If she had been back in the city, those prints would've been lifted off the monkey wrench, sent back, and on her desk possibly twenty-four hours after it had been taken as evidence. Things were moving so slow that she thought about calling in on a favor to speed the process up.
Before Widdleton walked away from the desk, she took a glance toward her office window. She was making an attempt to check the weather. She wanted to see if it was still drizzling outside because the weatherman stated the drizzle would be on and off throughout the morning and would clear up toward the afternoon, and it was approaching the eleven-o'clock hour.
From a distance, Widdleton couldn't see if the drops were falling from the sky. The daylight obscured her vision. If it was the evening, she could look at the light from the lamppost, and the drizzle would be easier to see--that's if it was still drizzling but... Widdleton decided to use the glass. At that point, she knew it was just spittle. Spring was already in bloom, yet still, it was slightly cold and somewhat windy in the night. Although the sky was cloudy, the day didn't look too bad. It surely wasn't gloomy and depressing like the days of winter.
Widdleton grabbed her black trench coat from the coat stand behind her. She put it on, looked at the headgear for the rain, and decided against it. She would leave it now because unlike the really windy morning, it was somewhat okay to take the umbrella. It wouldn't blow away because she was just going from the building to the car, then into the shopping center, then and finally into the DA's office building. She knew the DA would offer her coffee, but to get her own would be more suitable and better tasting.
Widdleton wasn't sure if she had everything she needed. She looked around her office once and landed her eyes on her desk. She then remembered the keys to the department Caprice. She went inside the drawer and retrieved them and checked her pocket for her wallet. Satisfied with that, she touched her small waist and realized she didn't have her badge clipped on. She moved the papers around on her desk and located it, picked it up, and placed it on her waist; then picked up her pen and pocket note pad, placed them into her pocket, and with more satisfaction running through her, she headed for the office door.
She didn't have any serious qualms with anyone in the department--just a few words here and there with a few others about ethics over the time she been there; she had her jealous ones, but they rarely showed their hidden feelings. However, there was one she had a blatant argument with, who worked downstairs. But she wasn't heading downstairs just yet. She was going to stop by the forensic unit at the very end of the hall and ask about the fingerprints. She figured they wouldn't be back yet, but she couldn't be too sure.
As Widdleton made her way walking down the hall, she saw two other detectives moving about. The floor was generally quiet, but every now and again things would become a little bit noisy and movement would splash the halls with employees going and coming by the minute. It was mainly because a drug task force was placed on the floor around six months ago, but outside of that, everything was somewhat smooth.
When Widdleton arrive at the end of the long hall, she walked into the forensic office. Inside, she went up to the counter to speak to the secretary.
She said, "Janice, did the prints come back from the monkey wrench? I really need to put a move on the case. It's killing me with anticipation."
Janice had been reading through a file when Widdleton walked in. Noticing someone's appearance, she looked up and recognized it was Widdleton, and she raised a brow and smiled. She already knew what Widdleton was in the office for. Widdleton didn't have to ask. She had the reports back, but she hadn't had the time to call or put them in her mailbox or drop them off.
"You know, I received them this morning, maybe an hour ago. I was going to get them to you." Janice rose from her desk and went over to another desk. She went through a stack of folders with Widdleton's name on it. She took the folder from the pile and placed the rest of the folders back neatly on the desk. She turned around with a smile and walked toward the huge countertop. She said, "I'm sorry I couldn't get it to you when it came in today. I'm really busy over here. I hope everything you need is in there. I know the higher-ups are crawling down your neck about this. Truthfully, I'm not sure if I want to talk to you about this. I'm sure it's a bit much, right now. Man, I don't know what to say. Are you all right?" Janice raised her brow again on her small, chubby face. She wasn't fat, and with her little chubbiness, she was still attractive, and her polite and warm personality made people like her more.
Janice wasn't one of the people Widdleton had an issue with. She liked Janice because she was one of the people to show concern and do what she could to help, so Widdleton responded lightly. "Sure, I'm all right. I have to run down to the district attorney's office. The district attorney wants to talk with me about it. I guess I'll have to see what's what." It was Widdleton's turn to raise a brow. She was stating the chips will fall where they may.
Janice handed Widdleton the folder and gave her a brief smile to let her know she had her support if she needed anything. Janice then stood there and watched as Widdleton began leafing through the pages inside the folder.
"This looks good. Looks like somebody's on record. Hopefully, it's the killer, and I can get to the bottom of things." Widdleton looked up for a brief moment and back down at the folder. She focused on a guy's mug shot and his name. His name was Leroy Cramer. She then looked at his felony charge. It was an assault. "This'll do for now. Thanks, Janice."
"Sure. I'm here if you need me. Go get 'em." Janice smiled, and Widdleton sighed.
Tyrone Burgess
