Miracle on Main Street


  Rockford was relieved to escape the confines of the elevator – he’d never been comfortable with small spaces – but disappointed to leave empty handed. His lone footsteps echoed around the lobby as he made to leave, back to the station in the hopes that forensics had discovered something perhaps. The case had only been live for the last couple of days but he couldn’t help feeling the pressure to perform from on high – a case this high profile with such agonizing publicity – the God damn camera crews were there before he was for chrissake – it wasn’t hard to imagine all eyes on him. Bunting was big news – household name, practically – making the headlines every other week. Take any longer, he thought to himself, and they’ll pass it off to someone else. Someone bigger. He needed something. Anything.

  As he stepped onto Main street and into the cool air of the February evening his phone began to ring. It buzzed in his pocket like an angry wasp as he took some deep, cool breaths and collected himself for the likelihood it would be an angry superior on the other end. It was to Rockford’s surprise, then, that when he finally flipped his cell and answered the call it turned out to be good news.

  “Rockford, there’s been a development,” came Eno’s voice down the line. It was hard to gauge Eno at the best of times, his stoic disposition unfaltering, unwavering, in the face of most ‘developments’, but now it was positively electric.

  “What sort of development?” Rockford said, Eno’s new energy inducing a careful caution in the investigator.

  “It’s Bunting – or, not, I guess” Eno said, a little flustered, excited maybe. “She said – his wife, that is, well it’s not his wife-”

  “What? Eno what the hell are you talking about?”

  “This body,” he tried again, “The body from the elevator, it’s a negative on the ID – Rockford, it’s not Bunting.”


~ by Joseph Blame on January 27, 2011.

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