ORIGINAL AUTHOR'S NOTE: A disclaimer, now. I mentioned at the start how this isn't so much a story, as a scenario based on many related events in an ongoing timeline spanning years of stories that haven't been written yet. ;_; As such, once the first part of this scenario was out of the way, I had no real clue how to continue, since other important events happen only after significant time lapses.
So...that's how it's going to be written. Of course more stuff happens after the previous part (maybe I'll allude to some of it in flashback), but this part picks up after a lengthy period of time has passed, and other parts may start out the same way. (Hopefully, the passage of time should be made clear in the text without me having to spell it out each time.)
Also, there are going to be some possible inconsistencies here with my "official" timeline. Det. Kristeva was first introduced in an unfinished novel, Four P, and all the parts posted so far coincide with that story. The main difference is that Four P starts out with the discovery of a crime, a plot point I couldn't introduce here without messing things up. The next novel, Blood Secrets (also unwritten), introduces Kristeva's partner, Det. Devetko, as well as describes the events leading to Kristeva ending up in anger-management therapy (which then leads to other discoveries I can't get into here).
I don't think all the details of the crime's role in things are revealed in Four P, so maybe the inconsistencies aren't as great as I fear, but still, for the sake of this scenario, the events of both novels are going to be mixed together. In effect, Four P and Blood Secrets have been combined/condensed for this writing. Other unfinished novels should meet the same fate as this goes on. The different book ideas always blur into each other in my head, anyway. :/
This part and a few more might be a bit more low key after the ending of the previous part, as a new scene is set, but with hope it should pick up again soon.
This story is convoluted, but it really does make sense, trust me. ;_;
Kristeva sat at his desk, tap-tap-tapping a pen against the surface and peering toward the blinds on Chief Bowen's office windows. They weren't closed, and he had a good view of the strange man talking with the chief at his desk. Serious faced, deferential demeanor toward the chief, nice suit. Obviously a detective like himself. He hadn't attended academy with him, so he had no clue who he was or what he was doing here, but judging by the way he glanced out of the office window toward Kristeva's desk once or twice, Kristeva was getting a pretty good idea.
He bit down a sigh and stood, stretching a cramp out of his leg, and went to the water cooler, just to give himself something to do. He wasn't officially on desk duty, but it sure felt like it. It also felt like he was being shunned as virtually nobody else would say more than a few words in passing to him, except for DelBora, and probably only because she was that way with everyone. He'd been getting this cold shoulder for the past couple of weeks--not out of any sense of spite, but because, he figured, everyone was just afraid to talk to him.
His face soured, then he blinked when he felt water rushing over his hand. He looked down, saw that he'd crushed the cup, and ended up tossing it away and getting a new one. He filled it, took a drink, glanced toward the office; no change; then returned to his desk. No sooner had he sat back down than the chief's door opened, and the strange man in the suit came out, shutting it behind him. He made a beeline for Kristeva's desk, and again Kristeva suppressed a sigh.
"Max Kristeva," he said when he reached him, halting nearby. He actually pronounced the name right on the first try.
Kristeva pulled open a desk drawer and started rifling around in it. "That's what I'm called."
He sensed a pause, rather than heard it. "Chance Devetko," the other man said, and when Kristeva looked up at him he held out his hand; Kristeva didn't take it, so after another, vaguely awkward pause, he withdrew it. "Apparently we're going to be partners."
A million different responses flitted through Kristeva's head; he settled on "Lovely," and resumed searching through the drawer.
After another pause, Devetko stepped around to the opposite desk and sat down. He seemed vaguely at a loss for what to do, but managed to hide this rather well, by looking over the vast difference between the two desks--his new one was barren and pristine, whereas Kristeva's was cluttered and chaotic. "I'm assuming we do more than just missing person cases, then--?"
"You assume right."
"Given that Chief Bowen mentioned something about finishing up paperwork for some sort of drug bust." Another pause. "And I assume that's why you're stuck on a desk right now."
"Not officially."
"And yet you've done fine without a partner saddling you down until just now."
Kristeva's mouth twitched. "You can quit dancing around if you want, you know. I've never been a big fan of the tango."
He located the folder he was looking for and slammed the drawer shut; when he turned and dropped it in the middle of his desk, he saw the other detective staring back at him, arms crossed.
"You shoved a suspect's head in a toilet," Devetko said.
"He was getting handsy with me."
"Last I knew, that wasn't an excuse to shove somebody's head in a toilet."
"Huh. Well, I guess that's why I'm in therapy, now."
"That was the other thing I wanted to bring up." Kristeva fought not to roll his eyes, failed, did so anyway. Devetko leaned over his desk, fingers locked, as if taking him into confidence. "Whatever this drama is that you have going on, it's not going to interfere with our work, is it?"
Kristeva leaned over his own desk and mimicked Devetko's posture. "Don't get handsy with me," he said with a saccharine smile, "and we should get along fantastically."
Well, there was one thing he could say about the new guy, and that was that he had an excellent poker face. The two of them maintained eye contact for a moment or so before Devetko sat back, then Kristeva followed suit. He shoved a few items aside, then slid the folder across the desk and onto Devetko's. Devetko frowned down at it before pulling it toward himself, albeit with what looked to be some reluctance, as if expecting something unpleasant to be hidden within. He opened it up, and his frown turned instead into a look of mild perplexity. He picked up what was within and turned it to face Kristeva--an old photograph of a man, woman, and little girl seated on porch steps, smiling at the camera--and gave Kristeva a vague questioning look.
"Congratulations," Kristeva said to the unasked question. "You've found our first case."
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