10-28-2020, 04:57 PM
[Later that day]
Detective John Dempsey sat at his desk pushing papers and being the responsible detective.
He glanced the clock high on the wall behind him and knew things were off-course. She was never
late. Much less a no-show. This concerned him. He stood from his desk and walked towards the
door. He needed to check this out.
The old rust-bucket puttered up to the curb and died before a key could give it rest.
He parked in the back alleyway so as to avoid any witnessing eyes. This had to be
under wraps. For his own peace of mind.
He exited the vehicle and quickly made his way to the fire escape that traveled up the
building right to Delia's room. Extra care had to be taken as this was broad daylight and
he could not chance being caught.
Climbing like a trained monkey, Orville Shotsworth made great time in getting up to
the Detective's room. He had hoped the window was still available for entry. Placing his
elongated fingers onto the wide, paint-chipped pane he lifted upwards: Success!
In her room, he noticed that nothing had changed since he had been there last. This set
heavy on his heart. For he knew it was a sure sign that Delia could be dead now. And if she
were no longer of this world, Gail couldn't be far behind.
A loud knock on the door shook him back to his present thoughts: Getting in & out with
no one seeing him! He froze. A second knock came louder than the first. A man's voice
called out the Detective's name. "Delicato?" said the man on the other side of the door.
It was Detective Dempsey, Johnny as Delia referred to him.
A third knock, louder still. "Delicato, you in there?" he barked in obvious frustration.
Orville knew he had precious seconds to decide his next move. Could he slip out quietly
enough to avoid detection? Was there enough room under that bed for his lumbering
stature? His mind filled with possibilities; all of them negative.
Tick-tock, dear Orville.
Detective John Dempsey sat at his desk pushing papers and being the responsible detective.
He glanced the clock high on the wall behind him and knew things were off-course. She was never
late. Much less a no-show. This concerned him. He stood from his desk and walked towards the
door. He needed to check this out.
The old rust-bucket puttered up to the curb and died before a key could give it rest.
He parked in the back alleyway so as to avoid any witnessing eyes. This had to be
under wraps. For his own peace of mind.
He exited the vehicle and quickly made his way to the fire escape that traveled up the
building right to Delia's room. Extra care had to be taken as this was broad daylight and
he could not chance being caught.
Climbing like a trained monkey, Orville Shotsworth made great time in getting up to
the Detective's room. He had hoped the window was still available for entry. Placing his
elongated fingers onto the wide, paint-chipped pane he lifted upwards: Success!
In her room, he noticed that nothing had changed since he had been there last. This set
heavy on his heart. For he knew it was a sure sign that Delia could be dead now. And if she
were no longer of this world, Gail couldn't be far behind.
A loud knock on the door shook him back to his present thoughts: Getting in & out with
no one seeing him! He froze. A second knock came louder than the first. A man's voice
called out the Detective's name. "Delicato?" said the man on the other side of the door.
It was Detective Dempsey, Johnny as Delia referred to him.
A third knock, louder still. "Delicato, you in there?" he barked in obvious frustration.
Orville knew he had precious seconds to decide his next move. Could he slip out quietly
enough to avoid detection? Was there enough room under that bed for his lumbering
stature? His mind filled with possibilities; all of them negative.
Tick-tock, dear Orville.
