“Go!” Kasparov yelled, understanding Lofgren’s intentions.
Claudia got to her feet and pushed herself through the halls out toward the back door. Lofgren collapsed. He took a moment to rest as they listened carefully.
The sound of an explosion shook the building and Kasparov went to help Lofgren on to his feet. Claudia had made it to the back door and the trap had been set off. They made their way toward the sound with hopes that Claudia hadn’t made it out somehow.
“Think she survived?” Kasparov asked as they limped through the hall.
“Not a chance” Lofgren replied.
Kasparov stumbled under the weight of his partner sending both men to the ground. Pain seared though Kasparov with an intensity he didn’t think he could ever forget. He looked up and saw the light filtering in from the destroyed back door. It renewed his strength enough to push himself up and stumble out to the back. Claudia had survived the blast, but only just.
Her body was badly damaged by the pellets inside the grenade and it was clear that she wasn’t going to make it. The impact had cause large black bruises that seemed to be spreading. She tried to talk but blood filled her mouth causing her to choke. Kasparov watched as she suffered with her injuries and Lofgren managed to join him. She looked at the men with hate and fear as she spent her final moments unable to breathe for the blood in her throat.
Kasparov lit a cigarette and sat in front of Claudia. He looked deep in to her eyes trying to understand why she had done what she did. He could find no answers in those hateful globes. Soon any light in them faded. Claudia was dead and somehow they managed to survive. He extinguished his cigarette and helped Lofgren to the car.
“I don’t think I can be a cop anymore.” Kasparov confided in Lofgren once they were back in the vehicle.
“No, I suppose not.” Lofgren agreed. “What are you going to do?”
“I think I will open up an investigation firm.” Kasparov replied.
“Like cheating wives and husbands?” Lofgren questioned.
“A bit of that, maybe, but I want there to be a place you can go to when even the police can’t help. I could use someone like you, if you are willing to stay.” Kasparov answered.
“I guess I could do that.” Lofgren replied.
XVI.
It had been four months since Lofgren arrived in Landsford. Claudia had been taken down and her men were no more. The day was warm and he sat on the bench outside of Yearling Investigation Agency and waited for Kasparov to get back. He had gone out to pick up their new sign and had taken longer than expected. He impatiently tapped his foot and thought of better things he could be spending his time on. This only served to annoy him more.
Grace stood in the doorway fanning herself with some documents she had been working on. She was the receptionist at the agency and was one of the few additions to the office that both Lofgren and Kasparov agreed on. Her long blonde hair curled down her back as she let it out of the bun it had been twisted in to.
“We need to get the sign hooked up so we can turn the air back on. Why do we have to cut all the power? Can’t we just flip the fuse that leads to the front?” Grace asked as sweat rolled down her neck and disappeared in to her blue blouse.
“We could if we knew what fuse went to what. The electrician didn’t label anything and Kasparov was too busy talking to Randall to pay any attention.” Lofgren replied.
Grace went in and got a couple books from the shelves inside Lofgren’s office and brought them out. She handed him one that provided an in-depth analysis of popular Norwegian folklore and took the one about ghost sighting for herself.
“You don’t really believe in any of that supernatural stuff do you?” Lofgren asked her with a smile.
“I don’t know. I like to think there is some truth to it all. You hear about strange happenings all the time. I know usually it’s crazy people, but sometimes it’s nice to think that somewhere out there, things can be more wondrous than the constant monotony of everyday life experiences.” She replied.
Lofgren raised his eye brow and his false eye started to become dislodged; He quickly adjusted it. Having the prosthetic was taking some getting used to, and his right eye lids were still weak. It had been a long road to recovery for both him and Kasparov after the ordeal they had endured. He was a bit embarrassed by the false eye, but preferred it to the alternative. He had taken to wearing sunglasses most of the time to conceal it.
“It’s nice to think about wondrous things, but if they were real I’m sure they would be very dangerous. Can you imagine a creature that could shape shift? It could lay waste to an entire civilization and do so with the smallest effort.” Lofgren replied cynically. “A proper ghost could drive people to murder or do it itself. It would be carnage.”
“Don’t be so morbid.” Grace retorted. “Imagine meeting a mermaid, or going toe to toe with a dragon. You could even talk to a ghost from centuries ago about Norway. They could probably teach you more songs. I always hear you humming that same one when you think no one is looking.”
Lofgren was flattered she had been paying attention to him. He wondered if he was being too spiteful in light of recent events. The world was a wondrous place, full of possibilities. That should have comforted him, but it didn’t. Things are never that simple. He was about to make another comment when Kasparov pulled up in his new truck. It was a great improvement from the car that had been torched and Lofgren was no longer apprehensive when Kasparov drove them anywhere.
“Finally!” Grace yelled to Kasparov who was getting out of the truck. “I thought you’d been shot again, or something. Hurry and put the sign up so we can turn the electricity back on. It’s hell inside.”
“I had to make a stop on the way back.” Kasparov replied as he handed her a glass vase containing one red tulip. “Put this on the front desk for me, would you?”
“Sure thing, Boss.” She said taking the vase inside and admiring the flower.
“Took you long enough to get the sign.” Lofgren said with frustration.
“You’re just impatient. Help me with this thing. It’s heavy.” Kasparov replied.
The two men worked together to get the sign out of the back of the truck and up above the door. Lofgren took extra care to connect the wires as he had been instructed by the sign company. The last thing he wanted was to wire something wrong and break it. Between hospital bills, moving, fixing Marian’s mirror, and opening the agency, neither of the two could afford to waste the money.
Once in place, Lofgren and Kasparov stood back to admire what they had created. The agency had been open and licensed for a month, but the sign on the building made everything feel more real. He admired the lettering on the sign and the simple logo that they had constructed.
“Thank you.” Kasparov said quietly.
“For what?” Lofgren asked.
“Yearling.” Kasparov answered somberly.
“I don’t care what we are called as long as it is professional. When you asked to name the company I had my doubts, but I was never going to fight you on it.” Lofgren replied.
“Grace!” Kasparov yelled. “Turn on the fuses would you?”
“Finally!” She yelled from inside. Lofgren listened as her heels clacked against the tile of the front room and then fell silent as she reached the carpet deeper inside. In moments the lights were back on the sign came to life with a soft white glow. It was exactly what they had spent weeks designing and the look of pride was apparent on their faces. Grace joined the pair outside to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.
“Maybe now you two can stop arguing over how the office should be set up.” Grace laughed.
It was true, Lofgren thought as he walked inside. They had been battling one another since the project began. Grace had to mediate some decisions because both had ideas that were entirely different. Eventually they divided the office and planned separately, relying on Grace to make everything work together. The front room was hers to decorate and she
designed it with white walls and white tile. A large black desk sat at the back of the room. It was exceptionally clean and had only one painting on the wall that hung behind her desk and portrayed a mostly black and white image of a pale woman with short blonde hair and a blood red hat.
He looked at the flower on the desk. In the room of black and white, the red stood out in much the same way as the woman in the painting’s hat. Both of the items added a quiet intensity to their surroundings. Lofgren walked down the hall and in to his office.
Everything was organized and neat. He had several bookshelves that had been set on rails. Lofgren had so many books in his office that he required three rows of shelves to organize them, they stood in front of one another cutting in to the depth of the office and moved along a track to allow him to easily reach the books on shelves that were otherwise covered by other shelves.
Multiple filing cabinets lined the opposing wall and cut even more in to the small workspace. Lofgren’s desk was small but functional. He felt no need to maintain an impressive workspace and settled for efficiency and a wealth of resources. He sat and worked on paper work for about an hour before it was time to eat.
Lofgren made his way in to Kasparov’s office to invite him to lunch. His desk had already begun to overflow with paperwork and much of it appeared to have fallen to the floor. The filing cabinet he had given to his partner had been filled with cigarette cartons, bottles of liquor, and adult magazines. He had decorated the walls with photographs of his friends. Some of which were not entirely appropriate for business, but no one saw their offices but them. He decided to let it go. They had been bickering enough over the building and they were friends after all. He would bring it up another day.
“Missy called earlier. A bunch of the girls from Marian’s are grabbing lunch at the Mexican place that opened just up the road. I thought I’d ask if you wanted to go.” Lofgren said to Kasparov who had been smoking a cigarette and reviewing some surveillance footage. He had been working on a case involving some high value jewelry that had been stolen and could likely use the break.
“Randall just called and asked me the same thing. Must be a sign.” Kasparov replied. He grabbed his coat and made sure he had everything he needed. He realized he had misplaced his phone and began searching for it. “The damn thing is only a few months old. I hope I didn’t leave it at the sign shop.”
Lofgren watched as his partner dug through the filing cabinet to see if he had put it in when he got a fresh pack of cigarettes. He looked in his desk drawers and anywhere else he could think to look before going out to the front. Lofgren faintly heard him asking Grace to call the sign company to see if they had his phone. She laughed and told him she would call him first to see if he had lost it in the office and handed him her phone.0p A moment later another stack of papers slipped off the desk as the phone that had been underneath them vibrated.
“Hello.” Lofgren answered.
“Hello, I think you have my phone.” Kasparov replied.
“Yes.” Lofgren said dryly as he walked toward the front of the office.
“I’d like it back.” Kasparov requested. “I use the phone for work. Where can I pick it up?”
“I’ll bring it to you.” Lofgren said dryly.
“How do you know where to bring it?” Kasparov asked.
Lofgren walked in to the front room and handed Kasparov his phone. His partner’s face flushed red with embarrassment. Grace laughed as she watched Kasparov try to come up with something witty to say. He just shrugged and put his phone in his pocket. Lofgren laughed and walked out to his car.
“It’s been awhile now, since everything happened.” Kasparov started once they were in the car. “Do you think we are going to be caught? I have been up most nights wondering when my former co-workers will knock on my door to arrest me for what we did.”
“Don’t worry. I took care of things.” Lofgren replied. “I checked on things at the factory to make sure we weren’t under suspicion. As far as Claudia’s, it took a lot of time but I even managed to clear up most things there. I cleaned a lot of where we were and doctored most of the bodies to resemble the victims and I added them to the top of the piles. I hung one at the entrance. When I was done I dialed 911 from a phone I found inside and let emergency services find the rest. With Jared’s take down we got out of it pretty easily. I also bugged the police station so I have had an ear out for anything that could be troublesome.”
“Something about you has been on my mind for a while now.” Kasparov admitted.
“What is it?” Lofgren asked.
“The handmade tools, the way you handled the interrogation, how you killed so many people so easily and the necklaces that you took from the people you executed. Had you done that before?” Kasparov asked with apprehension as Lofgren pulled in to the restaurant parking lot.
“All I can really say, is it get easier. At first you think you are a monster anytime you see your refection. I did what I was ordered to do and I suppose I’ve become numb. The tools were designed for this case, the same with the weapons. I don’t necessarily like doing it, but I understand that to make the world safe for myself, I have to get my hands dirty sometimes. It was how I grew up and how I was trained. I’m sorry you had to see it first-hand” Lofgren explained.
“It just seems so cold to me. I can’t sleep most nights and even when I manage to drift off, I dream about the people who died.” Kasparov replied. “How do you shut it off?”
“You have to find that balance for yourself. I will warn you, it is a dangerous thing to shut off the way it makes you feel. It sounds like a good idea but it may be the only thing separating you from the monsters you fight. I may not be like Claudia and her men, but I’m no better” Lofgren said coldly.
“Are you saying that you are just as bad as they were?” Kasparov asked in disbelief.
“I never actually said I wasn’t.” Lofgren replied as he stepped out of the car. Kasparov followed him up to the restaurant to meet the girls from the club. They had been waiting to get a table until everyone had arrived. Inside happy chatter filled the air. For a moment it was as if nothing had ever happened. Lofgren looked at Kasparov who had begun to exchanging jokes with Randall. He looked back with a severity that Lofgren knew was from finally understanding what kind of a person he was, and accepting it without any further questions.
Table of Contents
Sanguine
Yearling Investigation Archives (Book 1): Sanguine Page 16
