savannah. Let’s just hope those failed servers have been restored and we can get back to normal.”

“Normal, sir? We don’t have normal—we investigate murders.”