Episode 3

Joe looked over at Amy, who seemed just as bewildered by the officer’s presence as he felt. The officer’s face had been etched with lines of age, worry, stress, and laughter. His stern expression couldn’t have been much harder for Joe to read. However, hard wasn’t impossible. With a reassuring wave to Amy, Joe stepped out of the car. The officer outstretched his gruff hand. Joe instinctively shook it. As close to simultaneous as Joe could manage, he and the cop burst out laughing at the same time.

“Joe! How the hell are ya?” his gravel-filled voice matched his worn face, which twisted up into a friendly smile. Panicked, Joe hurriedly scanned the cop for something, anything, he could use to identify him.

“Detective Bone,” he sighed in relief, “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

The detective pursed his lips, “I heard you were out of sorts, so I originally didn’t want to bother you.” Joe studied the Detective’s face. Whatever the Detective wanted to talk about seemed gruesome in nature based on the change in his facial features. Joe motioned for Amy to go inside ahead of him. She squinted at him in an accusatory manner, but he held firm. Reluctant, she popped out of the car and headed up the stairs into their home. Joe could hear her softly cursing to herself as she trudged past them.

Once Amy was safely inside, the Detective folded his arms and glared at Joe. Joe could feel his red hot gaze boring a hole straight through his head. He managed to return his gaze without crumpling, but only barely.
“Something seems off about you, today,” he said, wary, “Are you feeling alright?”

Joe nodded, “I think I’m still tired from my time in the hospital. You know how it is, right?” A lump formed in Joe’s throat. From the Detective’s expression, he certainly wasn’t buying any of Joe’s excuses. Thankfully, a soft rapping came from the window. Joe held his breath as he counted the tapping. Amy signaled six letters to him in the same manner as her hand squeezes did earlier. The Detective reached for the radio on his belt.

“Maybe they let you out too early,” he said.

“George, wait,” he grabbed the Detective by his wrist. The Detective, upon hearing Joe say his name, softened. “I’m just exhausted. Honest.” George lowered his arm, satisfied. Joe internally breathed a sigh of relief.

“If you’re up for it, I have a case,” he changed the subject. Joe nodded for him to continue. “An elderly man died in his home. No signs of forced entry. No definitive cause of death. We have him on ice down at the morgue.” George seemed to deduce something from Joe’s face. “You’re excited.”

“Okay, you got me,” he confessed, “Listen, I’ve got Amy for the night. How about I come in and look at the cadaver tomorrow morning?”

George laughed, “Man, that bonk on the head must’ve knocked a screw loose. Normally you’d leave without a second thought.”

“Is that bad?” he blurted out. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled.

“Nah,” he chuckled, “It’s nice. Here.” George fished out a crumpled handful of bills and handed them to him. “Have a pizza night. On me. I’ll see you at the morgue tomorrow. Bright and early, okay?” They shook hands once more, and George disappeared back into his cruiser. He pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the street. Once he left Joe’s line of sight, he let out his held breath in a big rushing sigh. He took a few more breaths as he followed Amy’s path up the nearby stairs. As he reached for the knob, the door opened on its own accord. A blast of refrigerated air hit him, simultaneously tainted with cigarette smoke.

“Welcome home,” Amy said, waving him inside.

The inside of their shared living space reeked of old food and cigarette smoke. Dust particles drifted through the air across the window’s sunbeams. A fine layer of dust rested comfortably on almost every surface of the den. In stark contrast, however, stood the pristine spotless kitchen. Piles of old yellowed papers cluttered the coffee table, entertainment center, and the desk crammed in the corner. Joe sneezed several times in response to the filth.

“How can you live in a place like this?” he asked, fighting off a hundred more sneezes.

Amy tossed her pink backpack onto the brown leather couch, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Oh. Right,” he rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry.”

“I’m totally kidding,” she laughed, headed for the kitchen, “You’re too busy working cases to clean this sty every day. Mom says she left you because of it.”

“Sounds rough,” he lifted some of the yellowed papers on the coffee table in disgust, “I hope I didn’t break her heart too badly.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what she did to you,” Amy called out from the kitchen, “Hey, what do you want for dinner?” No meal preferences came to him. Sighing inwardly, he plopped down on the desk’s chair.

“What’s your favorite meal?” he asked.

Amy stopped in her tracks for a moment. She physically shook her head from side to side. A single deep breath later, she replied. “Let’s just have some pizza.” Amy dialed a number on her cell phone.

“Hey, how’s it going? yeah, it’s me. Listen, can I get two pies? One Hawaiian, and one with pepperoni, jalapenos, and bacon. What’s that? Cheese bread?” Joe held up the funds that he received from the Detective. Amy snatched it out of his hand and thumbed through the bills. “Yeah, throw in some cheese bread. Family order is fine. Cool? Okay, see you in twenty.” She ended the call.

Joe smiled slightly, “Hawaiian and jalapeno pepperoni?”

“Trust me,” she reassured him, “Look, we have twenty minutes until the pizza guy gets here. That means I have just enough time to turn you into a decent look alike version of Joseph Sinner.” Joe said nothing as she ripped open the desk’s drawer and handed him a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Let’s get started, shall we?”