Chapter 3: A Constable's Job (1)

It had as per Eckhard's ETA taken Jerome somewhere around the twenty minute mark for Jerome to arrive at his home, something akin to a loft set on the third storey of a building that didn't have the nicest of paint jobs.

"What does this man do with his salary?" Jerome wondered out loud.

He looked in through the opened door to his house and the place was a mess. Clothes everywhere, bed sheets on the floor, books lying here and there, some open, some closed, and a tangle of wires next to the right side of his bed.

On the far left side of the room behind his desk was what he could only describe as a crime board with detailed pinning and pictures. He walked up to the table to find an assortment of papers laid out in front of him. The desk held, three drawers and he opened one, it held a laptop. He closed it and opened the second and it held stationery; pens, pencils, erasers, highlighters etc. He closed that as well and opened the third one only to find a second gun as well as what he could only assume to be his badge, there were also a set of cuffs in the drawer. As he looked around the room, he realized that this man had no veritable kitchen to speak off. There was an electric stove set up on a table a fair few feet away but apart from that nothing else.

"Does this room even have safety regulations," he said sighing as he looked up.

At least there was a smoke alarm, he didn't know whether it worked or not, but there was one there. There was toilet there as well, hidden behind curtains. This was what he would call an essential, modest living. It led him to question whether this man was human at all and then the irony of that question came upon him and he chuckled. Out in the distance he heard sirens and he smiled. It seemed they had finally found it burning. He had maybe, several minutes prior paid a visit to East City Hospital, specifically their mortuary. He wasn't particularly in the thinking mood, all he knew was that he needed to see his mother one last time and he did, her cold dead corpse. It was daunting, or at least it would be if Eckhard didn't keep suppressing his emotions, even then he had felt the coldness in the pits of his stomach as he looked at her. Her gaunt and lifeless face, those dead and closed eyes, they used to look at him with so much love. He hadn't even known what he was doing but he used some chemicals and a lighter he had found on him and set the mortuary on fire, perhaps it was tribute to his mother, or maybe it was just pointless destruction, either way he had done it and he hadn't regretted a moment of it. The blazing fire had filled him body and mind, his hate alleviated for perhaps moments as he watched it all burn into glory. He wished that he perhaps had a photograph of her, he did but they were all in his old house, not something he would even presume to visit without sufficient precautions. Her corpse still kept flashing past him, every time he saw that face in his mind he would unconsciously flinch. He cared not a whit for the collateral damage he did in the fire, no such thing flashed past his mind. He mused to himself at how much he had changed, a normal journalist, pursuing justice, he had grown disillusioned in prison and finally emotionless at the beginnings of his second life. He smiled to himself as he took off his shirt and then whistled to himself. The body of Jerome Elliot Hall had been well maintained. Well it was for good reason of course, the man worked in law enforcement, he needed to in fighting fit condition at all times but this looked to be even beyond that standard which made him question how he died, being stabbed repeatedly. The man should have put up a decent fight but the job seemed too clean to him, only this body and the body of the informant was there. He would understand if it was a gun but this body was stabbed repeatedly. As he mulled these thoughts over he climbed bed, just laying on top of the blankets.

"Do I have work tomorrow?" he asked.

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"Well…set an alarm for nine then?" said Jerome with a lazy smile.

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Jerome fell into a light sleep dreaming about blazing infernos and destruction, his mind giving form to nightmares now which he found to be more in line than normal dreams.

***

The next morning at nine Jerome Hall was jolted to life by Eckhard as he flooded adrenaline through the body. Jerome stood up and stretched with a smile.

"First day on the job," he said.

He showered and brushed his teeth and prepared himself, forgoing breakfast, something he would get from outside, somewhere. Putting on his uniform, he holstered his gun and attached his badge and other apparel needed, finally placing the cuffs into his pockets. He wanted to see who would be surprised by his apparent return today. Someone had killed Jerome Hall and he wanted to see who was involved. He walked over to the crime board, something he hadn't paid much attention to and a photo at the back caught his attention. A picture of the child, Eckhard Ingrid Naumann. His eyes narrowed, he hadn't seen this yesterday, well he hadn't paid much attention yesterday. He reached out and plucked off the picture.

"Curious, was he investigating my case Eckhard?" asked Jerome.

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Jerome sighed, "Well it would be off the books, wouldn't it."

Jerome frowned, could that be the reason why this man was killed, then if so had this man found anything that could prove his innocence? He placed the photo on the desk and turned. A shame he didn't inherit the old Jerome's memories, those appeared to somewhat of a treasure trove if he was investigating this case. He filed out of the room bumping into someone carrying groceries.

"So…sorry," the woman murmured after she had dropped her bags.

"Look where you're going woman!" said a man angrily as he came up behind her.

"Sorry," the woman said again, she had her head down and in all mannerisms she looked like a docile woman, wearing a hijab.

Jerome proceeded to look at the man who reeked of immature masculinity and high pride. He had seen this dynamic before. The man froze as he gazed over him. They were an Muslim family, did they always live here? Well he had only been here for one night, there would be time to get acclimatized to this location and its people. The black haired man with a groomed beard looked like a gentleman in all accounts and accords but the situation was different from what he was seeing.

"You're a cop?" he asked, a slight worry tinged in his voice.

Jerome proceeded to smile casually, "That I am."

The woman looked up at him, there was a moment of hope on her face which quickly dimmed.

"Are there any problems you wish to tell me?" he asked, it was a general question but he was looking at the woman as he spoke, but she never made eye contact, disappointing…very disappointing.

The man said 'no' in a meek manner while the woman shook her head slightly. A boy came up following behind the man, his hands held a phone and it appeared he had been crying moments before from the tears apparent on his face. He once again looked over this family before smiling gently at the boy and glancing pitiably at the woman on the floor. He knelt down and gathered up her groceries.

"Yo…you don't have to," she said quickly as she too attempted to help.

"She's right, she can do this herself," said the man from above her and a slightly ticked off expression appeared on Jerome's face but he held his cool.

"It's fine, I'm a public servant after all," he said with a light forced chortle.

He gathered up her groceries in her bag and handed it back to her and then proceeded past the man glancing at the child who looked at him curiously.

"Hello there," he said…this was an exhilarating feeling, he held power over this family now, the man was afraid, the woman too, being in a position like this, maybe if he were a police prior to this, he wouldn't have been framed.

That was a thought he quickly discarded as he imagined the powers at play. No matter, he would still have been crucified, for it to not have affected him, he would have needed much more power.

"Hi," said the boy in quiet voice.

He looked at the boy's father as his eyes flashed a dangerous glint as he saw the man about to come forward between them. The man gulped as he was eyed down by a cop he patted the boy on the head.

"My name is Jerome," he said to the boy. "What's yours?"

"Haitham," said the boy, his quiet voice strikingly resolute as he said the name, was there something he had missed.

"Nice name?" he asked more in a question, he wasn't familiar with Arabic.

The boy nodded and Jerome gave a smile, "Well enjoy your day Haitham."

The boy nodded again. Jerome then proceeded to look at the father who averted his gaze. He then walked down the stairs. He couldn't do anything if they didn't say anything. He wasn't omnipotent, he wasn't god. Well he could always try and poke his nose into their business but he had plenty of problems himself already, without needing to be proactive in picking up other people's problems. As he stepped out of the building, there came another question. How on earth was he to get to his place of work? He had no vehicle, not even a cycle.

"Eckhard, how close are we to the Trade City East Police Station?"

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"A quick walk then," he surmised, extremely quick for him.

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He sighed and took to the footpath, ignoring the looks. He resolved to get himself at the bare minimum a bicycle by the end of this day. Walking to work, not something he minded, but walking to work armed and prepared, he was receiving way too many looks. He nodded at a couple of passerby as a form of greeting but they all appeared to be too straight faced to greet back. He walked along the footpath on the path plotted for him by Eckhard when suddenly he heard a scream from across the road.

"Thief!"

He whirled around looking across and sure enough there was a man who had jumped out a car and was snatching at a woman's purse.

"Seriously," he said to himself.

Sighing he stepped onto the road. He was a police officer, he had responsibilities and this crime was happening right in front of him. What on earth were they even doing, did they not notice that he was right here, in uniform and armed. Stopping the cars that came across he walked across the road, a few of them horned at him, before they noticed his uniform and quieted down.

"Excuse me," he said as he walked up.

"What?" a man who was watching the proceedings with a camera out said annoyed.

His eye twitched as he looked at the man, he looked to be in good shape. What on earth was he doing filming this, instead of helping the struggling woman. He pushed the man out of the roughly as the man tumbled about into the crowd. He had no patience for a**holes. A few more parted away as they noticed him arrive.

"Sir," he called out, trying to think back on all the TV shows and movies that featured cops he watched, never be quick to violence, that appeared to be a police catchphrase.

The man that was tugging at the purse turned and turned white as soon as he saw him.

The woman saw him and it appeared life had come back to her face as she screamed, "Officer…officer please help!"

He began ferociously tugging at the woman's purse.

"Seriously," he said as he sighed. "Sir, I need you to let go of the poor woman's purse and calm yourself."

The man looked at him again as he redoubled his efforts.

"What the hell's in that purse," he asked losing his soothing tone as he approached them. "It isn't your life or anything is it."

The man roared as he swung a fist out, one which Jerome easily caught much to his own surprise but then he realized he was at this point basically a superhuman. He pressed down on the arm he grabbed making the man wince and twisted that arm back behind the man. He watched as the man sitting in the car pull out a switchblade and step out the car.

"You're making this worse for yourself," said Jerome as he held the first man in a chicken wing hold. "There's plenty of people here and there's me here, with a gun, you hurt someone with that knife and I shoot you."

'Damn that sounded cool' Jerome monologued internally. 'I like this job' he further thought. The man seemed to pause giving Jerome statement brief consideration as the man he held in a chicken wing bucked about trying to hit him but this didn't bother him in the slightest. The other man noticed the pistol Jerome carried and he gulped as he gently folded his knife and put it back in the car. Jerome then turned to the madam who stood there, still not over the shock from being nearly robbed.

"Madam?" he called out snapping her out of her daze.

"Thank you officer," she said and Jerome nodded.

"It's all good and well but could I trouble you to put this on that man," he said as he pulled out a pair of cuffs out of his pocket and threw it to the woman whilst at the same time nodding towards the other man who stood there without making a peep.

Jerome looked around to see several people recording this encounter on their cameras, well it's always pleasing to be seen by the crowd. He nodded towards the woman reassuring as she seemed to consider it carefully. Finally she nodded and bravely walked up towards the man who seemed to want to put up a fight but Jerome shot him down with a look. She cuffed him and then came back.

"Thank you madam," he said smiling gently and she blushed as she said 'thanks' again.

He looked at the man he held who appeared to given up the struggle and then looked at their car.

"Do you know how to drive?" asked Jerome tightening his grip on the man in a form of threat.

"Yes," he gasped out in pain.

"Well get in the car and drive to the Trade City East Police Station," he said pushing the man over the hood to the right side.

"You," he said to the other man. "Get in the back."

The other man nodded and clambered in and suddenly the applause occurred. It surprised him a little at first but he enjoyed it as he looked around with a grin.

"It's nothing folks, all in a day's work," he said climbing into the car.

He meritoriously chuckled to himself, he was really enjoying this job. It made him reconsider the fact that he wanted to be journalist. Perhaps he should have chosen the path of a police in the first place. He turned to the man that started car.

"Please don't try anything," he said as his hands rolled over his holstered pistol, the man gulped and then nodded.

He kicked the gear into first and took off as Jerome sighed in relief and enjoyment. He no longer needed to walk, thank god for thieves.