Chapter Text
April 2023
Kent had arrived earlier than usual to the Headquarters’ main office. It was a special day, after all.
Ten years ago, when his original team had split up, his reputation had been stained. He never gave up, though, and as the years went by (and saw his former team mates retire) he worked very hard to get back to the top. It hadn’t been easy. Cases like “The Triple Axe Murder” had taken its told on his mind, but the thought of Shrewsbury kept him out of drowning in a mental breakdown.
He was going to get his DI insignia today. He had earned it and everyone in the office knew it. He had invited his former friends, in which Miles had only apologised for not assisting. He expected the other three to come, at least after the ceremony to celebrate and get up to date. He knew Mansell would make it, he had transferred after 2 years of enduring life “post-Iver”.
Commissioner Anderson gave a few inspiring words, awarded other constables and Sergeants with their own insignias, and then went for Kent. His eyes were somber when he read the brief paragraph Kent had delivered as a CV for everyone to recall why he was getting his insignia today. He had suffered the fall of his godson enough.
“You could have skipped your first four years as a Detective Constable.” He mumbled while shaking his hand for a photograph. “It was completely unnecessary for everyone to remember—“
“It’s part of my career. No one should take as long as I did to get this.” Kent pointed at the new insignia on his uniform. Commissioner Anderson rolled his eyes, exhaled and smiled for the camera in front of them.
After the ceremony finished, Kent was happy to see Riley, Buchan and Mansell sitting behind the Police-assigned seats. Riley shook her hand smiling very wide, Buchan and Mansell tried following her. He went down the podium to say hi.
Riley had left the force once everything went to hell. It was understandable, the case wasn’t worth her children, and it had already taken enough from her as it was. She had a cool work now as an event planner which didn’t consume her time, and left her enough pounds to take her family to France once in a while. She was the one that visited Kent at the HQ building the most, sometimes bringing expensive leftovers from her events as a lunch (fully knowing he was skipping meals and such).
Mansell, at the beginning, had stayed out of respect for the boss. He didn’t want to give up on the case, but he knew that without the whole team (and support from the British Police) nothing would be done to stop whatever had consumed their lives for four years in the force. After two years of trying, he transferred to another department and that was it. Kent was left on his own, pushing him to quit the case and starting once again from scratch.
“I’ve brought you some lemon garlic scallops, and other deliciousness!” Riley said handing him the Tupperware in a cute bag and going for a full hug. “Aww! We’re so proud of you!” He felt the knot in his throat, he just smiled and nodded to avoid tearing up there.
“You’ve achieve it, bruv,” Mansell shook his hand and then went for a hug, “after all the shite around, you did it.” Mansell then gave a look to Riley and both sighed. Kent knew the phrase that was missing. That joke. The one that was unmentionable now.
Buchan had a wine bottle, he handed it to Kent and went for a hug. “You are still on that path, young Kent. A real detective, you are!” Kent laughed and felt at ease by that.
“Thank you for coming, I appreciate this greatly.”
“Aww, Kent. You know we’ll always be a team.” Riley said picking up something from Kent’s suit and throwing it away.
“Yeah, nothing can erase that bond between us.” Completed Mansell, but Kent was looking behind him. He thought he had seen a lady in red. The three civilians turned, curious about was taking Kent’s attention.
“We can go now, then.” Riley brought him back. “To that sushi place, I think it’s still open.” Kent smiled, blinking.
“For old times’ sake!” Mansell cheered. “I bet the same sushi chef it’s still around.”
“The proper name, Mansell, it’s ‘itamae’.” Buchan added. “Sea food might be actually good for my intestines today.”
“That’s gross, Buchan.” Kent chuckled. “I can drive you all there.” Everyone stopped on their tracks while Kent took out his keys. He then noticed and turned back. “What?”
“Well, well, you’re a proper DI and all now!” Mansell joined him and ruffled his hair. “What you have? An Audi?” Kent shook his head.
“Will you ever change?” Riley followed Kent. “Doesn’t matter what car is it, I will forever remember young Kent in his Vespa.” Everyone laughed, even Kent. It was good to remember the good bits of the past. They all got in his Land Rover and drove to the sushi place where, once, they had celebrated the boss’s birthday.
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“What has happened to the archive?” Buchan asked, trying to get a roll in between his chopsticks. He was struggling.
“It’s all digital now.” Kent replied, passing Riley the soy sauce.
“That’s sad.”
“Why?” Asked Riley surprised. “It’s easier and comfortable that way! Less risks of contracting something from the old paper!”
“Nothing will ever give you the thrill of an investigation like old files, corrupted photos and the smell of dried coffee stained on the yellow paper.” Buchan gave up and took the roll with a fork.
“Oh, don’t be such a snob.” Riley snorted. “Did you invite the Sergeant?” Kent nodded chewing a shrimp.
“He moved to south of London, it’s a bit far away so he apologised for not being able to come.”
“Aww, would’ve been lovely to have you all lot in one place…” Riley sighed. “Well, almost all of you, of course.” There was a sad smile after that, and a melancholy in the air.
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His mobile ran as soon as he got back to his office in the Headquarters building.
“DI Kent,” he took a file with his free hand, waiting for a reply, “hello?” He heard a slow breathing on the other side of the line. The static seemed to form words, in another language perhaps. Or so he thought, since it was impossible. “I’m going to hang up now, since I can’t hear a thing.” He tapped the red button on the screen.
The mobile rang again.
Kent jumped at the ringtone, tapped the red button and turned his mobile off. He sat on his chair, looked at the file and tried to focus on it. Antoni Pricha, around 30 years old, murdered on Alie St., with signs of struggle. The phone on his desk started ringing. Loudly. Making the DI jump back.
He took the call, it was one of his constables.
“Sir!” He sounded nervous.
“Yes?”
“There is another body on Alie St., sir,” his voice trembled, “and we’ve got an ID of him: Jack Cheshire.” Kent sighed.
“Photograph the body, don’t move it until I get there. Are you with Alice?”
“Yes, she’s already examining the corpse.”
“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” he got up, put his coat on, “are there any signs of struggle?” There was a silence after that, he called the constable’s name in a hurry.
“Yes, but this time is different…” the constable coughed. “He wrote a name with his own blood.”
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He used to admire Miles’ guts on seeing corpses daily and not being squeamish at all. The boss was a complete different story there, but Kent now as a DI, had to endure not spilling his guts right there on the crime scene. The foul smell of the insides rotting, the distinctive odor of the blood, all of that ended up making a riot inside his nostrils.
Dr. Llewellyn was arriving at the same time as Kent.
“Congratulations on your insignia,” she pulled him into a hug, “it is well deserved.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” He sighed looking at the corpse and cleared his throat. “Has Alice updated you?”
“Yes, she has.” She started to put on the plastic onesie. “We just need to confirm if he was killed with the same poison as the other one to link them. We might have a serial killer by the end of the day.”
“Apparently he has named the serial killer before, y’know…” Kent trailed off, zipping his onesie and putting the latex gloves
The scene was gruesome: the victim had been opened from the middle, letting the insides fall before his own body collapse a few inches from them. The blood had merged with the puddles on the cobblestone, the rain making it impossible to trace back anything. Alice, a handsome woman a bit younger than Kent, got up with her pad on hand to update the DI.
“Well, as you can see we need the lab to confirm our theories here.” She pointed at the nearest wall. “The small air conditioning from the third story saved some of the blood drops, perhaps they will be enough to recreate how he was attacked.”
“Do you have any idea of what kind of weapon we could be searching for?” Kent asked taking notes. “I know it could be a large butcher knife but… you never know.”
“Now that you mention it, boss.” She walked towards the body. “If you could get closer, can’t blame you if you don’t want to, you can see a pattern on the wound. This might be the result of using a chainsaw, something to be messy.” Kent nodded biting his lower lip.
“I see that the air conditioning saved half the name as well.” He commented on the shaky letters written with blood upon the wall. They read ‘ADY’.
“I wanted to save that for the end, yes.” Alice pointed with a UV lamp the wall. “The moss made it impossible for the stone to absorb the wall before the rain, or maybe it was raining when this happened, but all we have are those three letters. Sounds feminine.”
“He could’ve missed a ‘D’ to spell ‘Paddy’,” Kent added. “I don’t doubt a woman could do this but…” Alice pouted at his comment, Kent smiled shyly and went back to his notepad.
“We’ll run a database for names with those three letters, I’ll tell Ben to inform you about the blood splatters first thing in the morning.” Alice nodded to Kent and went back to her motorcycle: she reminded him of his younger years.