Negative 22 degrees farenheit with the windchill on Tuesday morning. Yesterday it was about 20 (no wind), and we were all remarking on how warm it was. It really is all relative, isn’t it?
I keep striving for something to write about for this. Nothing about the weather, nothing about code, nothing about office layoffs. And yet I’m stuck there. Nothing really appropriate to write for the new year.
So enjoy this instead.
It was rare to see anyone dressed up nice on the shop floor. Most of the time, if anyone showed up in a suit, they were sent directly to Rose’s office. This was for efficiency’s sake, as most suits were detectives or business people, and they always wanted the boss; Moravek herself.
The normal exception was Nataly Jorjano, who roamed about the shop floor in a variety of outfits. Most often, Nataly wore a variant on the scrubs used by regular doctors, combined with her own slacks and tops. After their years together, Rose still considered it novel to see her lover in a suit, and even more so a skirt suit. “He drives me crazy,” ranted Nataly, in high heels, a maroon skirt, and a cream blouse.
Lounging in a chair by the office door was JC Kitka, dressed equally well in her police dress blues. Kit’s tie was already at half mast and her jacket hung across her knees. “Bosses are supposed to do that.” Kitka pointed out.
Both women had been in court all week, after Kitka and her partner Dan had closed up a case. Rose didn’t really know what the case was about, since Nataly took her job seriously and rarely brought work home. While Rose lived her work, Nataly had a clear demarcation between Dr. Jojano the coroner, and Nataly the amateur photographer.
“On behalf of everyone who signs a paycheck, I resent that.” Rose glanced at one of her new employees, who winked back.
Nataly pivoted perfectly on one heel, a trick Rose envied. Even when her legs had been perfect, Rose had never been comfortable on heels. “You don’t count,” replied Nataly, her tone acidic. Rose let her eyes drift over Nataly’s well muscled legs. “Stop staring at my gams, gran. You’re not listening.”
Of course Rose was listening. “I can eyeball and listen at the same time, continental girl,” Rose sassed back cheerfully.
From the chair came Kitka’s mellow commentary. “Navy pot calling the world traveled photographer black.”
It was strange how no one was ever really mad at Kitka. She had a natural affinity to avoiding anger. “Fine, Madam Moravek,” said Nataly with a good dose of snark. And she waited.
Rose knew what Nataly wanted. The bizarre game was for Rose to guess what had set Nataly off this time. Normally it was Nataly’s inability to comprehend pop culture. When it was work, though, Rose had less of a chance of pegging the problem. Still, without knowing the root cause, Rose could figure out most of it. She finished the repair job and wheeled over to the mini-fridge for three cokes. As Nataly started to loose her patience, Rose eased her chair in beside Kitka.
“Let’s start with the easy. You went to court.” Nataly nodded and Rose handed her a coke. “This case didn’t go over well. In fact, it was for crap, which is why Dan’s not here. He’s fixing up what ever damage you two caused.” Kitka sighed and nodded, earning her a coke from Rose. “You both got shafted for someone else’s fuck up?”
After a moment, Nataly growled and stomped her way into and through Rose’s office to the inner stairwell up to their living space. Kitka looked over at Rose and shrugged, apologetically.
“She’s been like that the whole day,” said Kit, a little quietly. “One of the emergency backup coroners ham-handed an autopsy, and since Talbot quit last month, Natch is holding the bag.”
Talbot had been an absolute idiot, and Rose had spent many dinners entertained by stories of the Fat Fuck, as Nataly referred to him. “I don’t really envy her on that one,” Rose admitted. “I’ve had my share of incompetent bosses.”
“True, but in the Navy, you could dump them overboard.” This wasn’t true, Kitka knew it, but it was still a little funny. “Talbot’s botch was pretty impressive. It was the case with that nutter who drove into the restaurant on Oak a couple months ago.”
Rose was only passingly familiar with the case. “That was the lady who swerved off LSD?”
Nodding, Kitka eyed her Coke and then took a swig. “Hopped the barrier, swung around and killed six kids on their way to Gibsons, before nailing one of those new restaurants.” The cop was as relaxed and laconic as ever.
“That I remember. They called Natch at three in the morning. How’d you end up working the case?” The phone used to be on Rose’s side of the bed, but after three years of phone calls at disgusting hours in the morning, she’d conceded and moved the cordless to the other side. Still, Rose had a hard time getting to sleep after being woken up early.
The young detective shrugged, “I was on call and lucky, I guess. Dan and I went for an early ride along. You know, plain clothes dicks wandering about Chicago on a Saturday night. Makes America safe.” Kit’s voice was mild with irony.