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Fool	By : Jadwin Category: S through Z > Sock Views: 1116 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Lynda

The Little Fool lead Tommy into the parlor and swung the front door shut. Tommy tried to dry his face with his hands as he sat down on the sofa. The Little Fool reached over to the end table and plucked a few facial tissues from the box. He handed them to Tommy and sat down next to him.
“Jesus christ, Tommy,” The Little Fool said. “What happened?”
“They…” Tommy started, unable to find the words he needed. “Lynda died on Thursday,” he choked out. “They found her outside her apartment.”
The Little Fool thought back, trying to remember who Lynda was.
“Lynda, your cousin?” he asked.
Tommy nodded. He tried to dry his face, but his eyes were still welled up with tears. “Thursday,” Tommy said. “And my son-of-a-bitching family didn’t even bother to tell me until this morning.”
The Little Fool put his arm around Tommy’s shoulders. He hated seeing his friend in such a state, and all he wanted to do was help. Once upon a time, they’d loved each other; a part of that had never really gone away. As he comforted Tommy, he began to think about how queer the coincidence that his neighbour was killed outside the building just the night before. He had begin to let his mind wander before he realized he was slipping back into cop mode. That place was dark and scary, and no place he wanted to visit any time soon.
The Little Fool held Tommy in his arms until his friend fell asleep. He picked Tommy up in his arms and carefully carried him back to the bedroom. As he swung the door open, he began to wish that he’d at least tried to make the bed. Shaking his head, he gently put Tommy down on the bed and kissed him on the forehead. The Little Fool looked down at the clock on his night stand; if he hurried, he might still be able to find a copy of the Sunday paper. He quickly pulled a pair of jeans over his bare ass and shoved a dirty T-shirt over his head before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. As he put his sneakers on, the Little Fool knew that he didn’t need the paper. He knew that he shouldn’t be getting involved again. But against his better judgment, he snatched up his keys from the hook on the wall and left the apartment.

‡ ‡ ‡

The Little Fool walked down to the closest Starbucks. There was one copy of the New York Post left on the paper rack, so the Little Fool quickly snatched it up. He took it to the counter and ordered a latte to go with it. The Sunday paper was beyond huge, and nothing the Little Fool wanted to drag back to his apartment. He took a seat on the sofa in the back of the coffee house and opened the paper to the obituaries, spreading the pages out in front of him. He found Lynda’s write-up, but Matzen hadn’t been mentioned yet. Nor had he been mentioned anywhere else in the paper, for that matter. The Little Fool quickly finished his latte and snatched up the small section from the paper, leaving the rest on the coffee table for whoever else wanted to read it.
The walk back to his apartment was rather short -- just a few blocks. As the sun set over the jagged horizon of tall sky scrapers, the air cooled. A feint hint of ocean salt hung lightly in the air, mixing nicely with the hot aroma of his latte. Rather than going straight to the front entrance, the Little Fool circled around to the back of the building. The small lot where Garret Matzen parked his car was taped off with yellow police ribbon. He stood still for a moment, looking over the scene. The Celica had been towed already; though the Little Fool was positive that the only DNA evidence the forensics lab rats would find would be the victim's. The longer he stood in the shadow of the city, the more the Little Fool realized that the killer hadn't just panicked and ran after attacking Matzen; he wanted the body to be found. He wouldn't have waited back here all night if he didn't have a full plan. This man -- and it was a man; profiling is only terrible because it works -- was a very calm, patient man. Even if Matzen had been on shift the night before, his stalker would have been down in the shadows hours before. Even people with schedules have random events pop up in their days that need to be tended to.
The Little Fool walked back around to the front of the building and climbed the old staircase to the third floor. No elevators for this bad whammer-jammer. For four-fifty a month, the Little Fool got what he paid for. As he slid his key into the tarnished dead bolt, he looked down the hall at Chuck. He was already changing old locks and adding new ones for the frightened tenants of his ancient building. The Little Fool knew that new locks were a waste of time. Whoever had set his sights on Matzen was done with this building. He had better fish to fry now.
The apartment was just a quiet as when the Little Fool left it to go to Starbucks. Tommy was still asleep. Careful to not make the door hinges creak, the Little Fool slowly opened the bedroom door and peeked in. Tommy hadn't even moved. The Little Fool shut the door again and went out to his computer desk. He spread the small section of newspaper open on the desk and looked for Lynda's write-up. Her last name was different than Tommy's, and he hadn't really looked at the small paragraph too closely before. He opened his internet browser and went to Google. Not sure if local stuff would show up on Google's news page, he typed in Lynda's name to the search bar and submitted his query. There were a few hits, but only one from Manhattan. It had to be a match. The article online didn't say much more than the newspaper, though it did mention that the police suspected that she was just another victim of a violent string of muggings. He followed the articles to the so-called muggings, but the internet reporters didn't seem to have any more information than just a few reported muggings that resulted in the death of the victim. Garret Matzen's death didn't feel like a random incident. If he had been mugged, he would have probably been second-degree murdered. The police still would have probably sent out little pink slips of paper to everyone in the building, but what mugger stood outside and waited for his victim to just come by. The lot where Matzen parked his car was out of the way for anyone. Who ever had first-degree murdered Matzen knew that he kept his car back there, and knew that he'd be going out that night. No one else parked their cars back there. Aside from the occasional kid looking for a place to get high, no one else really even went back there. It just looked like every other nasty dead-end alley from the street. Until you got all the way to the back, it was impossible to tell that the unpaved gap between the buildings curved around the back of the apartment building.
The Little Fool closed his browser, knowing it wouldn't tell him anything else about what had been going on. He stared at his desktop image, as though the Geiger-esq painting would tell him something new. B
ut the monster remained still and silent. It had nothing to say.
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