#9a
Heebom Tower : later the same night
A cold regular rain had began to fall. Thin drops formed a dancing curtain in streetlight’s halos. Pinelvy crossed the street back to Heebom Tower. He jumped over the gutter, mentally ranting about streets dirtiness. His polished leather shoes slipped on the side walk and almost made him fall, which certainly didn’t improve his mood. He quelled the desire to run up the potentially dangerous stair to the building. Sergeant Smith was guarding the wide glass doors at the entrance. His superior did not try to hide his exasperation:
“What do they do? Have you called them as I required?”
“Yessir!”
“Journalists and other muckrakers won’t be long to come. Damn them, they would even come with a bone freezing blizzard! We’ll need your lazy colleagues.”
“It was just twenty minutes ago sir, they won’t delay much longer.”
“I hope so. Where’s this phone?”
The sergeant pointed at the wooden counter sitting between a pair of impressive spiral stairs.
“I called directly from the switchboard, sir.”
“Thanks.”
Smith’s nostrils frowned under the heavy trail of aftershave scent floating behind the commander. Pinelvy crossed the old fashioned hall. He hated to be awaken like that in the middle of the night, but hie had to admit that his subordinates did well. So well that he was just about to mimic them and wake someone a few steps higher in the hierarchy, which he did not like to do either. The switchboard was a big mess of wires. The police commander sat in the big red velvet chair. It was uncomfortable. Secretaries obviously needed impressive furniture for the standing, but were not granted quality as well. From this position, he noticed a regular phone fixed to the left under the plank of the counter.
He mopped the water on his forehead up and meticulously refolded his red handkerchief and slid it back in his jacket’s breast pocket. He quickly brushed out the drops still sitting on his slicked black hair. Finally, he bent over the desk, grabbed the phone’s auricle and composed the number for the Central Judiciary Administration Tower. A dozen of seconds passed until a tired female voice answered.
“Central Judiciary Administration, at your service.”
“Commander Pinelvy here, from LaSalle’s Police Station. P-I-N-E-L-V-Y. I need a talk with Judge Caryotte. It is extremely urgent.”
“It’s almost midnight sir, I’m not sure if you will find him at work.”
“Never mind put me through his secretariat, there must be a basic service maintained.”
“All right sir.”
The line went silent. Pinelvy started to drum his manicured fingers on the desk. Small marks left by long nails in the varnish suggested that he wasn’t the first to do so. Another female voice finally asked sharply:
“Mr Pinelvy?”
“Indeed.”
“Mr Caryotte is absent and probably sleeping.”
“The matter is urgent enough to wake him if need be.”
“I’ll see what can be done, hold the line.”
Silence again. Pinelvy took the opportunity to detail the main hall: worn black and white marbles on the floor, waxed wooden panels and benches along the walls, ornate shining copper stands for electric light bulbs. No green plants, no sculptures, no mouldings, no mirrors.... It was definitely tasteless. He was dragged from his thoughts by a dry male voice.
“What is it Pinelvy?”
A shiver ran through his back. He nervously transferred the auricle from an ear to the other.
“Mr Peter?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, I wanted to contact Mr Caryotte…”
“No need to wake him, since I’m at work.”
Pinelvy desperately pondered the situation, but there wasn’t anything he could do to dodge.
“I’m in Heebom Tower. A murder has been committed about thirty minutes ago.”
“And?”
“Well, the victim is Mr Dass, the president of the Clean Streets, Clean Hands Party.”
“I’ll be there within fifteen minutes.”
“But…”
Only the dialling tone answered him.
Pinelvy furiously hung the auricle again, with a noise that reverberated through the hall.
“Bloody owl! Does he never sleep?”
He checked his watch: 11:34pm. Sighing, he went to the toilets and looked at his reflection in the mirror. There was nothing he could do about the rings around his eyes, but he still removed a slight deposit of mucus at the corner of his left eyelid. He took the time to relieve himself and went back to the hall.
Car doors slamming and a general mess informed him that the reinforcements had arrived. He hurried to the entrance.
“Just about time! Good night gentlemen. I want two men upstairs with the single man looking after the suspects, 26th floor. Two men to guard the main door here. Sergeant Smith, take five and go secure the area around the corpse.”
“Yessir.”
“The rest of you have better securing this building and keeping journalists away. And I would do that very well and very quickly if I were you: the Judge is coming.”
The reference was sarcastic but efficient nonetheless. Several of the men had probably been pulled out of their bed but everyone ran to assigned duties. Pinelvy took a young cop apart:
“Try to see if there’s a way to provide us all some hot coffee. Looks like we’re in for a sleepless night.”
The commander was about to check his men’s positions when the switchboard’s phone rang. This caused a cacophony in the almost empty hall, especially in the relative silence of the night. He ran to the desk and took the line.
“Heebom Tower?”
“Yes, who are you?”
“Agent Miller sir.”
“Ah, all right. What do you want?”
“We have another case on our hands sir.”
“Yes?”
“A fusillade has just taken place on North Lake Shore Drive. A house is in fire.”
“Do we control the situation?”
“Yes, the fight was over even before our agents arrived, but I thought that you should be warned.”
“Excellent. Ask the higher ranked available officer to prepare a short report. I’ll call you back later with instructions.”
He rang off. Could this night become even worse?
Heebom Tower : later the same night
A cold regular rain had began to fall. Thin drops formed a dancing curtain in streetlight’s halos. Pinelvy crossed the street back to Heebom Tower. He jumped over the gutter, mentally ranting about streets dirtiness. His polished leather shoes slipped on the side walk and almost made him fall, which certainly didn’t improve his mood. He quelled the desire to run up the potentially dangerous stair to the building. Sergeant Smith was guarding the wide glass doors at the entrance. His superior did not try to hide his exasperation:
“What do they do? Have you called them as I required?”
“Yessir!”
“Journalists and other muckrakers won’t be long to come. Damn them, they would even come with a bone freezing blizzard! We’ll need your lazy colleagues.”
“It was just twenty minutes ago sir, they won’t delay much longer.”
“I hope so. Where’s this phone?”
The sergeant pointed at the wooden counter sitting between a pair of impressive spiral stairs.
“I called directly from the switchboard, sir.”
“Thanks.”
Smith’s nostrils frowned under the heavy trail of aftershave scent floating behind the commander. Pinelvy crossed the old fashioned hall. He hated to be awaken like that in the middle of the night, but hie had to admit that his subordinates did well. So well that he was just about to mimic them and wake someone a few steps higher in the hierarchy, which he did not like to do either. The switchboard was a big mess of wires. The police commander sat in the big red velvet chair. It was uncomfortable. Secretaries obviously needed impressive furniture for the standing, but were not granted quality as well. From this position, he noticed a regular phone fixed to the left under the plank of the counter.
He mopped the water on his forehead up and meticulously refolded his red handkerchief and slid it back in his jacket’s breast pocket. He quickly brushed out the drops still sitting on his slicked black hair. Finally, he bent over the desk, grabbed the phone’s auricle and composed the number for the Central Judiciary Administration Tower. A dozen of seconds passed until a tired female voice answered.
“Central Judiciary Administration, at your service.”
“Commander Pinelvy here, from LaSalle’s Police Station. P-I-N-E-L-V-Y. I need a talk with Judge Caryotte. It is extremely urgent.”
“It’s almost midnight sir, I’m not sure if you will find him at work.”
“Never mind put me through his secretariat, there must be a basic service maintained.”
“All right sir.”
The line went silent. Pinelvy started to drum his manicured fingers on the desk. Small marks left by long nails in the varnish suggested that he wasn’t the first to do so. Another female voice finally asked sharply:
“Mr Pinelvy?”
“Indeed.”
“Mr Caryotte is absent and probably sleeping.”
“The matter is urgent enough to wake him if need be.”
“I’ll see what can be done, hold the line.”
Silence again. Pinelvy took the opportunity to detail the main hall: worn black and white marbles on the floor, waxed wooden panels and benches along the walls, ornate shining copper stands for electric light bulbs. No green plants, no sculptures, no mouldings, no mirrors.... It was definitely tasteless. He was dragged from his thoughts by a dry male voice.
“What is it Pinelvy?”
A shiver ran through his back. He nervously transferred the auricle from an ear to the other.
“Mr Peter?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, I wanted to contact Mr Caryotte…”
“No need to wake him, since I’m at work.”
Pinelvy desperately pondered the situation, but there wasn’t anything he could do to dodge.
“I’m in Heebom Tower. A murder has been committed about thirty minutes ago.”
“And?”
“Well, the victim is Mr Dass, the president of the Clean Streets, Clean Hands Party.”
“I’ll be there within fifteen minutes.”
“But…”
Only the dialling tone answered him.
Pinelvy furiously hung the auricle again, with a noise that reverberated through the hall.
“Bloody owl! Does he never sleep?”
He checked his watch: 11:34pm. Sighing, he went to the toilets and looked at his reflection in the mirror. There was nothing he could do about the rings around his eyes, but he still removed a slight deposit of mucus at the corner of his left eyelid. He took the time to relieve himself and went back to the hall.
Car doors slamming and a general mess informed him that the reinforcements had arrived. He hurried to the entrance.
“Just about time! Good night gentlemen. I want two men upstairs with the single man looking after the suspects, 26th floor. Two men to guard the main door here. Sergeant Smith, take five and go secure the area around the corpse.”
“Yessir.”
“The rest of you have better securing this building and keeping journalists away. And I would do that very well and very quickly if I were you: the Judge is coming.”
The reference was sarcastic but efficient nonetheless. Several of the men had probably been pulled out of their bed but everyone ran to assigned duties. Pinelvy took a young cop apart:
“Try to see if there’s a way to provide us all some hot coffee. Looks like we’re in for a sleepless night.”
The commander was about to check his men’s positions when the switchboard’s phone rang. This caused a cacophony in the almost empty hall, especially in the relative silence of the night. He ran to the desk and took the line.
“Heebom Tower?”
“Yes, who are you?”
“Agent Miller sir.”
“Ah, all right. What do you want?”
“We have another case on our hands sir.”
“Yes?”
“A fusillade has just taken place on North Lake Shore Drive. A house is in fire.”
“Do we control the situation?”
“Yes, the fight was over even before our agents arrived, but I thought that you should be warned.”
“Excellent. Ask the higher ranked available officer to prepare a short report. I’ll call you back later with instructions.”
He rang off. Could this night become even worse?
Last edited:
Speaking of clean streets, you might not know but one mayor lost her job because she couldn’t keep the streets clear of snow during one long cold winter. 
