Murder in the First - Day 3

If it had been any other time of day when I had walked in Ryan, the sound of him yelling in surprise and fear would have brought all the boys in blue to investigate why people were screaming in Rogers' office when he was elsewhere in the world.

But even at 2am, I wasn't so sure that Ryan screaming wouldn't cause the officers on duty to fly into a panic, find him and arrest him.

So I made sure that my hand was placed firmly over Ryan's mouth when I woke him up.

This seemed like a sensible precaution on the surface, however I had failed to take into account that Ryan had been woken up like this before by men with big guns and malicious intent. So his reaction to a hand over his mouth wasn't exactly normal.

In short, he bit me.

If it had been any other time of day when I had walked in on Ryan, the sound of him yelling in surprise and fear would have brought all the boys in blue to investigate why people were screaming in Rogers' office when he was elsewhere in the world.

But even at 2am, I wasn't so sure that Ryan screaming wouldn't cause the officers on duty to fly into a panic, find him and arrest him.

So I made sure that my hand was placed firmly over Ryan's mouth when I woke him up.

This seemed like a sensible precaution on the surface, however I had failed to take into account that Ryan had been woken up like this before by men with big guns and malicious intent. So his reaction to a hand over his mouth wasn't exactly normal.

In short - he bit me.

And unlike other people my reaction to this wasn't to grip my hand in pain but something slightly more, well violent.

I punched him in the side of the head.

It didn't take long for it to descend into a bit of a brawl, which given the amount of noise we were making, I'm surprised didn't have men pounding up the stairs to investigate.

As it was, it took all of five minutes for Ryan to wake up properly, realize it was me and not one of the seventy-five different people who currently wanted him dead and stop fighting me.

The argument could always be made that if I hadn't fought back then we wouldn't have been brawling for five minutes as he would have stopped and realized it was me much earlier, but then again I hadn't had the chance to fight anyone in a while and it is such a good workout.

Ryan sat down and I told him what Fred had asked me to do. Ryan laughed - a lot and then told me I should leave it alone.

This wasn't completely unexpected.

Ryan had never wanted to get me too involved with his problems. Yes, he'd go to Fred when it was something he thought his older brother could sweep under the carpet, but big things like this were things that he tried to keep us both at arm’s length over.

It took about an hour of us arguing in hushed voices for him to not agree at all to me investigating the murder and me saying in no uncertain terms that I was going to find out who was responsible for Sonya Lesner's death whether he wanted me to or not.

There is just something about the Barlow men that just make me want to tear my hair out at times. I think it is their stubborn, self-sacrificing attitude, but it could be something else.

However I knew that Ryan was safe, well hidden and that I could access the police records through Rogers' computer without too many issues when the moment came for that. But first I needed to investigate what had been left at the crime scene and who had been in the area. Most of the witness probably wouldn't talk to the police, but with a little persuasion would talk to me.

St. Patrick's Day

St. Patrick's Day seems to me to be less and less about celebrating the man who drove the snakes out of Ireland and more about people getting horrendously drunk in whiskey and Guinness.

Considering the excessive consumption of whiskey that I engage in, I'm not really in a position to comment on anyone getting drunk. Especially not when you consider the number of times that Fred has shown up at my place and found me passed out on the floor and had to put me to bed.

What I object to is the stereotype that seems to be cast on the Irish because of how people celebrate St. Patrick's Day, and not only that but the number of people who decide to tell the world that they are Irish because they have an ancestor fifty seven generations back who once visited Ireland for thirty one seconds.

Joe always puts on a bit of an Irish theme for St. Patrick's Day mainly because it's one of the biggest days of the year in terms of increasing his profit. I can't really fault him or other public house keepers or bar owners taking advantage of people wanting to get ridiculously drunk. They operate a business that exploits people's desire to drink like I exploit people's fears and paranoia.

If I want to go and drink at Joe's Place then I have to go early on in the day before most people start drinking - if it's a Saturday or a Sunday then I tend not to go anywhere near the place since people seem to be in there from the moment the doors open in force.

But luckily enough this year St. Patrick's Day fell on a Monday. This not only meant that most people were at work and the place was quiet, but I got to start off my week by spending most of my day in the pub.

Now there will be those amongst you that don't understand what the draw of spending all day in the pub is. Why on earth would someone want to spend so much time around alcohol with dim lighting and old decoration?

To those people I have said and will continue to say "Shut up, Fred." Yes, of all the people in the world to question my motivation for spending all day in the pub, Fred is always the first. Harry seems to understand it and well more often than not has a day off on St. Patrick's Day so is in the pub with me.

Harry says its jealousy but honestly, I think it's more because Fred doesn't like me drinking.

Now Fred is no teetotaler, he enjoys fine wine, strong spirits and ale like any other man of his class bracket. He doesn't really seem to have any problem with women drinking either. I say this because there is a group of men that seem to think that women need to have their alcohol content intake monitored more than men do. But Fred isn't one of their camp.

What Fred doesn't seem to like is watching me try and drink myself into a early grave. He does like to try and prolong my life for reasons that are completely beyond me. This includes keeping me out of gun battles and trying to get me to stop smoking because it will give me cancer.

Of course he still smokes when he is under pressure or undercover, so on that score he doesn't really have a leg to stand on. He still considers himself a non-smoker because it is only an occasional cigarette he indulges in rather than a consistent habit and he hasn't bought a packet of cigarettes in his life. In fact he only smokes when he is around me - so maybe trying to get me to quit smoking is less about me and more about him.

But even so, his trying to keep me alive extends to me not developing liver disease due to alcohol abuse. He keeps telling me that I should talk to someone about everything that has happened to me, that it would help me to get rid of some of my rage and demons and make my life better.

There possibly is a link between Kevin Metis, my family being murdered and my drinking, but then again I like drinking, I like spending time in the pub with Harry and I like the fact that when I do pass out on the floor of my office, Fred comes along, picks me up, puts me to bed and cradles me in his arms whilst I sleep.

St. Patrick's Day gives me an excuse to enjoy all of that earlier in the day before loud and obnoxious people invade and ruin it with drunken offers of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. 

Artistic Temperament

I have always thought the idea of having an artistic temperament is rather stupid.

The very idea of it seems to be designed to allow people who think they are more creative than others to behaviour in terrible ways and then to have it explained away by the phrase "artistic temperament" instead of it being labelled what it is...mardy childish fits.

I was set to thinking about this by Fred and Harry yesterday. The two of them decided that not only would it be a good idea to wake me up but that it would be an excellent idea to make me go shopping. Now waking me up is always a bit of a risk, the first time Harry tried to wake me up he ended up in hospital having two bullets dug out of his right shoulder...

...it's a good job that my aim isn't great when I'm drowsy...

...sleeping with a gun under my pillow has caused quite a few problems over the years...but this aside, I am generally in a bad mood when I wake up, well even more so than usual at least. Precautions are generally wise to take when waking me up.

Fred seems to have learned this lesson well, though being kicked in the crotch may have had a rather large impact on this. Harry still doesn't think he'll end up getting shot again, though there have been some close calls, as I said, my aim isn't really all that good when I am not fully awake.

Fred's way of waking me up has been to trap me in my duvet so I can't reach my gun and refuse to let me out until I have calmed down, of course what he and Harry are doing letting themselves into my apartment and office whilst I am asleep is quite another matter.

So they dragged me out shopping and as I was pulled away from the gunshop and towards the department stores where the two men were determined to make me buy something I could wear to all the charity events that they keep being invited to.

Why on earth they thought that I would want to dress up and go to dull charity events with them is beyond me, a room filled with people that I find boring and are so easily offended is about as much fun as being trapped in a box covered in honey and fire ants.

But it was this idea of making me attend charity events that got me to thinking about artistic temperament and that it is a way for overly sensitive people to justify why they constantly fly off the handle.

What I felt was a bit rich was when I told Harry about this and he told me that I was more hypocritical than most politicians as I was blessed with the most artistic temperament he has ever come across...I may have tasered him for that.

When he woke up in hospital a few hours later, I did apologize to him, not for using the taser on him as that was perfectly justified, what I did apologize for was the fact I'd tasered him right by the fireplace and he'd hit his head on the stone hearth when he fell and may have gotten concussion.

At least it'll teach him to say I have an artistic temperament.

Shrove Tuesday & Pancakes

Pancake day or Shrove Tuesday depending on your religious outlook on life has always been a day that is seemingly a day dedicated to gluttony.

My father and mother never celebrated that day at all, I'm not sure either of them knew how to cook and there wasn't a hob to cook them on in the apartment.

It wasn't until Fred and Harry took it upon themselves to include me in their lives or rather drag me kicking and screaming into their lives and traditions. Oddly enough though it wasn't Fred that had the idea to force feed me pancakes once a year, it was Harry.

Harry has only three motivations in life, women, money and food. How he gets hold of women is fairly obvious given how many of them swoon and fall at his feet when he merely throws a smile their way.

How he manages to eat all that he does without seemingly gaining weight is more of a mystery, but even more curious than that is where he gets the money to be able to afford his hideously overpriced apartment, the hot tub on the balcony and the very expensive clothing he walks around in.

Any time I've asked him about it, he has shrugged it off with some joking comment and even after I have tried to investigate him several times I am no closer to knowing where all his money comes from. Fred also doesn't talk about it, either because he doesn't know or he because he doesn't want to talk about.

Of his three motivations, the only one we can really share is his love of food, mostly because I don't swoon whenever he smiles and have no intention of ever doing so and I also don't have any money so unless I was robbing him blind, its not something we can bond over.

When it comes to food it doesn't make much difference to me what the food is as long as it keeps me alive and function in between cases and hospital visits. Harry sees food in a very different light. To him food is something that needs to be endured and great care needs to be taken over its preparation and production.

The first time I went round to Harry's to join him and Fred for pancakes on Shrove Tuesday I was a little bit astounded that not only did he have several mixers that he used to whisk up the pancake batter in and the number of different pans for cooking the pancakes in but also the fact he threw brandy in with them and fire came flying out of the pan was something I honestly didn't expect.

Though I will say this - as showy and faffy as they seemed to be, they didn't half taste good. Especially with the brandy.