isabella [h.s.]

sixteen

** She trying to live a life so fancy
She wanna pull up in a Bentley**

HARRY

The precinct is absolutely boiling again, and after spending about ten minutes fiddling with the thermostat in my office, I come to the conclusion that the air conditioning is probably down again and hasn't been fixed yet due to the rampant budget cuts. I've opened my office windows as far as they go, which isn't far to begin with, but it hasn't helped much anyway because it's only filtering in more of the muggy air from the city outside. It's nearing the end of August now, and while the summer weather has been tumultuous to say the least (boiling hot one day and freezing cold the next, clearly a gift from global warming) I for one am ready to embrace the upcoming colder seasons with open arms.

I adjust my collar that's sticking to my slightly sweaty neck as I walk through the halls of the precinct towards the Chief's office, headed there for our scheduled monthly meeting. It's supposed to be so he can catch up on the cases I'm currently working on, although that usually only lasts for the first fifteen minutes and then he uses the rest of the meeting as an opportunity to gossip. I hope he doesn't do that today, because I'm not really in the gossiping mood. It's so fucking hot and stuffy in this precinct that the only thing I can think about is jumping into a freezing cold pool, or maybe just going to sit in one of those huge walk-in freezers. Either one.

However, I realise the heat-problem isn't so much of a problem when I walk into Russell's office, because he has a small AC unit of his own which is blowing cool air across his office. Russel himself is leant back in his chair, his eyes closed and his feet propped up against the desk, the image of relaxation and serenity. Arching an eyebrow, I interrupt the silence by asking, "Is this how the other half live then?"

Russell's eyes immediately snap open and he quickly pulls his feet off the desk, sitting up straighter in his chair and adjusting his tie as if he's trying to switch back into his professional role. "Oh, Harry, hi," he greets me as he clears his throat, nodding his head towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, take a seat."

Struggling to fight back my amused smile, I obey his command and go take a seat, pleased with the fact that my trousers don't stick to the leather like they did in my office. "I'm guessing the AC is down again?"

Russell nods, rifling through a few papers on his desk seemingly just for the sake of it. "Yes, they cant get anyone out to fix it until next week. You know how it is."

I nod in understanding, because I do in fact know how it is. These budget cuts don't just affect the air conditioning or the brand of the coffee machine in the kitchen, it also has knock-on effects on my work, and the work of other detectives here, especially in terms of the resources available to us. Needless to say, if the government sent a little more money our way, we'd probably all be able to solve a lot more cases.

Russell and I discuss this exact thing for a few minutes before we eventually move onto the main point of the meeting, which is to discuss my cases. I briefly outline the main ones I'm working on again, because obviously he's told a lot of information in a day and can't be expected to remember it all, and then I update him on how each one is going. Before that meeting with Clarissa Whitman, each of my cases were hanging on the edge of the cliff, almost slipping down into cold case territory, but the links between them and the possibility of a serial killer investigation has brought them back to life, so to speak.

As expected, Russell and I talk about my cases for about twenty minutes, and then he switches the conversation to a more casual one by asking, "How did you find the work event the other night? I have to say, I was surprised to see you there."