The detective inspector was a simple man... (part 1)

i dunno

Well here’s something I wrote last night on a whim. I’m at a bit of a stand-still with my other WIP (and its sequels), so this was just a break from that. Enjoy and leave a comment if you’d like. I appreciate hearing from my readers— it reassures me that there are real people out there, and I’m not just speaking to a void.

Have a lovely day :)

The detective inspector was a simple man. It would suffice to say that he needed little and wanted even less. His office, tucked away in the back of an alley, shaded both in night and day, was a small thing. Just two chairs and a desk, surrounded by four walls of maps, photos, and old case notes. There was also, of course, the detective himself, though not seated at the desk. Instead, he knelt in the middle of the room, papers strewn every which way about him and pencil tap, tap, tapping on the floor, leaving little scratches on the wooden planks. Detective Inspector Dalton threw the pages he held and dropped the pencil which rolled down the slight slope of the floor, coming to rest in a pile of papers. Giving a despondent huff, he kicked a notebook away from his feet.

“This is useless,” he groaned, head in his hands. “Riley,” he cried. A small side door in the room opened to reveal a cupboard of sorts with enough space for a smaller desk, an oil lamp, and a chair. A slightly younger man sat within, red hair glinting slightly in the light of the flame.

“Oi what’s it now?” Riley asked, taking a swig from the pocket flask he carried at all times.

“This,” Dalton lamented, gesturing vaguely at the pages all around him, “This- this confounded, stupid–” Riley interrupted before his partner’s language could get any more colorful.

“Which case is it then, let’s ‘ave it ‘ere.” He held out a hand expectantly.

“Well that’s just the problem!” Dalton exclaimed, flinging writing utensils and books from his lap every which way. Riley raised his eyebrows the smallest bit, but let his partner finish, “There is no case! We’ve run right clean of- of, well, of anything! Murders, kidnappings, arson, even petty theft! What has this world come to?” He sighed, dramatically ending his rant.

“Dunno, maybe people’ve gotten haps smarter than they were last week and ‘ave decided not to hurt everyone else, ay, what do you think of that, then?”

“Why if that’s true, then blast it all! That’s bloody ridiculous.”

“Come on,” Riley said, pulling Dalton up by the forearm, “Let’s go get us a drink, what do you say?” The detective inspector gave one last look to the littered floor, before allowing himself to be dragged out of the office.