This is my first submission to the site. I hope you enjoy it.
Back-to-back shifts suck ass.
I tromp up the front walk of one of the more expensive homes on the wealthier side of town, answering a burglary call that came in exactly twenty minutes before I would have gotten off work and gone home to sleep. Of course.
The place is a little unusual--no lights out front, dark curtains in the windows, plenty of shadows for a thief to hide in. It's like the owner is asking for a robbery. When I ring the bell, the rich, resonant chimes remind me of funereal music.
The door creaks open on rusty hinges, and I'm surprised by a woman in a long, black skirt and a white, off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. Long, fire-engine red hair curls in soft waves over the exposed tops of her breasts; her green eyes catch the flickering lights of a dozen or so candles set in holders along the entry hall.
"Come in, Officer . . .?"
"Del. It's Ashlyn Del. But everyone calls me Ash." Why the hell did I tell her that? Yeah, everyone does call me Ash, but by everyone, I mean my friends. I don't even know this woman. I must be a lot more tired than I thought.
"Ash, then," she purrs in a rich, sultry voice. "I'm Gen." Turning, she leads the way down the short hall, through a door on the right and into what could only be described as a parlor, complete with curvy, antique couches and chairs, velvet coverings, and that old-fashioned wallpaper with the patterns that actually stick out so they can be touched, stroked. My eyes are drawn to a collection of crystals on a side table, reflecting the light of more candles scattered about the room. It's a star configuration of multi-colored gem-like stones, but one seems to be missing from the topmost point. When Gen faces me, she must catch some expression on my face because she says, "I'm a romantic at heart. This room is the reason I bought the place. I remodeled almost everything else, but I kept this room as it is."
"It's, um, very feminine."
"And not your taste at all," she says, smiling.
"Actually," I say, letting my eyes linger on her bare shoulders, the trim waist, the curve of her hips, "I like some feminine things . . . "
"That's good to know," she says, seating herself on the lavender velvet couch and crossing one leg over the other. "Now, about the robbery . . . "
I shake my head, clearing away the sudden fogginess in my brain. "Right." Reaching into my uniform pocket, I pull out my notepad and a pen.
She laughs, the sound like the tinkling of crystals hanging from a chandelier and caught in a soft breeze. "Not very high tech, are you?"
I shrug. "I like to keep things simple. So, can you tell me what happened, and what was stolen?"
Gen nods, her hair falling across her forehead, a strand dropping into her eyes. I have the strongest urge to tuck the wayward curl behind her ear, and I just manage to keep my hand to myself.
"I came home from a meeting of the--. From a meeting. I suppose I forgot to lock the parlor window. It was open when I arrived." She points at it, still open, the black curtain billowing in the wind of an approaching storm. "At first I didn't notice anything amiss, but then I saw the empty space on the table. One of my crystals was gone."
