The art of Murder - A Vincent Kapoulous crime story
He arrived back at the precinct and saw Jane. “Come into my office.”
Jane dutifully followed him. She shut the door behind them and locked it. Vincent took his seat and leaned back in his chair.
Jane took her usual spot in the worn leather chair and sat down front of him. “Well?” She asked.
“I got several things going and I’m trying to put them all together. Have you found anything about the Will?”
“Still on that. Looking for a witness that witnessed the witnesses.”
“I’m gonna ram my head through a wall, I swear!” Vincent slammed his hand on the desk.
“I know hon. And I must admit, this is the strangest case you’re had yet. Nothing straight forward.”
“You’re telling me. It’s got more twist and turns that a cow’s intestine.” Vincent got up and stood at the window looking out over the parking lot. “Anything from Brannon’s camp?”
“Alls quiet on the Western Front,” Jane said. “Then Thomas has been keeping him busy. I like that kid.”
Vincent snickered. “Don’t let that kid fool you. He’s a little tricky. But yeah, I like him too.”
There was a long silence, then, “Why don’t you tell her?”
Vincent turned to his secretary. “What?”
“Tell her how you feel about her. You’re falling for her, if you haven’t already.”
“That would be a nail in the coffin if I told her that. I can’t afford that. If I have to suffer, so be it. But if she knew—”
“You don’t think she already knows?” Jane asked, incredulously.
“I think she thinks I’m playing her. That’s fine by me. She trusts me somewhat. But no, my feelings for her, whatever they might be, she has no clue.”
“She’s not stupid.”
Vincent turned and sat on the edge of the desk facing Jane. “It ain’t like she runs into my waiting arms every time I show up. If anything she tolerates my presence. Sort of like the plumber. She’s annoyed that he’s there, but knows he has to fix the problem.”
Jane laughed. Then she quickly sobered up. “I think she’s fallen for you too. She’s scared. The poor thing is looking at a murder and possibly getting thrown in jail any minute. She doesn’t know who to trust at this moment. She sees you as the enemy but at the same time, she needs to rely on you.”
Vincent hated when Jane made sense. And that was a lot of times. “I…I can’t. You have to understand. I never….”
“I never felt this way about a woman before.” He leaned back a bit. “I don’t know if it’s because I can’t have her, or she’s not showing me any
interest….” He shook his head. “I just don’t know.”
“Well, well,” Jane said, with a cheese-eating grin on her face.
“What do you mean by that?” Vincent put his hands on his thighs defiantly.
“The handsome Detective, Vincent Kapoulous has finally met his match.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve known you since you started working here. I’ve watched you work your way up from a rookie to top detective. I’ve seen you get called on
the carpet more times that a disobedient child.”
“I’ve also seen you wrap every female cop around your finger and slept with half of them.”
“Now wait a minute!” Vincent shot up.
It was true; Vincent was ladies man. It was also true that Vincent came to Jane to talk about his romantic troubles. That was a mistake!
“Look hon. I’m not judging you. But you’re in love with this woman. She’s an enigma to you, plus being drop dead gorgeous. Now I’m not
saying Brannon is right, that he should have pulled you off the case first thing. But your head is twisted. If you tell her, I think you two can
come to an understanding and it won’t be so hard on either one of you.”
Jane raised her chubby hand. “No butts. You said yourself you don’t think she did it. You’re never wrong.”
“Except that one time.”
“That was a special case and don’t let that haunt you.”
Vincent leaned against the walls of his office, his eyes closed. He hated to admit it, but everything Jane said made sense. But he couldn’t tell Sylvia. What if…what if the feelings were not mutual?
“Look at it this way. If you tell her and she actually hates you, it will be that much easier to do your job.”
Vincent looked down at Jane. “I hate the way you live inside my head.’
“Look hon, if I lived inside your head, I would lose my mind.”