The Sixth Of June (ON HOLD)

2

°Listen to the song, I think it suits the chapter°

BACK AT THE PRECINCT, Dylan was busy scrolling through some files from the computer when a knock on her door distracted her. She glared at the person who entered.

"You better have something good for me Brian if you're gonna disrupt my work."

"Well, I can't promise it's gonna make you orgasm but I'll say it anyway."

"Yes, please get to the point or I'm going to have to shoot something."

Brian gulps.

"Okay, ma'am. You know how the agency suspects these crimes are linked?"

"Go on." It had certainly piqued Dylan's interest now.

"Well, they're not. I've checked every thing. Not one hint of a connection except for these two,"

"Diane Sandoval and Kate Marshall." He dropped the pictures of both women who seemed to be in their early fifties.

"They attended a seminar together and after that, nothing. For all we know, they didn't have any sort of conversation with each other at the seminar. They don't even have any mutual friends. It's like a dead end."

"Look at the detail. Next to every dead body is a Dahlia." Dylan noted.

"You think he's tryna tell us something?"

"DNA samples from the syringe?" Dylan asked.

"Nada. Our guy might be messy but he's not stupid."

"Another dead end," Dylan cursed.

"Hold up, Brian. Why don't we try checking out all the florists within a 100 mile radius. If he's had a vendetta to carry out and he's leaving a trail of dahlias, he's gonna need a lot of it, right?"

"With all that detail, I'm certain it's another high functioning psychopath on the loose." Dylan deduced.

Another knock on the door made Dylan  really pissed.

A man, bald with broad shoulders, who looked like he was in his mid-forties and had a tag that said 'Lt. Davidson' stepped in.

He didn't talk much, Peter. And how ironic it was that he was named Peter Davidson when he was the complete opposite of the guy. Most people called him Pete. It annoyed him but it had become a normal thing to say now.

"The Chief inspector has asked to see you." He closed the door and left after delivering the message before Dylan could mutter a 'thank you'.

"I'll be back, kid."

~

Dylan was annoyed, angry. Wasn't it enough that he had ruined her life? Now he asked to see her; summoning her like some pathetic puppy.

When she turned the knob of the door to his office, she immediately wished she hadn't.

Ella was there, looking flustered. Her hair was a complete mess and her skirt had ridden higher. Parish sat, unperturbed and unshaken. Not a single lock of his gelled blonde hair had been out of place.

"Wonderful." Dylan said.

"Detective," Parish started.

"The agency's been complaining about your performance because you've been um -slacking off."

"I? Slacking off? I'm clearly not the one who's being unprofessional and having sex at work."

"You didn't have a problem with it when we did it, y'know, the whole 'unprofessional' thing."

"Excuse me? Just when I thought you had some manners left in you, you're talking about this in front of a kid."

"I'm 21." Ella piped up.

"Shut up, Ella!"
Both Parish and I stay.

"You've been given an indefinite break, to recover from all this —stress.

"If the agency has a problem with me, I don't see why they're sending you to lecture me. I'm the best this agency's got so far."

"Dylan—"

"Don't you dare say my fucking name.  You know it, I know it. Every goddamn person in this precinct knows it. I've been working my ass off every single day while you sit your no-good keister in that chair all day because you're the mother fucking Chief inspector."

"I should go." Ella said, the tension in the room getting suddenly unbearable for her.

"Yes." Parish agreed.

"No." I said at the same time. Apparently Parish didn't like getting scolded in front of people he considered lower than him.

"You're gonna sit your ass in that chair, try and look pretty for all I care and you're gonna open your fucking legs for him because he wants you to."

"Stop!" He warned.

"And then he's gonna leave. Fuck it, Parish." Dylan said, gathering herself to leave.

"And fuck you." She flipped him off and got out of the office and out of the precinct.

She might as well take them up on that break.

~
"Girl, I cannot believe that happened." April said from the kitchen. She was wearing a black tank top and white short shorts.

Her curly black hair was pulled up into a high bun that Dylan couldn't help but envy how effortless yet beautiful it looked and she had no makeup on.

"Same here." Sitting there in their simple but stylish apartment, courtesy of April, she couldn't help but get reminded of college.

April was the longest friend she'd ever had. They'd been friends since freshman year at Yale.

"Here you go." April handed her a plate of pasta and proceeded to eat her own.

"I'm not even hungry." Dylan said blankly.

Dylan didn't know she had been crying until April wiped away a tear.

"Sweetie, it's okay."

"Honey, you better eat. I tried so hard to cook that shit. Besides, you're losing a lil jiggle over here." She tapped Dylan's ass.

Dylan turned to look at her rear. "Really?"

"Mmhmm,"

Dylan didn't need to be told twice. She picked up her plate of food and started eating.

Halfway into her food, Dylan spoke.

"April,"

"Dyl."

"About that break, that Parish talked about"

"Yeah?"

"I feel like going for a drink."

April's smile nearly split her face in half.

"Honey, this is LA, we won't just be going for a drink."

"We won't?" Dylan was perplexed.

"We're going clubbing! And I was wondering where my favourite party Animal went."

"Well, we have my work to thank for that."

"Not tonight we don't, sister."

April made a beeline for her closet.

    

                      
                             °°°
Does the 'Black Dahlia Murder' or a certain George Hodel ring a bell to any of you?