Objects of Virtue

Chapter 03

Black seemed appropriate? Or was it white? He wasn't too sure so black it was. Louis swiftly donned a crisp black shirt and black pants. Black. Appropriate color choice – no doubt for the man who seemingly had no soul, he thought as he buttoned up his shirt. The black looked beautiful against his honeyed skin. Was jewelry appropriate when mourning, Louis pondered as he chose a simple pair of silver cufflinks for his vast and diverse collection. A tasteful L.T. engraved in the silver shone brightly against the black of his shirt cuff. He'd left a few buttons undone at the top, the cursive font of his tattoo showing as it sat prettily on his chest.

He chose a black coat that hung neatly on its hanger in his wardrobe, perfectly pressed and pristine. He had never in his thirty years, ever had to iron a single thing in his life, let alone do a load of laundry. His clothes always ended up washed, dried, pressed and hung up in his wardrobe, ready for him to use and continue the cycle. Glancing in the mirror he realized that there was little he could do about the red circled eyes and the unnatural paleness in his cheeks. He chose a pair of aviators, an unless attempt at disguising the situation – but he had to try. A quick run through his long auburn locks that naturally sat perfectly against his shoulders and even quicker spritz of perfume – and he was ready to go.

Grabbing the keys for his Porsche, Louis speed dials Liam, listening to the ringing until he picks up the call. "Good morning. Li. Just leaving home for Simon's. Do you think you could tag along mate? I'd really appreciate it."

"Lou, mate you know I will, I'll be ready in 15, pick me up."

"I owe you one, Li – don't know what I'd do without you to be honest – thanks mate. For – for everything." Louis replied his voice cracking with emotion he was trying so hard to keep in check.

"You know I've always got you Louis, you're my best mate."

"See you in 15 Li."

Louis quickly puts on his sunnies and he rushes through the front steps and down towards the garage. A single tear spills down his face and splatters on the gravel. He ignores it as he climbs into his car and starts the engine. It was just a tear. It meant nothing. Yet, it meant everything. Everything that he was trying so hard to push back, the responsibilities that were baring down on his young shoulders, the emotions that were tugging at him and slowly picking him apart – just a single tear, a summation of it all.

29th of May, 2021 – Hampstead, England.

For probably the first time in his 7 years in the forces, Harry had overslept. As he hastily locked up behind him, tie undone, shirt barely tucked in, his head of curls a colossal mess – he could hear his phone ringing from somewhere deep inside his satchel. Rummaging through the odds and ends that seemed to have found their ways into his bag, Harry managed to snatch his phone just as it stopped ringing. Cursing under his breath Harry saw that it was the one call that he had been waiting up for, for the better part of last night. The coroner's office. Quickly redialing the number, Harry listened in anticipation as the phone rang. One. Two and a click on Three. Rose's voice was crisp and courteous, "Good morning Harry. We've got those reports ready for you. Seems like your victim passed away due to cardiac arrest caused ultimately by – get this – acute cyanide poisoning."

"Thanks Rose, you're the best! Cyanide poisoning then? What can you tell me Rose?" Harry asked as he slide into his car, dumping his satchel on the passenger seat all whilst attempting to get his key into the ignition and balance his phone against his ear. To be sure, Harry wasn't the greatest at multitasking, but he tried. Finally getting the car to come to life and driving down into the morning traffic, Harry listened as Rose delved into a barrage of information, as she always did, some details seemed important, other not so much and Harry had to shift through the avalanche of facts that she was currently spewing if he was to keep anything in mind.