Young Writers Society

Morgan gave a slight gasp as Winslow pulled away. The detective ruffled the young patrolman’s hair before walking out of the library to meet Reilly in the hall. He knew that the coroner had most likely been waiting in the main hallway for a long time after the frantic telephone conversation they had earlier. Winslow walked over to the seated doctor who was either carefully watching the movements of the crime scene detectives or staring off into space under the influence of a mysterious cloud.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you down here in the middle of the night-”

The detective was interrupted by the coroner leaping from his seat to tightly grab him around the shoulders. This embrace only lasted for a few seconds before Reilly quietly said, “I was so afraid that when you called me that you had done something else reckless to your health. I know that you’re an old man at heart and experience, but your body is still very young.”

Reilly didn’t give Winslow time to answer as he started leading the detective up the stairs to the crime scene. They passed by the master bedroom, the maid’s room, and a few guest rooms. Winslow guessed that the widow and the maid had retired to one of these rooms to express the frustrated emotions in the library interview. The sound of shouting became more evident as Winslow stepped into O’Keefe’s room where Reggie sat on the victims bed. His arms were extended as he shouted to the police officer, “I did not kill that man. I simply came here to interview him.”

Reggie attempted to stand up from the bed, pointing at Winslow and saying, “I came here with him to interview a witness who sent us a tip and now you’re accusing me of murder.”

“Please just have a seat, sir, until Detective Smith and Dr. Reilly can talk to you,” explained the nameless officer.

Winslow motioned for the officer to leave the room as he said, “We’ll take it from here, officer. Go down stairs and help with the crowd control.”

The still nameless officer remained motionless at the bed side, the muscles around his eyes straining slightly in the dim room. He cautiously walked over to the butler’s window, took a look out onto the lawn, and then turned back around to ask, “What crowd, sir?”

A smirk crossed his face as the comment escaped from his lips. A constant stream of glares were exchanged between Reggie and the officer before Winslow stepped in between them. While the balding patrolman might have had a height advantage over the seated military intelligence official, Winslow had a good three inches on him in several different places. The detective preferred to gather respect from the officers he worked with, but this stubborn ass didn’t want to go that route.

“There is going to be a crowd of people out there any minute inquiring about the death of the butler and its connection to the death of the man of the house,” Winslow paused while carefully choosing his next words. “So, you can either walk down those stairs and out to the front lawn-”

“Or what, sir? Are going to throw me down the stairs?”

“No,” Winslow whispered as he took a step even closer to the officer. “If you don’t leave immediately, I’m going to throw you out of that window and then the coroner will have another body to take away tonight.”

The detective stepped back far another to see the blood draining from the man’s face, but still in range to protect Reggie from further threats. Winslow had spent enough time protecting the Scot to know when he needed protection. His stare down only lasted for a few more seconds before the officer excused himself from the room. This exit barely got a look of recognition from other officers in the vicinity. And it got no response from the crime scene detectives who were carefully combing through every scrap possible - they were used to the drama.

Winslow wished he could tune it out like they did as he sunk down on the bed beside Reggie.

“Winslow, you didn’t need to do that. In fact, you shouldn’t have done that. What if that officer goes to his superiors about you harassing him like that?” Reggie asked as he slowly regained his breath.

Before Winslow had a chance to give a smart alack answer about being the boss, he was reminded of Reilly’s presence as the coroner explained, “Winslow doesn’t need to worry about disciplinary action because there’s no way Internal Affairs would ever believe a tip off from that guy.”

“Why not?”

“Because Winslow is one of the few cops they don’t have to investigate for being dirty and Officer Jackson there is being investigated for being on the take. From what I say tonight, it looked like he recognized you, mister, and he was probably given a special assignment concerning your life.”

As Reilly said the word “mister”, Winslow realized that these two probably hadn’t been introduced. If they had been introduced at another point in time, one too many poisonings or shootings or having his skull cracked open had forced the memory out of the detectives head.

“Dr. Reilly, this is an old friend of mine, Lord John Reginald Smith,” Winslow explained as he pointed to the frumpled spy sitting on a messed up bed sheet. The detective chuckled a bit as he further explained, “And I guess y’all can figure out how it works the other way.”

The two men smiled at each other with seductive grins that Winslow knew all too well. Having bedded both of them, the detective could only imagine what it would be like to be in bed with the both of them. He observed their flirting for a few minutes before offering a cigarette and lighter to Reilly as a gesture to get the investigative show on the road.

Reilly passed the lighter back to Winslow, took a few puffs on his newly lit cigarette. Winslow lit one of his own cigarettes and asked, “So are we going to see the essential evidence that you found, Doctor, or are you two just going to flirt all night?”