Free Witch by Tim O'Rourke Page A

died. Maybe they had come to have some kind of confrontation.
    With my police badge curled in my fist, I crept up behind the figure as it withdrew its hand from my letterbox, and crouched down to peer through the narrow opening and into my apartment.
    Taking a deep breath and standing behind the figure dressed all in black, I said, “Can I help you?”
    The figure jumped up and then wheeled around to face me.
    “Gee, you scared me half to death,” the young man said, his eyes wide and dark.
    “What do you think you are doing?” I snapped, staring at him. He was about my age, maybe a year or two older, but no more. He was clean-shaven with a nice face. He wasn’t what you would call handsome or even good-looking, but there was something. His nose looked as if perhaps it had been broken once or twice, but it gave him a kind of rugged look. His hair was black, cut short and as dark as his eyes. He was tall, perhaps six foot or more, and his build was lean.
    “I was trying to post this through your letterbox, but it looks kind of expensive and I didn’t want to break it,” the stranger said, holding out his hand. 
    I looked down to see that he was holding out my iPod. “Where did you find that?” I asked with a frown, taking it from him.
    “You left it at the station,” he said.
    “At the station?”
    “You know, the police station, where you work,” he said, with a smile.
    Eyeing him, I said, “So if I left it at the police station, how come you have it?”
    As if reading the confusion on my face, he said, “I’m sorry, let me explain. I’m Vincent – the new recruit. We haven’t met yet. I only arrived yesterday. Fresh out of the box as some might say.”  As he spoke, he unzipped his black coat to reveal his uniform underneath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    “No, that’s okay,” I sighed, feeling relieved that he was a fellow officer and not anyone connected to the dead members of that family.
    “Look, do you want to come in for a minute?” I said, not wanting to stand outside in the street in case any of the townsfolk wanted to enquire how I was doing now that the news was out.
    “A cup of tea would be great,” Vincent smiled, rubbing his hands together as if he were cold.
    “I didn’t say anything about tea,” I half-smiled back at him and opened the door. 
    I took off my coat and dropped it onto the sofa with the newspaper. I would read it once Vincent had gone. Taking my iPod, I slotted it into the dock and switched it on.
    “How about playing Ho Hey by The Lumineers ,” Vincent said, glancing about the living room. “I love that song.”
    “How do you know I have that track?” I asked.
    “I had a peek to see what kinda music you liked listening to,” he smiled.
    I glared back at him.
    “Sorry,” he shrugged with another innocent-looking smile playing on his lips.
    Despite feeling a bit put out that he had been nosing through my iPod, I put on the track he had suggested. The music started to play and I turned to discover Vincent had picked up a photograph which was in a frame on top of the TV.
    “She’s hot,” he said, looking down at the picture in his hands. 
    “Do you mind?” I said, snatching the picture from him and placing it back on top of the TV. “That happens to be my mother .”
    “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realise.”
    “You really are a nosey sod, aren’t you,” I said, hands on my hips.
    “Goes with the job, doesn’t it?” he said, dropping down onto the sofa, making himself comfortable.
    I stood glaring down at him.
    He looked up at me, and guessing that he’d pissed me off, he got up again and said, “I’m sorry. I’ll be on my way.”
    I watched him head for the door and I felt a little guilty. He was obviously new to the job and perhaps he was just trying to be friendly. He had brought my iPod back after all.
    “Do you want that cup of tea or not?” I said.
    “White with two sugars,” he said with a grin