Silva

Chapter Thirteen

• Irisa •

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The busy café's ambiance hits differently when it's the evening. It's bustling with college students rather than office workers since the café is located between an Ivy League university and a perfect view to capture picturesque sunsets.

While the sun sets faster during winter, the café's placement can let people see the sunset longer.

I'm not a college student, but I fit into the young, trendy vibe effortlessly.

I sip the warm drink, savoring the sweetened flavor while watching people move along their busy schedules. It's fun to pinpoint things on them just by watching.

Couples' quarrel on the other side of the window is free entertainment.

I don't come here often. It's far from the condo, so I tend to stay here all day when I have a chance.

"Hello," someone greets.

Officer Norine stands with a cup of iced Americano and gestures vaguely over the empty chair.

"Is this seat taken?"

I shake my head, opening my palm to offer the seat. She sits and puts down the drink by the window for the light to enhance the tawny hues.

An uneasy silence wraps around us, and it fights with the lively café. Laughter and light conversations filter through the peace, alleviating the awkwardness while Officer Norine prepares herself.

Her lips purse, thinning into a white line as her knuckles turn ashen.

"I've been trying to reach you," she says. "I want to interview you on the death of your landlord."

I smile tightly. "You can call or find me at home."

Officer Norine takes out her notepad and a small recorder. "My partner and I went to your apartment the other day, but you weren't home."

I was right. It was Officer Norine and her partner who tried to climb over the neighbor's balcony. I give props to his dedication to talk to me.

"Sorry, I was running errands," I say as I bring the mug to my lips. "Must have missed you."

"Do you mind?" she says, motioning to the recorder.

I shake my head. The bright sunlight bleeds into her hair and highlights the glistening snow. Everything about her disrupts the calm atmosphere in the café, whether if it's her job or her hair.

"Not on the clock, officer?" I note from her plain clothing.

She chuckles and pushes the pen's spring. "Everyone should feel comfortable when being interviewed, and I could tell you were wary of me when we first met."

"I see," I mumble.

I swear she ran away from me like I was contaminating her oxygen. That was rather rude, but I chalked it up to my overactive imagination.

"Would you state your name for me?" she asks as the recorder begins with her pen hovering over the white notepad.

She jots down what I said along with some personal information for future contact. Officer Norine goes straight to the point, inquiring about the day when my landlord was hanging from the eighteenth floor.

Or is it considered seventeenth because his body was swinging on the floor below?

Eh, troublesome details.

"Can you tell me what you were doing on that day?" she probes. "Walk me through it."

She's doing the steps that are for detectives, but I applauded the groundwork and passion for justice.