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The first stream of sunlight shone down through the young Hawkes’s bedroom window, illuminating a neat spread. Will was already up of course, his hair still damp from showering. The sheets on his plush bed were pulled tight, and he was dressed and prepared for the day. However, this morning his police uniform hung by his door, untouched and void of any wrinkles. It was an image of perfection to mirror expectation. The expectations that extended throughout his entire life, even on his precious day off. He gripped the door handle, glancing back at the flawlessly arranged room. The sight of the warm sun made him smile as he left his room.
The glow trailed him in the kitchen, and Will found it unusually charming. He glided back and forth in his kitchen, going so far as to twirl his spatula while preparing his omelet. It tasted so good he decided to make another one, and as he watched the egg rise and sizzle, he decided that today felt different. Grabbing the nearby spatula again, he smiled, an intriguing hope sparking within him. He swept his second omelet up onto his plate, the second display of onion and cheese folds representing as supporting evidence to this change.
He chewed with pleasure after sliding it down by his usual seat, outlining his itinerary as simply as his breakfast’s recipe. Read in his study. Have coffee. Walk to the market. Return from the market. Run over extra police files. Have lunch and tea. Read more in the study. Go have dinner with Father. Visit Mum. Play piano. And sleep. It was so simple and short he could write it on the back of his hand, but he didn’t need any help remembering it. He slowly lifted himself up out of his wooden seat, shuffling over to the sink and silently washing his dishes.
Later, in his study, Will examined the rows of books lining his shelves. The pads of his fingertips glided from one spine to another, but he couldn’t make up his mind. He continued looking, knowing his extensive collection of three floor to ceiling shelves would offer something of interest. At last, he paused, lifting his hand to delve into a smaller stash of literature hidden on the small shelf in his desk: the novels. He figured if today was a special day, he would permit a special book. Gripping a familiar worn down black and yellow cover, he pulled it out from the row. The smell of dust wafted into the air as it swirled upwards, a strange contrast to the ever-present smell of varnish and ink that lived in the spotless study. Will opened the copy of Monifer Note Mysteries. The sprawling scrawl of his mother stuck out from the title page, and he felt a pang of melancholy as he walked over to his chair. He turned the page. The sun caught it as he sat down in the warm rays, and he was showered with nostalgia. Then resting onto the cushions, he delved into the childhood favourite.
Hours later, with the finished mystery in hand, William emerged from his bubble of fictional adventure. It was late morning he realised, listening to the muffled noises of people outside his window. He blinked, letting the odd mix of drowsiness and excitement fade. Stretching, he turned his wrist around and checked his watch. 10:23. Fifty-three minutes late for his journey to the market. He sprung up like a jack-in-the box, jumping up from his hollow in the chair and racing to the foyer. Hastily yanking on his boots, his coat, and his hat, he swung the door open. The momentum nearly made him fall, and he wobbled on the spot for a second before retracting his arm with the door and shutting it behind him carefully. He chuckled to himself as he descended the front steps, he’d felt like Mr. Notes for a moment there. Always in a hurried jumble to solve a case. He dipped his hands into his deep pockets and retrieved his pair of leather gloves. With a small smile he tilted his hat downwards, pulling the gloves on dramatically. Then, humouring himself with one last thought, he strode towards the market to “investigate.”
To William’s relief, most of the vendors still had the items he needed. He stopped by the busiest stall first: Jubel’s Grains, and to his surprise, one of the employees had already set aside his favourite loaf. When he’d reluctantly asked for the brown rye, he was met with, “Ey, Mister William, I’ve got your loaf here already! Come over here!” Following the baker’s son to the backside of the stall, William graciously excepted his delicious Sourdough and Honey loaf. “Thank you, I’m sorry about being late. I—”
“No worries, sir, at this point you’ve practically got a standing order at 10:09 every week.” The boy chuckled, waving it off as he departed with more apologies and thanks. “Have a good one sir!”
“You too Levi!” William turned away from the bustling bakery and headed towards his next stop. He shouldn’t have been worried about being late after all. The enveloping scent of warm bread faded as he left the busy spot, and he smiled down at the brown bag in his hand. “That was nice of them.”, he muttered stepping into Tinney’s Dairy. One liter of milk, a dozen eggs, and a small cream later, he came back out and continued his typical market trail. Finally, after finishing at the coffee roaster’s, Will entered his usual produce stall. The owner, Mr. Willis greeted him immediately in a gruff tone, “Good morning, Master Hawkes. Late today I see.”
“Yes,” Will’s eyes swept over the tent’s wares, quickly assessing the produce, “I see you’re mostly sold out. Good for you!” The man shrugged, “I always sell out on Fridays. Jane came by earlier today as usual. You’ve gotten your produce?” Will stopped shuffling, straightening to answer the man sheepishly, “No, not yet. I was a bit preoccupied this morning.”
“Ah. You’ll need to go down to Barns’.” He pointed down the market, “He’s got okay produce that’s slightly better than the usual. Remember to come at the proper time next week.”
“Okay,” Will paused, still processing the strange reply, “Thank you Sir.” He lifted his loaded bags and walked down the row of stalls.
After seven minutes of searching, he regretted the choice to leave the produce until the end. The three bags in his arms were getting heavy now, and he definitely shouldn’t have listened to the farmer’s advice. He gazed at the signs as he walked, his eyes flicking back and forth as he continued to check each one. Kick’s Shoes, Jams and Juices from Louich, Ingenious Frames, Blue Cornered Cheese, Harlow’s Fruits and Veg… Smiling, he glanced at the huge display of plump watermelons. He could practically see Ladell marvelling at the pile and demanding the largest one. Will blinked. Wait. “Ladell?!”, he breathed, confused as he blinked again to check his vision. The blue-haired woman turned towards him fully, letting down her extended hand (that had been gesturing to the largest fruit).
Her eyes widened instantly, and she stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. He stepped forward, but she had snapped out her shock quicker than him. Kym grinned at him cheekily and waved. Then, slapping a paper bill into the stall owner’s palm, she snatched a watermelon, vaulting herself over the far counter with her free hand. “Come back here Ladell!!” Will raced forward jostling his groceries, as he ran haphazardly. It was too late. He spotted her beyond the market, racing through the neighbouring park towards the distant street. He smiled again, as he watched her figure launch itself over the park fence, rejoining with the patrol on the other side. Finally, he knew the answer to her apparating watermelons during patrol. Not that he’d ever actually stop her.
Once his amusing Sergeant was out of sight, William decided to finish off his market trip quickly, and get the remaining produce from “Harlow’s Fruits and Veg”. The man welcomed him in eagerly, proudly showing off his wares as soon as he entered the tarp covered station. Will began to decline politely, but the man interrupted. “Have you ever had a fresh garden carrot a day after it’s been pulled? Come on! Try it son!” Then, as Will opened his mouth to respond, he stuck the small carrot unceremoniously into his mouth. He beamed up at him, as Will closed down on the vegetable with a crunch. The man threw the leafy top aside, grinning, as Will chewed. His expression involuntarily broke into a soft smile as the sweet, flaky, and crispy carrot filled his mouth. “Good, eh?”
“How much?”
“A dollar a bunch, and…” The market seller turned around, grabbing a canvas bag and three bundles of the roots, “I’ll throw in this canvas bag for your arms too.” Will chuckled, relieved that he wouldn’t have to carry an extra paper bag up the market road, “Thank you. Do you mind if I put these here?”
“Not at all! What else do you need?” Will paused, refreshing his usual grocery list in his mind, “Well, if you have them, I’ll get…” As Will listed his items, the man rushed from counter to counter, packaging the exact amounts of each one, but as he finished, Will spoke up again, “Oh, and could you please add a pint of those strawberries?”
“Of course!” With a flourish the stall owner picked the last item, carefully placing the berries on top of his coffee and bread in his other bag. Will smiled, paying the man, and hauled the two loaded canvas bags onto his shoulders. Then, with the help of the farmer, he arranged his paper bags in order and headed back down the market.
Once the bustle of shoppers faded, Will’s mind began to wander. He wondered what his Sergeant was doing, and if anything had happened on patrol. Ha, he should be worried what she was doing to the patrol unit! He shook his head, but a moment later his thoughts rebounded to her again. What if she had read the Mr. Note mysteries too? He chuckled, imagining her in a detective’s coat sleuthing. Right, she’d already done that. he thought, frowning slightly as he recalled how she’d dragged him along as well. He crossed over the road, balancing his bags as he climbed up a few stairs afterwards. Kym would probably insist this was the wrong way.
Will readjusted his bags, as he continued down the pavement. He was starting to notice how tired his arms were getting. She would’ve grabbed as many of my bags as possible by now, he surmised, imagining her short arms clutching all his paper bags, while she commented yet again about how they were going the wrong way. Then, suddenly Will came to a halt. Discretely, he glanced from side to side and backtracked to the correct turn onto his street.
After clearing the corner, Will breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, none of his peering neighbours had seen that. Of course, leave it to Ladell to humiliate me even when she isn’t here. Then with a start of panic, his thoughts raced, Oh, no! What if she was messing up his desk space right now? He began to speed down the sidewalk, beelining it to his house just ahead. Hurriedly unlocking his door and disposing his groceries onto the kitchen counter, he rang the office. Lila’s soft voice wavered over the lines, “Hello, patrol office eleven here.”
“Hi, it’s Lieutenant Hawkes.”
“Oh! Sir, do you have anything to report? I’ll rewire you to Hermann right away.”
“No! Wait, I just called to ask a question.” Will twisted his finger around the line as he spoke, impatient to get an answer. “Yes, Sir?”
“Is Ladell messing up my desk?”
“No… Um, patrol just finished, she’s returned to filling out paperwork. Is everything all right Sir?” His finger froze and his cheeks flushed, “Yes, yes, sorry. I just wanted to check up on everyone. Is Randall smiling?”
“No Sir…”
“Good! I assume everything is under control then! I’ll see you tomorrow Deroses! Thank you.” Clunk.
“Uuuuugh.” William covered his face with his hand, letting it drag down his face, as he groaned. “Stupid, she’s in charge every Sunday. And nothing happens.” Turning away from the phone to put his food away, he sighed, nothing ever happens on Sunday .
William continued to silently put the groceries away like usual. He had a perfectly methodical process, meat, milk, cheese, produce... he lifted the strawberries out of the bag tentatively as if they’d explode on contact, placing them on the counter. He stared at them. Then in one quick movement, he popped one in his mouth. Instantly his lips melted into a smile; they were delicious. The sweet fructose flared his senses, and he took another, breaking out into a grin. Quickly, he raced about the kitchen stowing the rest of his shopping away. Flying in and out of his study, he grabbed a piece of his letter paper. He slapped it onto the counter with gusto beside the strawberries, as he slid onto a stool. Will's hands trembled as he clutched the fountain pen, but it didn’t matter as he scrawled wildly on the paper. When, amidst his combination of reckless writing and fruit snacking, he left a juicy fingerprint on the paper, his eyes widened. A mental cog paused as he stared at it, suddenly worried. He could almost feel his father’s deathly glare over his shoulder. Will let out a breath and chuckled (remembering this wasn’t an angst fic). He ran his hands from his hair and continued to write. This letter had nothing to do with his father, and he wouldn’t see it, and if he did… Will’s eyes flashed with an unfamiliar mischievousness; his father would never know it was from him.
At length, Will finished his project, folding up the ink covered paper. Instinctively, he went back into his study, pulling out one of his envelopes. He slid the paper into it snugly. Then, flipping it over, he swiftly pulled it back out. Will opened his drawer. He flipped through documents, sorted through textbooks, and even checked in his pen, pencil, stamp, and paperclip holdings. However, after a fruitless search through his entire desk, he looked back to the sheet. The ink faded through to the final cream-coloured fold. Even with its perfectly flattened and straight creases, the paper looked unlike anything he’d ever written. He thumbed the bare sheet off the desk. This letter would have to do without an envelope.
Will returned to the kitchen, the bright afternoon sun shining and refracting through the window. He glanced at the clock, 12:10, perfect . Briskly wielding his pen from the counter, Will addressed the outside fold in one swift movement. He slid it off the counter and took it in his hand, his coat in the other. Will rushed back into the foyer. Again, he turned out onto the street, this time going the opposite direction. His hair ruffled in the wind along with his coat, the fabric folds fighting with him. He buttoned it up, as he walked.
It took him ten minutes to get to the precinct. Then without a word, Will shoved the paper into the mail slot. He glanced up at his workplace for a moment, his mind swirling with a dozen thoughts, but set off quickly. No one could see him, especially not Ladell. He chuckled before he could hold it in, speed walking away from the police unit for cover. Two blocks down the road, he turned onto a side street, bubbling with laughter. He had just pranked Kym Ladell.
Will took a deep breath, sighing through a smile as his chuckled died down. His stomach growled lowly, reminding him of his abandoned plan of lunch and afternoon tea. He hummed, remapping his possibilities for the day. He had already missed reviewing police files and his lunch hour. He could go back and make it, or he could try somewhere nearby. Will stepped out from his makeshift hiding place between buildings. His eyes scanned the buildings, focusing on the small deli down the road. Its worn-down sign featured two appealing features: a sandwich and a steaming coffee. Will crossed the road.
Upon entry Will could practically taste the bread and cheese in the air. The deli was divided into two sections, a long sandwich bar counter and a corner for coffee and tea. Will’s appetite stifled his desire for caffeine, and he walked up to the first counter. The revealed sight of long sandwich breads and loaves made his mouth water. He rang the bell atop the glass. A young lady came striding out of the swinging door, sandwich in hand. She placed the half-eaten lunch on the back counter, “What can I do for you sir?”
“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting your lunch hour?” The lady grinned at him, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get your lunch done in a jiffy.” Will paused hesitantly, wondering what the appropriate response would be. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.”
“Yep!” She started washing her hands in the nearby sink, clearly set on the task, “What are you having?”
William’s eyes roved over the rough menu above, reformulating his choices. “I’d like the toasted brown seed slice please, with asiago cheese and turkey.” The woman set to work as he spoke, grabbing the loaf and slicing it with rapid strokes. The cheese soon followed with the cold turkey, and he continued his order, “For toppings, I’d like lettuce, tomatoes, and mayonnaise please.” The veggies were tossed on, and the large mayonnaise lid was spun off as the lady dipped the knife in. Will held his hand up, grimacing and quickly warning her, “Not too much please!”
“Good to know.” She said as she slid the access off. Will could hardly wait. He stepped over to pay, but her voice piped up again from behind the glass, “Would you like pepper?” She held up a small shaker. Will loved the suggestion.
The pepper tickled his senses as he bit into the completed sandwich. Will released a soft hum of satisfaction. His eyes searched to see if the woman was still at the counter. She’d already gone. He was glad he’d already thanked her. It was delicious.
Will had no problem finishing the sandwich, and when he returned home, he was full of energy. He sat by his desk, the warm sunlight pooling around him as he reveled in the late afternoon glow. He had accomplished his abominable deed of mischief and now, he was at a loss for what to do. However, after a minute or two of contemplation, he decided to recover his schedule, pulling out his extra police work. The pages whizzed by despite his restlessness, and after an hour he had come up with two solutions to improve the precinct. Will rolled his pen between his fingers. He’d have to pitch those ideas to Hermann tomorrow. Will leaned over his chair, letting his hair flop backwards. He’d closed his eyes to the evening light, willing time to stop. He desperately wanted to put off the day’s last events, if only to hold on to this unusual feeling.
The mini clock on his desk clicked to five. Will lifted off his chair.
The piano wasn’t a magnificent grand like his father’s, but his satin upright had served him just as well. He shut the door behind him as he approached the instrument. His hands twitched, ready with a myriad of melodies, but he chose none of them. Instead, his splayed hands jumbled over the keys, chasing an unnamed song. He missed the sharps, and awkwardly changed key too many times to count, but he kept going, playing his heart out to completion. He came out with a bang, slamming a dominant chord down and jumping up from the bench. It was time for dinner now.
It was like Stefan Hawkes could smell his lighter mood as he stared his son down. His icy eyes could’ve borne a hole through Will if he wasn’t already callused from it. He swallowed dryly. They hadn’t even spoken apart from their typical clipped greetings, but his father seemed to be trying harder to impose his coldness onto him. “William.”
“Yes father.” Stefan’s eyes flickered to their served food, then back up at him.
“How was your day.” He stated it firmly, removing the questioning manner. Will felt trapped as if a bubble had popped, and he was stuck out in the dark world again. He hopped his father wasn’t insinuating anything. If he’d gotten a sniff of what had happened today-- “It was great father, productive and pleasant as usual.”
“Good.” He paused, and Will hoped that maybe, just maybe, this week he didn’t have anything to critique. “No progress with Lune I assume?”
“No, unfortunately we haven’t had much to go off recently.”
Will shut the heavy wooden door behind him. Quietly, he stepped down the wide concrete entry, running his hands through his golden hair, ruffling it before the wind. It whipped past him in sharp cold gushes as he left the building's shelter. He swiftly moved to his car. It only took him a few minutes to get back to his house. After he cut the ignition, Will smoothed his hands on the steering wheel, his eyelids sliding shut. He didn’t want to do any planning or action for a moment. When he rose to look up, his house was bathed in eery moonlight. It was so unlike that morning. His eyes watched the sharp angles as the shadows crept over them. His eyes caught onto bright creamy white. There was a paper on his door.
Will pushed open his door, half jogging up to his front entry. He took a quick breath of chilly air, before focusing on the sheet pasted to the wood.
“Dear Mr. Michuffcins, (or however you spell it I forgot)
I can gladly inform you that I, excellent Sergeant Ladell, have received your letter and you have gained four exclusive secret badges “Responsible Citizen” “Fascinating Feedback” “Police Informer” and “Creepy old dude” (attached below), for writing and informing your local police. Thank you.
Anyway, in regard to your complaints and comments, I must inform you that a weight and mass of permitted watermelon on police property law does not exist and cannot be lowered or in any way adjusted. However, if you have any concern for a coffee limit, I may be able to grant you some peace of mind as I am working on that myself. I suggest three cups maximum.
I would also like to add, that despite your complaints, I am an excellent Sergeant. I could shoot you out in a crowd, but I won’t since you’re innocent until proven guilty. Even if I think you’re PS… But yeah, I do take my job seriously. I would go for Lieutenant too, but we already have a good one. Of course I don’t need to tell you that since you seem obsessed with him. I would suggest you stay away though, your infatuation won’t lead to anything good with him. Also! You should know that you need to stop “old person nosing around”/stalking. If you were wondering since you seem to know a disturbing amount of information about me and my Lieutenant. Hawkes won’t like it, and he’s possessive of his comrades. Watch out, he’s about half as good as I am with the gun. ;) And please keep those deprecating rumors about my directional skills and others private.
Best regards and lawful warnings,
Sergeant Ladell
Don’t respond to this letter.
P.S. I’m very concerned about the bloodstain on this sheet. Please report any criminal activity or otherwise suspicious actions you’ve been involved with. (Especially if it’s a fruit stain because that’s really concerning.)
Will plied the message off the wood, eyes glinting with amusement. He’d have to see about that last line tomorrow.