The Stage is Set

The Police Station

Sure enough, the desk just outside the chief’s office was deserted. The horn in question, much larger than the chief’s portable one, hung on a frame of thin metal. It continued to hum, causing the desk and its eclectic assortment of items to shake slightly. A ceramic figurine of a dog with an oversized head trembled rather pitifully on the wood as Zosia passed.

The secretary’s desk wasn’t the only one that was unoccupied. As she walked down the middle of the large room serving as the upper office floor, Zosia spotted several desks that were empty—some housing folders, papers, or photos, while others sat barren, their surfaces collecting dust.

The scratch of quills was a quiet sound in the space, accompanied by the creak of wooden chairs and the brush of paper. A few curious heads looked up from their files or paperwork as Zosia passed. A couple of officers—likely those who had been present for her brief introduction speech yesterday or had been at the museum last night—offered her quick smiles or nods.

It wasn’t until she had taken the stairs down to the first level and pushed open the double doors that she faced a tidal wave of noise.

While the second floor was reserved for officers and staff, the ground floor of the police building was open to the public. The waiting room was full to the edges this afternoon, leaving civilians to sit in long lines on the benches pressed against the corridor walls. The benches looked like late summer vines heavy with fruit so ripe they were about to burst. People perched straight-backed or prowled their small space like beasts in a cage. Many of them clutched little slips in their hands, each depicting a number that dictated their turn at the window.

A mother trying to hold onto three small children had Zosia stepping quickly out of their way, and she narrowly avoided walking into an elderly man who refused to take a seat. She passed the help windows—one was closed, the other one blocked by a large woman in a feathered top hat. As the lady howled about her neighbors to whatever poor secretary sat on the other side of the window, Zosia didn’t know who was louder – the woman or the yapping dog she clutched to her bosom.

Zosia slipped outside with a sigh. The sun shone gently and the air was refreshingly crisp this afternoon. It felt warm with the lingering hint of summer but was edged with the promise of a cold night, tinged with the seasonal musk of autumn. The wind pushed against passerby as it chased fallen leaves along the road.

A giggle drew Zosia’s attention. Two women were standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the police building’s entrance. Zosia recognized the secretary Angela, who turned away quickly when Zosia caught her eye. The other, a blonde woman whom Zosia had seen working at the public assistance window yesterday, gave Angela a playful push.

Zosia walked down the stairs, feeling slightly self-conscious.

“Excuse me, Angela?” Zosia called. She paused a few steps above where the women were standing. The blonde woman, with a huge grin on her face, gave Angela another pointed shove.

“Stop it!” Angela hissed to her friend before looking at Zosia. Her brown cheeks were dusted with red. “Oh, ah, Detective Novak. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” She tucked a curl of her short, dark hair behind her ear.

“Same to you,” Zosia said. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all!” Angela said, a little too loud. She gave a sharp look at her friend. “Mindy was just finishing up her break.”

The smile melted off of Mindy’s face.

“Guess I can’t put it off any longer,” she groaned. “I’ll try to slip back out here for another break in two hours. See you then, Angela?”

Angela nodded, shooing her. Mindy laughed, stepping onto the bottom stair. She smiled at Zosia as she passed her, then disappeared inside the building.

“A shame we didn’t have a chance to talk much yesterday,” Angela said, turning to Zosia. “But I thought your introduction was lovely. And then there was that whole thing at the museum last night! I heard all about it. You’ve made quite the impression on your first day. It’s impressive, really.”

Zosia was a little taken aback. The mission had technically been a failure. So why was Angela looking at her like she had single-handedly saved the city?

“Not at all,” Zosia replied honestly. “I wish it went better, but we’ll try again tonight.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Angela smiled. “So,” she said, leaning to the side as she stretched her legs. She moved with all the stiffness of someone stuck behind a desk most of the day. “What can I do for you, Detective?”

“The chief sent me,” Zosia replied. “She’s looking for you.”

Angela groaned. “Oh, she’s ridiculous, that one. Can’t do anything when I’m not around! Can’t get the horn, can’t tidy all those cursed files. Someone ought to remind her that I’m a secretary, not her maid. Well,” Angela huffed, “She can wait for me to finish my break.” She patted down her skirt somewhat aggressively, the lively pattern of orange and yellow that matched the season flattening beneath her touch.

“Anyways, with that out of the way—I’d love to chat a bit, since we didn’t have the chance yesterday.” She looked up at Zosia, blinking her brown eyes. They were large and charming in a way that reminded Zosia of the ceramic dog on Angela’s desk. “How are things going?”

“Oh, the case?” Zosia glanced across the road, where the trees still clutched onto most of their golden leaves. “Well, as you probably heard, we made contact with The Star—the thief—last night. But she got away with another gem.”

“Mm hm, sorry about that,” Angela said quickly, “but I wasn’t talking about work. I was asking about you . You got thrown into real doozy here, but you’ve been doing your best. You’ve become a bit of an enigma in the office.” She reached up to tuck the same curl of hair that she had fondled before back into place. “Tell me, what do you like to do for fun?”

“For fun?” Zosia’s gaze flicked up to the sky, as if it had the answers. “Uh, I guess… I like to read?”

“Detective novels, I assume?” Angela said, resting one of her fingers against her cheek. Her nails were perfectly manicured, painted with small pumpkins. Zosia noted the rate of her eyelashes—they seemed to be doing double time flitting against her cheeks.

“Yes, I… guess so.”

Angela grinned. “Well, mystery and crime stuff aren’t my favorite genres—working at the station kind of sucks the fun out of it for me, you know, but I’d make an exception. Would you like to go to a bookstore later? With me?”

Zosia took a moment to plan her reply. Angela wasn’t unattractive—she had a pretty face and dressed herself with a sharp eye for her best attributes. Not to mention that her curls were rather lovely. She was also well-positioned in the office, no doubt with plenty of connections. It wouldn’t be disadvantageous to get closer to the chief’s secretary.

Still, Zosia hesitated. From the depths of her mind, there was a flash of sharp green eyes and the dangerous glint of a wicked smile hidden beneath a mask. It was the same vision that had played over and over, keeping her awake throughout the night.

Zosia shoved the intruding thoughts out of her mind— seriously, where did that come from? She could think about the case later; right now she needed to gently handle Angela.

“That’s very nice of you to offer,” Zosia replied, “but I’m afraid that being in the middle of such a high-profile case doesn’t leave me with much free time.”

“Oh, give yourself a little breather!” Angela said, the hint of a whine in her voice. “It’ll just be for a bit.”

“Perhaps another time,” Zosia declined politely.

“Come on,” Angela pleaded. “Something else on your schedule?”

Zosia hesitated, slowly becoming uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be harsh to the other woman, but she also needed to get the message across that she wasn’t interested.

“There are some leads I need to follow.”

“And there it is—so hard-working! I heard that detectives from Minthol’s Academy were serious business, but you take it to the next level.” Angela sighed, a pout evident on her lips. She leaned back on her heels, eyeing Zosia appreciatively. “Though, I suppose dedication is a desirable trait too.” The curl of hair had broken free again, but Angela ignored it. She glanced back up at the station woefully.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but Zosia thought she could hear the horn humming from the second floor.

“Ahhh fine,” Angela said. “Back we go. See you later, Detective Novak.”

Zosia tried to keep the relief off her face.

“Goodbye, Angela,” Zosia replied with a smile.