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I hate the fact that I've been inspired by recent events, but such is the existence of a writer; you take inspiration when and from whence it comes....

 

 

 

Prologue.

 

You were my sunset;

You were my every day;

You were my love;

You were waves at my shore;

And now you are  more.

 

You were my stars;

You were my silent gaze;

You were my whispers;

You were everything I adore;

And now you are no more.

 

You were my rock;

You were my everything;

You were my laughter;

 You were the smile I wore;

And now you are no more.

 

You are still my light;

You are still my heart;

You are still my eternity;

You are still my love's core;

And will be forever more.

 

Liam Oliver stepped away from the podium, and it took several moments for even the priest to regain his composure. With few exceptions, nearly every person in attendance at Alexandra's funeral struggled to find solace in Liam's words. It was heartfelt, original, and gripping. And to one, it was unmitigated bullshit.

"You've still got him for this, don't you?" Detective Frank Buonapane whispered to his partner where they stood in the back of the church.

"There's no doubt in my mind."

"You're a cold-hearted bitch, you know that Chas?"

Chastity Ambrose grinned. She'd been called worse. Besides, as callous as the thought was, especially in light of the poetic eulogy Oliver had just given, Detective Ambrose firmly believed that Alexandra Martin's death was no accident, and that Liam Oliver was to blame. She would prove it. He'd slip up. Something. Men like Liam Oliver disgusted her. In her ten years in police service, four as a detective, Ambrose had seen too many over-privileged, wealthy white boys like Oliver get away with, in some cases, literally murder. Not this time. This was her case, and Ambrose vowed that she wasn't going to witness another affluent punk go unpunished.

Ambrose and Buonapane shifted to the side as the services ended and watched as the nearly full chapel emptied into the vestibule to offer condolences to the family. No one paid the two detectives any attention except Richard Oliver, Liam's father.

"How dare you come here! Hasn't my son been through enough?"

"I'm sorry, I thought this was the Martin funeral. And it was the Martin family that asked us to be here. I think they've been through a lot more than your son."

"I'm talking to your superiors. This is an outrage! I am not going to be spoken to in this manner by a… woman."

"By a black woman, you mean. Go ahead and say it."

The elder Oliver glared and stormed out of the church. Buonapane chuckled.

"You just had to poke the bear, didn't you?"

Ambrose patted her partner on the shoulder. "You love me. Admit it – this job would be boring as hell if you didn't have me for a partner."

Frank Buonapane scoffed. "Sweetheart, I've had two bypass surgeries. Sometimes boring isn't a bad thing."

"Brother, have you got the wrong partner."

Buonapane shook his head. "Ain't that the truth," he mumbled as Detective Chasity Ambrose wandered out to offer her own condolences and assurances to the Martin family that Alexandra's death would not be just another crime statistic. She had no idea how difficult a promise that would be to fulfill.

To be continued….

 

© 2016 J.J. Goodman. All rights reserved.