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."
I walk over to the window, study the sill, the locks, the frame and curtains. No sign of forced entry, so she must be correct that she left it open. Foolish, but shit happens. I cross back to the display of crystals I noticed earlier. They don't look like precious stones, just multi-faceted, cut glass, each a different color, with the largest crystals forming the points of the five-pointed star, and smaller ones filling in the connecting lines. "Was it worth much?" I ask, facing her.
"Monetarily? No. Sentimentally, yes. It's worth a great deal." Her eyes shine with unshed tears. Crap, it must have been some kind of family heirloom or something.
"Look, I'll do everything I can to get it back for you. It'll probably turn up in a pawn shop in the next few days. Let me just get a description of it so I can have the local stores on the lookout." Even as I say it, it doesn't really make sense. Why would someone come into an expensive home to steal one crystal, worthless to anyone but its owner? Still, I make a few notes on my pad and wait for her response.
"Oh, I can show you exactly what it looks like. The one at the bottom point of the star is its twin." She points one manicured, red fingernail at the display.
I reach for the one she indicates, then hesitate. "May I?" I ask. If they're all so important to her, I'd hate to touch it without her permission.
"Please . . . " she says, her voice breathier than before.
I keep one eye on her as I go to pick it up. Her chest rises and falls with her increased breathing, and I'd swear her nipples are hard beneath that thin, white peasant blouse. When my fingers close around the crystal, the same shade of red as her hair and nails, her sharp intake of breath almost startles me into dropping it.
Crossing quickly to her, the stone clutched in my palm, I drop to one knee on the rich, purple carpeting. "Are you all right?"
"I am now," Gen says, her gaze locking with mine. She reaches out, her delicate hand covering my own, the crystal digging grooves into my palm.
