7th Precint, New Bath, Canada. Autumn.
Cold. So very cold. Rhiannon had yet to adjust to the climate in her new country and even the inbred toughness that came from being born and bred of the wet Welsh valleys had not prepared her for the biting cold here. It wasn't a wet cold or a windy cold, the kind she was used to and had built a resilience against. This was simply cold. A smile spread across her lips as she thought of her tad would doubtless tell her she had gone soft from her time in south England where it was warm and the people were all rich pansies, at least in his mind. Then he would pat her on the head and call her bach.
Shaking her head to clear the memory and taking a deep breath, she focused on her day ahead. Today was her first official day with this newly created homicide department and she needed to make as positive an impact as possible; she had been warned by the Captain that there were few women in the police force here, even fewer than back in Britain. Amongst the detectives there were even fewer; in fact they numbered in single digits across all departments here in New Bath. And then there was the matter of being an outside. Not that she was from outside but New Bath but she was a foreigner as well. The immigrant bashing wasn't so bad here and no one had thought to term her that seeing as she was a white Westerner but nevertheless that was what she was even if anti-immigration activists were more likely to target those of colour and quietly ignore those coming from English-speaking countries.
She pushed the car door open and instinctively winced as a biting cold wind hit her like a brick wall, removing all traces of warmth the car's heating had managed to pump out over the course of her twenty five minute drive to the precinct. The Welsh woman pushed herself out of the car seat, turning back inside to grab her satchel before shutting the door of her BMW M5, her pride and joy even if it was second hand, and signalling it to look as she hurried towards the old red-stone building and its promises of warmth.
"First day, Detective?" A patrolman wrapped up in heavy winter clothes at the door greeted her as she flashed her badge at him, turning to push the door open for her. "They're a good sort here, ma'am. Well, most of 'em. The Captain chose his people pretty carefully. There was a tone of interest as he attempted to see the reason for why she had been chosen but Rhiannon was more interested in getting in to the warmth than explaining her credentials, merely nodding and muttering her thanks as she stepped through the open door.
It was early and few were her yet, mostly patrolmen and women who looked like they had been working an overnight shift. Some looked up hopefully, expecting to see whoever was their relief but only saw a plain clothes detective and returned to their duties with a sigh without much interest in finding out who the stranger in their midst was. She had been let into the building so there was no need to challenge her, it seemed.
"Detective Jones. Good to finally meet you in person." A tall, broad shoulder man looking to be of Hispanic heritage with short black hair and five o'clock shadow, despite the early hour, strode towards her with a broad smile on his face, hand already out stretched despite the several metres between them as if he was powering up for a handshake. She recognised his voice, gentle but with a firm strength with the slight twang of someone who had never been to the country of their ancestors but had nevertheless picked up some of the accent from his parents and grandparents. She took his hand confidently, smiling back.
"Captain Guerra, a pleasure." She couldn't help but notice the different in their accents, even her Welsh dulcet tones sounding incredibly upper-class British compared to his accent, as broad as his shoulders with its softness presumably inherited from the soft 'th' featuring in many Spanish accents when pronouncing a 'z' or a 'c'. He shook her hand enthusiastically before gesturing at the precinct, old wooden floorboards with a fresh layer of varnish and new partitions made to look contemporary with dark wood and lamps attached to walls and ceilings like something out of a seventies' cop show.
"Welcome to your new home, Detective. Appreciate the character of this place, if you would. Truly, never before has such a place been chosen for the port which well send murders down the river." Again, that grin appeared. Rhiannon noted it was probably more noticeable because of the relative darkness of his skin and the pearly whiteness of his teeth. As he said, the precinct was not like the usual metal and glass functionalism she was used to in her previous posts; it had a certain 'old-school' character which seemed just in keeping with the slightly ebullient Captain who ran it.
"It's certainly got character, sir" She agreed as he guided through the maze of corridors. Through windows, those with their blinds up anyway, she saw conference rooms, offices, a couple of break rooms and a few others while she also noticed closed doors with frosted glass windows, gold lettering on the glass denoting their purpose: Morgue, Changing Room, Shower Room, Interrogation Room (of which there were four) and Interview Room.
"That one's when were inviting someone in for an interrogation but want to catch them off guard, see?" Captain Guerra explained, speaking of the Interview Room. Rhiannon nodded thoughtfully; most precincts had such a room but the Captain had gone out of his way to make this precinct's seem as harmless as possible when there was no case for bringing someone in for an interrogation. From her phone interview she had deduced he was a former homicide cop but this brief tour and the design of the precinct only cemented that theory.
"And this is your office." The Captain had arrived at a door, pushing it open to reveal six desks pushed against the walls of a large room, each with a computer, phone, lamp, paper tray and considerable spare room as well. There was a table in the centre set up on wheels with a projector and computer, the former currently pointed at wall which had a rolled white screen bolted to it. She had to admit, the set up was quite something and, she noticed, had privacy from outside.
"Murder cases are some of the most touchy subjects and I want my teams to have the privacy to do their jobs regardless of who the victim and potential suspects are. That is, of course, after they've checked in with me." Guerra said, still beaming. The undertone was clear: go about your job however you want but check with me first if it's someone important.
"I understand, sir. Who else is on the team? And who is the lead?" Rhiannon asked, acknowledging she had understood before moving the topic on to prevent any sticky subject areas to arise. Looking surprised, the Captain raised an eyebrow at her.
"Was it not clear, Detective? You are the lead. Informally, of course. You're the one with the most homicide experience on this team but the others are, mostly, longer-serving. Still, I think you'll be able to make a workable team. I hope so anyway, my reputation is riding on you people." With that he left, nodding his farewell and leaving Rhiannon to the empty room.
