Hi All. This is a story with a twist. I conceived of the idea, years and years ago when my first Prince was a toddler. Finally I’ve written it now that Prince No. 4 has turned two. I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it. 

Domestic Abuse

It had been a long day. The Fling case still eluded him. He rubbed his furrowed temple. A beer would help. It always does. Gloria called him an alcoholic, for a couple of beers at the cafe. It wasn’t even a pub. She had no idea what he had to deal with everyday. This was a murder case with seemingly no motive on the husband’s part. A wife found dead in a bath tub. Seemingly drowned during an epileptic fit. She did have epilepsy but he felt a nagging tug at his detective sleeve. It was more than that. It’s not for nothing that a high percentage of murders take place within families. It always was the partner in his experience. He took another swig of his Castle. His eyes moved over the usual six o’clock cafe crowd. The businessmen loosening their designer ties after a tightly strung day. The women in their heels, transforming from tough women of the future to giggling girls over flirty, bubbly cocktails. Seeing people alive and laughing was a welcome change from the morgue.

His ears perked up as he heard the inane conversation next to him. There were two women, one who had come from the office in her neat red suit and tottering heels. ‘Killer Lady in RED,’ he thought to himself, almost humming to the tune that now assailed his mind. With her was a woman in jeans and a white buttoned blouse, a string of pearls hugged her neck in an attempt to dress up.

‘I had to get away. I would have murdered him if I stayed a minute longer.’

‘SHhhh, don’t say that.’

‘Well it’s true. You have no idea what it’s like. You sit in your neat office and have a secretary to boss around. I’m stuck with him all day. He just bosses me around. I’m completely pathetic. I just do everything he says.’

‘He’s not that bad.’ ‘Oh he’s all sweet when you’re around. He likes pretty women.’

‘Don’t make me blush.’

‘Ha, ha. You know it’s true. You won’t believe what he did yesterday he was so angry he took a swipe at me. Look.’

‘OOhh that’s no good.’

‘I’m putting scar repair. I pray it goes away. I can’t afford to look ugly. Not with all this weight to lose.’

‘You’re looking good.’

‘You’re flattering me. I haven’t had a good night sleep in months. He insists on getting into my bed and he just kicks, and kicks and kicks. I don’t know how much longer I can take it.’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘Yeah, so I just eat and eat and eat, because I’m just too tired to do anything else.’

 

Detective Brand looked up from his finished beer. He forgot to order his second.

 

‘Poor baby. Well forget about it all now. You’re out with me, and we’re going to celebrate your birthday in style.’

‘I don’t even feel like celebrating. I feel like such a wet, smelly dish cloth. I feel like a flower that’s been left in a vase for months and is rotting.’

‘It’s that bad hey.’

‘Completely. No one can imagine unless they’ve been through it. And there’s no way out. It’s not like I can abandon him. There’s nothing to do but hope he’ll grow out of it.’

‘I’m sure he will.’

‘I hope so. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.’

Detective Brand couldn’t hold himself back anymore. It was his duty, he couldn’t help it, though he knew it was breaking an ethical code of privacy. ‘Madam, sorry to interrupt, but let me introduce myself. My name is Detective Fredrick Brand of the SAPS homicide unit,’ he said officially pulling out his badge. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your troubles, and I can’t help but tell you that a voilent man never changes unless he undergoes serious intervention. I would advise you to leave him.’ He rummaged in his pocket for the card. ‘Here’s the number for battered women. They’ll protect you and advise you how to proceed. Often domestic violence results in death. Please don’t leave it.’

He stopped. The women were looking at him wide eyed, like he’d just told them they were grossly obese. Then they burst out laughing. Big, loud, belly laughs that had them doubled over. He looked at them quizzically.

‘Officer,’ the woman with the pearls said through her uncontrollable snorts. ‘I’m sorry, I think you’ve misunderstood. It’s not my husband who’s abusing me. It’s my two year old son.’

He didn’t bother correcting her. He was a detective. A serious detective cracking open the rotten murder eggs that plagued society. He left the Cafe. It’s time he began frequenting hard core bars with hard core liquor.