Chapter 4: A Constable's Job (2)

"What the hell were you thinking, Hall!?" shouted a man that Jerome had only recently come to know as Senior Sergeant Robert Deacon.

Jerome stood at ease, listening to the tirade even as he watched clips of what was described as a heroic officer thwarting two thieves. How his station and superiors got the news so fast, he could not figure out but the point is that they had.

"I warned you last week for stepping out of line!" Deacon roared in his ear whilst the man behind Deacon just stood there smirking.

"Constable Hall does certainly have a hero complex," said the man behind Deacon and no matter how Jerome looked at him, the person seemed like a snake.

"When approaching situations like these…you call for back up and secure the location!" he continued shouting. "To top it off you let a civilian cuff a criminal!"

"My hands were full," said Jerome offering a halfhearted a explanation and Deacon stopped as his chest heaved up and down and his white face now red like a tomato, it seemed he was about to blow a gasket, so to speak.

The man who stood behind Deacon saw and his smirk widened. He gave a passing glance at the man's name plate, Sergeant Roy Sharpe, he'd commit that name to memory.

"You think that such an explanation is going to suffice," said Deacon in a normal tone this time, to any that heard it, it would seem like he had calmed down but his face had only turned redder.

"You think you're a hero Hall, first investigating an already closed case and now pulling this stunt," said Deacon coming closer to him. "Do you think the rules don't apply to you, that you're above them?"

"No sir," said Jerome calmly.

Right now the man stood baring down at him…well baring up at him, the man was shorter than Jerome by about a head, he wore a mean Mario moustache and to top it off he had a fat paunch extending about a mile from his body.

Whilst his voice seemed threatening, his physique suggested anything but. Deacon stared up at him, his eyes wide and red.

"No sir, is correct Hall," said Deacon. "You obey your superiors, you obey the rules."

Jerome was half tempted to ask…'in that order' but he kept quiet as he looked straight on ahead, over Deacon's head.

"You are not a hero, Hall!" said Deacon suddenly roaring and spraying Jerome completely with spit.

It took all his self-control not to boot the apparently pregnant man through a window. He didn't think he could get wetter under heavy rain.

"You are a constable!" he roared again, spraying him with spit. "You are the lowest rungs of the police, do what you're told, nothing extra!"

"Yes sir," said Jerome keeping his fists clenched, if he didn't need this job, this man would be dead by now, how does one mouth have so much spit.

He attempted to take a step back to avoid another spray but the man followed him like a homing missile.

"Don't try to be extra smart Hall," said Deacon returning to normal voice and Jerome thanked the heavens above that he avoid another spit shower. "Do your job like the rules dictate and only do what needs to be done, don't do anything extra."

"Yes sir," said Jerome again.

"Get out," said Deacon finally relaxing enough to go behind his desk and take his seat on the chair. "If you pull anything like this again, I will have you suspended."

"Yes sir," said Jerome again and after he said that he carefully slid out of the room.

The first thing he did after he came out was go straight to the bathroom. He proceeded to wash his hair and face and wipe it clean, the disgust of being rained with spit was still in his subconscious. As soon as he came out he bumped into another man, this one he recognized. This was the man that helped him do the proceedings with the criminals and put them in the lock up. This man was another constable much like himself, an overenthusiastic man and apparently a fan of Jerome. Even though Jerome was the same rank as him, this man, Constable Leonard Blake liked to call him 'sir', a term that Jerome didn't mind too much. The only thing he did mind was this man's over-enthusiasm. He was just a constable for god's sake, not the leader of the free world.

"Hey sir," he greeted merrily.

"Hello Blake," Jerome greeted back wearily.

"I've processed their case sir," he said. "There was plenty of footage from social media, we didn't really need a complaint."

"That's good Blake," said Jerome tapping the man on his shoulder in a sign of acknowledgement.

Jerome made to walk past him, not even wondering whether this man was waiting outside the toilets for him specifically. As he pushed a step past Blake, he suddenly spoke.

"Uh sir, I was wondering, whether you got anything from that informant you were going to meet yesterday?"

Jerome suddenly paused, frowning he turned around, "What?"

"Oh, you said you had a breakthrough in the full moon decapitations case, something that could change the stories, you said you were meeting an informant," he said with a jolly smile. "Did you get anything?"

An informant, Jerome's frown deepened, did that dead man have any information on his frame job. Well, he didn't know anyhow, but he would have to start unraveling this case.

"Did I say anything else?" asked Jerome curious, when Blake looked at him questioningly he expanded. "About the full moon decapitations."

"You said that there was a conspiracy behind it," said Blake frowning as he thought. "That this case extended further and deeper than anyone had thought."

Jerome's eyes lit up, "Yes, that's right…what else?"

"Ummm, that's about it sir," said Blake. "You never said anything past that."

He scowled, couldn't the previous owner of the body have just shared everything with this fellow, it would be so convenient…for him. Maybe Jerome Hall had a diary, something he could look through and this diary would contain all the information but disappointed he shook his head. He had searched that man's messy room, if there was anything of such, he would have found it. It seemed Jerome Hall kept all his secrets locked away in his memories, which had gone along with the man for the ride into the afterlife.

"Thanks Blake," he said sighing and he proceeded to walk off.

As he reached the doorway to the work area the intercoms suddenly crackled to life.

***

[Would all constables on duty report to room 3…repeating, would all constables on duty report to room 3. Thank you]

Constables on duty, that was him and he looked around, there were several others as well but where the hell was room 3. It was his first time in the police station.

"Um excuse me," he turned to stop someone rushing past him but he was tapped on the shoulder by someone.

He whirled around to stand face to face with Blake.

"Blake…what is it?" he asked surprised.

"Let's go to room 3 sir," he said and Jerome smiled, seemed like he wouldn't have to ask anyone.

"Right you are Blake," he said. "Lead the way."

He stopped as he noticed Blake frowning.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You seem different sir," he said and Jerome's heart jumped.

"Different?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "How?"

"You're usually more quiet, always focused, it seems very different from how you're acting now," said Blake looking over Jerome carefully.

'Damn, did he get caught already?' was his first thought. Then he looked at Blake who despite being curious wasn't suspicious.

"Ah yes," said Jerome. "I've decided to try a new tact to my policing Blake, to adapt and evolve is one of core principles of Trade City East policing principles."

Blake looked curious for a moment longer before his face stretched in a satisfied smile.

"It's all good sir," he said, Jerome nodded breathing a sigh of relief.

Jerome, lead by Blake walked towards room 3 and as they arrived and as he arrived he saw some other constables entering. Wondering, what on earth the reason could be to gather them as such, he entered only to be met with pictures of East City Hospital's mortuary fire. Focusing on the pictures Jerome slowly took a seat next to Blake. Standing at the forefront next to the lectern was Sergeant Roy Sharpe, the snake and he looked over them all with a sly smile, his eyes landing for a second too long on Jerome.

"Hmmm, thank you all for gathering on such a short notice," said Roy taking a serious tone as Jerome paid attention to his each word.

"Now you all probably have heard," said Roy. "But there was a case of arson at East City Hospital, more specifically its mortuary and several corpses were burned, the blaze was controlled quickly enough but by our estimate we have already lost twenty bodies, maybe more."

There was a wave of murmurs washing over the room as Roy looked around, waiting for them to finish discussing his words and statistics.

"Yes…now onto the more pressing issue," said Roy. "The arsonist is still at large and he is dangerous."

Still at large…Jerome almost laughed, the arsonist was in this room, sitting right in front of the snake. Further murmurs passed through the room and Jerome heard bits and pieces.

"That's shocking sir," said Blake turning to Jerome and he nodded sympathetically.

"It really is," said Jerome. "They still haven't caught him yet."

"The hospital is in the north circle jurisdiction," continued Roy. "They are investigating this case but as we are the closest station to them they have asked for our help, we will be sending you over to gather evidence from the scene of the crime, any evidence you gather will be handed over to north circle, this is a voluntary job so no one is forcing you to go, they have requested our help due to extenuating circumstances so I dare say some of you may stay back."

Again his eyes landed on Jerome who just stared back at him.

"For those of who are going, as I said earlier, any evidence collected at the scene belongs to the north circle, so hand it over," said Roy. "Now…a show of hands, who wants to go?"

Jerome frowned as he thought back. He believed he hadn't left any evidence behind.

"Eckhard," whispered Jerome. "Jog my memory, we were clean in the job right?"

<>

"Why do I feel uneasy then," he said biting the finger nail on his thumb.

He got no reply from Eckhard and Blake who was next to him raised his hand up high.

"Sir, put your hand up," he whispered to Jerome. "We need to go help them."

Jerome came to a realization at that moment, he didn't have a hero complex but this man, Leonard Blake, this man most definitely had a hero complex. He thought about it, was it wise to further involve himself with this man as he had read this man's psychology. If Leonard Blake knew Jerome's true nature, he would no doubt turn in instant on him, preaching justice and morals. This man was similar to how he was prior to his stint in prison…how curious? Would he then be able to change this man's mindset as well, with sufficient pressure. Anyhow, he raised his hand as well alongside the six others including Blake. Roy Sharpe nodded but then paused again as his eyes landed on Jerome.

He spoke with a smirk, "Again I should say this is the north circle's case, we are only helping with evidence gathering, do not do anything unnecessary."

Despite Roy's warning, Jerome thought his face showed signs of daring people to do what he said not to do. This man, he wanted trouble Jerome realized, he enjoyed it and he wanted to punish people, some sadistic tendencies he noted, this man was a little like the warden, not exact, the warden was far more sadistic. He shivered as he thought back to the lobotomy. Whoever was behind this conspiracy to frame him, they didn't have an ounce of humanity left in them.

***

Bishop's Bar, West Wing, Trade City East

The man in the monocle, impeccably dressed came down to his empty bar. It wasn't open and it wouldn't open for another couple of hours. He breathed in the fresh morning air as he opened a bottle of whiskey and poured himself one on the rocks. Nothing like whiskey to relax in the morning he thought with a smile when suddenly he heard a commotion outside the bar. Frowning he placed down his glass and went to it only to see a man, the same man as yesterday, wearing the same trench coat with deranged eyes, trying force his way in. He was stopped by the two guards the man had hired.

"Let me go!" he screamed. "Let me go, let me inside…you're all cheaters!"

The man in the monocle looked at the scene calmly until the deranged man finally noticed him.

"You," he teethed, the man in the monocle let out a cold smile, something however that did not seem to bother him.

"Your promise was that he'd be dead," said the man quietly before raising his voice. "You said that Jerome Hall would be dead, that's your promise, you took my money…my GODDAMN MONEY!"

The man in the monocle frowned, again talking business, this time in public where anyone could hear.

"Bring him in," he said to one of the guards and he stepped into his bar as his guards dragged the man kicking and screaming inside. As soon as he was brought inside, the man with renewed vigour broke free of his guards and rushed at him and grabbed him by the collar. He gritted his teeth in displeasure. His disliked anyone coming into his personal space and this man had not only stepped in but had also grabbed him by the collar, messing up his suit.

"Let go," he said gripping the deranged man's hand with a vice like grip and pulling it off.

He then stepped back and straightened his collar.

"You get paid, you kill," said the man with tears in his eyes, still managing to look as angry as a bull. "Hundred percent success rate, then why on earth is Jerome Hall still alive."

Yes…that was another thing that was bothering him. Had he finally failed a contract, if he had then he would lose his reputation. He turned around and picked up his drink, after draining the glass in one shot he turned back to the man who looked like he had lost everything.

"If a contract was put out on Jerome Hall then he would be dead," said the man in the monocle, breaking his own rule for the first time and speaking about business.

"You say that!" the man roared. "But he's as alive as yesterday and he walked into his job this morning, my people saw it."

"Indeed," the man said with a raised eyebrow as he twirled the ice around in his empty glass. "Did you give us the right picture?"

"Yes," said the man gritting his teeth. "Constable Jerome Elliot Hall, works at Trade City East Police Station, east circle and lives at East Wing, Building 23, Unit 2."

The man in the monocle nodded slightly impressed. Despite appearing like a monkey, this man had still done his background job.

"Very well," said the man in the monocle. "I myself shall check and re-evaluate and then have him re-killed if necessary."

"What…you-," the man started but he was stopped by the man in the monocle grabbing him by the throat and lifting him up as he choked.

"You have forced me to break one of my own rules," he said viciously. "I will do as I have said and you will wait, if not I will have you buried so far deep that they will not be able to find your body for the next hundred years at least."

He threw away the man and nodded to the guards. They grabbed the weakened man and dragged him across, exiting the bar. Frowning he sat down on a bar stool. Had his men made a mistake…no they couldn't have they seemed so sure of themselves. Then what on earth had happened? He himself had done his due diligence on constable Jerome Elliot Hall, the man was as normal as they come and he had one brother studying at a private school in another city. He had no other family to speak of. Then there was the question, had his men betrayed him, sided with Jerome? No, what on earth did Jerome have that he did not causing his own men to betray his side. No it was none of the above, if so then what was it? Had the dead man come back to alive, a miracle of good perhaps? He would need to look into this but above all it stood to the fact that he had for the first time failed a contract. He gritted his teeth as he gripped the glass and slowly cracks formed across. There was a moment of silence after which the glass shattered in his hand along with the ice, it all falling to floor and yet despite holding the broken shards of glass, despite squeezing down on it, his hands did not seem to bleed.