Romeo o' Romeo - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Silence is a trait very well known to the male portion of humanity. Unlike most of our sexual counterpart, we do not itch to open our mouths at the slightest hint of an argument or debate. We’d rather keep it shut, escape to our little thinking box and figure out a plan to solve the problem.  Sometimes it pays off, sometimes it doesn’t.

I was staring blankly into space, thinking about Romeo, the apartment, and the 3 letters that I’ve left back in the car. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn’t realize that I wasn’t even paying attention to whatever the obviously irritated looking woman sitting in front of me was saying.

“Marcus! Are you even listening?”

“Yes… of course.”

“And? So what do you think?”

Obviously I didn’t listen to whatever she was saying. All I can remember is that she had invites for a new South African themed cuisine in the outskirts of the city. The rest either missed my ear, or got lost in the Limbo (w/c is my thoughts right now).

“Well I think… I think I’ve never eaten South African food, and… I’m terribly excited to join you.”

“Really? Really Marcus? I’ve been blabbering here for about 10 minutes now and all you have to say is the answer to a question I’ve asked 30 minutes ago which you have already answered with a blank nod. Am I that boring to you that you doze off while I speak?”

Selena, a childhood friend of mine is a writer for a monthly lifestyle magazine.  A qualified bachelorette, architect, and co-owner of an upcoming Pizza deliver chain all in one lifetime. A successful woman is what other people would call her. I, would rather call her a friend. A friend who is obviously irritated at me right now for ignoring everything she’s been talking about the whole time.

“I am so sorry Selena. I didn’t mean to. It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about the case.  It’s kind of getting on my nerves how everyone seems to make unjustified presumptions; not to mention the pressure on the timeline. And I’m really sorry if I’ve been spacing out on you.”

“Oh Marcus… you are 32 years old, solved countless murder cases, has a degree in Criminology and Forensics and you still don’t know how to properly treat a lady on a lunch date.”

She had the tips of her fingers pressed on her forehead while repeatedly turning her cheeks from left to right. A classic sign of disappointment it seems to me.

“Date? Come on Selena. Last time I went out on a date was before I had my diploma framed and hung in my living room.  This isn’t a date. You forced me.”

I gave a mischievous smile before taking a sip of pineapple juice.  I am no stranger to Selena’s frequent flirting acts. It’s kind of a normal trait that she has. Often times she would flirt with me, or someone she meets in a bar or restaurant, or occasionally even exchange flirtatious remarks with random people.  Which of course doesn’t bother me since she always ends up paying the bill whenever we eat out. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a free-loader, but Selena and I both now that between me and her, I am the one who will most probably turn broke if I was the one picking the check for every meal we’ve eaten together.

“Ok! Fine! Rub it in you a-hole!”

She started to chuckle after saying those words, signalling that her mood shifted towards a lighter tone now.  I was about to drive to the Crime labs when Selena called me up insisting that we have an early lunch in some fancy restaurant near here office. I initially refused but she pleaded for my presence, saying that she really need my opinion on some important matter. Turned out she just wanted to have a companion/date on an event she’s been invited to.

“Hahaha! Don’t worry I’ll be there next weekend. I couldn’t let you go to that event alone, couldn’t I?”

“Thank you Marcus! So how is it going?”

“With what?”

“The case you just mentioned. I did hear it in the news earlier. Then I saw a couple of clips of the interview on the internet.”

“Oh… The case. Right. Well, everything that we have is still pretty inconclusive. Still nothing concrete.”

Selena has always shown interest in the cases that I’ve been handling. She once described the experience of listening to my stories to be similar to watching a suspense movie. Something that keeps her on her feet and thinking who the killer could be.

“So… what do you think Mr. Detective?”

“I think that it might take me a while to solve this.”

“Well I don’t think you have that time detective.”

She turned her smart phone so I could see a picture of an angry mob holding several placards and banners.

“What’s with that?”

“Read the title you dim wit.”

Justice also applies to us!

“Really? What do they understand about justice? This is disgusting. Really… All they want is a swift conclusion. Someone behind bars. Someone they can call a trophy.”

 “Well Mr. Gavin, I’m afraid that whether they understand justice or not is not for you to decide.  Can’t you recall the saying? Justice delayed-“

“But it is not delayed Selena. The crime happened today, it’s not even 24 hours yet.”

“It’s not about the time Marcus; it’s about what you said.”

I was surprised.  What could I have possibly said that made me accountable to this?

“Excuse me. Did I hear you right?”

“Yes you did Mr. Lousy date. Weren’t you the one who told them that there is no suspect yet?”

“I did, but that’s because that was the truth. We don’t have any suspects yet.”

“Come on Marcus, you know what I mean. You’re a smart guy.”

I brought my eye brows closer to each other while giving her a very stern look.

“Ok… What you did is an indirect admission that this case is likely to drag. There is no suspect and everything that you have does not point to any conclusive details. When you said those things, you did so with the intent to set expectations, which is perfectly fine if you were talking with your boss. But you weren’t. You were talking to everyone who was tuning in to the radio and television at that time. Everyone who is not so schooled in this subject as you are. Everyone who interpret things in the way that suits their personal self-interest.”

“But what would you have me do? I can’t lie and throw random names out there.”

“You don’t have to. You don’t get the point Marcus. You said something vague with the intent to protect your image, but that also happened to be in conflict with what they want.”

“Which is?”

“Justice. Swift Justice.”

I can’t say that I am enjoying this conversation. One of the things I hate the most is losing an argument where I’m supposed to be good at.  But Selena may have a point. I may have said something that may have caused this, but this is just too much.  They didn’t have to go out the streets and protest, let alone cry out for discrimination and injustice.

“Those two are different from one another Selena. In fact they are contradictory. Justice is a righteous penance given to a convict for the crimes that they have committed, and it is determined through a thorough and unbiased investigation.  Swift Justice on the other hand antagonizes the part where it says ‘thorough’.”

I did say that I hate losing. Right?

“So swift can’t be thorough?”

“No. Because swift is a hippy’s term for rush. And rushing puts your mind under a situation where it is highly vulnerable to pressure. Pressure that may and will lead to oversight.”

“But then, what good will justice do if it can’t be enjoyed?”

“It is not supposed to be enjoyed. You don’t get the point Selena. Justice isn’t some kind of balm you rub onto a sore spot.  It is a stick. A big bad-ass stick that you swing in the hopes that everyone witnessing it would become afraid enough to not commit the same stupidity.  You don’t hand Justice over to appease people, you do so to control people.”

She leaned back and paused for a bit.  Selena isn’t the losing type, her ego is as high as her stiletto heels, so I doubt that his argument will be over soon.

“Wow. I’m impressed Marcus. You really do know your craft.  But what you fail to see is that we are dealing with ordinary citizens here.  Those that your so called justice is trying to control.  Not to mention that the subject at hand deals with the 3^rd sex. A group that your 'Justice' seems to have cared for so little in the past.”

“Come on Selena. Don’t give me that crap.  Everyone is equal in the eyes of the law. Gay or straight, it won’t make any difference.”

“Really? Allan Turing was subjected to chemical castration in 1952.  Doesn’t that ring any bells?”

“That was in 1952 Selena. Homosexual acts were against the law in England at that time.”

“Well there’s your answer my dear.  The law has all sorts of clauses and phrases that favors heterosexuals.  Never was there an instance where it prohibited anything for it.  Can you say the same thing for homosexuals? Was there ever a law that favored them in such a way? No Marcus, there never was. It’s always just neutral or prohibitive.  Is that equality? No. This is modern day oppression and they have all the right in the world to go out to the streets and demand for something better. Because they do deserve better.”

I was speechless.  I had no other argument that could make a stronger point than what Selena just said.  But the law is the law.  No matter how you twist it, the law classifies people based on gender not sexuality.  The law sees Male as Male. Not as Gay or bisexual.

But while my stand stays firm, my chances of winning this argument just took a decisive blow.  There is no way I’m going to win this.

“Well this was nice talk. But I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this short. Duty calls.”

“Oh Marcus, don’t be a such a sore loser. But you’re right, it’s time to work for a living. I’m getting the bill… as always…”

Selena gestured for the bill and it was there in a fraction of a minute while I was busy fixing my things.  I stood up and stared at her.  Smart, beautiful, and elegant.  I feel like the dumbest man on earth for always rejecting her advances. I mean, look at her, so attractive in all the things that she does, even at the most subtle and simple things like how she holds the pen with her left hand to sign the credit card receipt.

“Your hands…”

“Are beautiful. I know.”

“No, your hand… I remember in grade school. The one you write with was always full of ink smears…”

“Yes, a pain that every young leftie will have to go through. Why the sudden interest?”

I’m so stupid. I should have thought of that the minute I got back to the apartment. How could I have missed such an important detail?

“Selena, I have to rush. I’m sorry. I’ll call you next week.”

I rushed to my car and pulled out my phone to call Phil while starting the engine.

“Phil, is Romeo’s body still in the crime labs?”

“Yes Marcus. Why?”

“Untouched?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Listen, have them take pictures of the following parts that I’ll text you in a bit. I want clear shots and I want them filed in the case records.”

“Ok Marcus.”

“Thanks. I’m already on my way there. See you.”

I put the phone away after sending the text to Phil. I felt a little bit of what one can call sense of accomplishment, something that made me feel proud of what I’ve just realized.  I may not be any closer to having a suspect than I was hours ago, but this could spell the difference between putting someone behind bars or not.