Inspector Edmond Wojcik folded his newspaper, hiding it in the inside pocket of his coat. The everyday news was always the same: increasing violence, delinquency, failing economy, and scandals. Reading the press was like listening to urban legends. He knew or at least had heard of the places and people mentioned in the articles, but at the same time those stories were so unusual and horrific he couldn't believe they were true. And, in a way it made him feel fortunate that the Sarmatians shielded his town from the reality of that other, fantastic world described in the media.
He got out of his old Lada and gently closed the door. The vehicle had no automatic lock, so he had to close the car manually with a key. He double-checked the handle to make sure he had locked the car properly. The flaking paint on the roof reminded him to repaint the vehicle, but he never found the time for that. The on and off friction of the flashing light only worsened its state.
The policeman made enough money to afford a new, modern car, but he didn't want to. Wojcik inherited the Lada from his father, with whom he was very close. Besides, in all those years, the old timer had never let him down. If you take good care of things, things will take good care of you was his father's favourite thing to say and Wojcik couldn't agree more.
There were only two cars in the police station's parking lot: his and Harry's. Harry had to finish cleaning before opening, and Wojcik couldn't sleep more than six hours a night. That was why they were always the first two people to clock in early.
Wojcik had suffered from insomnia for many years, although there was nothing that bothered him, not in his personal life, nor careerwise. At least, that was what Edmond believed. Something always startled him out of his sleep in the middle of the night, be it a nightmare, nocturnal panic attacks, or sounds he thought he heard outside. Instead of reading a book or watching TV, he preferred to leave for work.
The Inspector walked in through the open doors of the police station and greeted Harry who was cleaning the entrance hall.
"Good morning, Sir," Harry replied.
The janitor was ten years older than Edmond, but he never addressed the policemen or anyone who worked for the office informally.
"How are you, Harry? How's your foot?" the Inspector informed as he shook Harry's hand.
The maintenance man was out for a week after he got in an accident on his bicycle. That June was unusually rainy, and the roads were slippery. Harry lost control of the wheel and toppled over into the ditch by the road. He fractured his right ankle while trying to break his fall. However, Harry informed his employer that he would return next week instead of waiting at home for recovery.
"Better, Sir. The cleaning is a little slow, but the painkillers are doing their job," the workaholic explained apologetically, trying to excuse his leisurely progress.
"Watch out, Harry! Don't overdo yourself or else I'll force you to leave and sit out your recovery! You weren't supposed to be here yet," Wojcik warned him sternly, but he was secretly happy the janitor was back because Harry's absence showed just how messy Wojcik's co-workers were.
Harry cleaned the restrooms and kitchen every day. Once a week on Monday he did the floors and took out the rubbish. They couldn't find a cleaner who was available for that period and since Harry promised to be back within a week they decided to wait for his return. In that one week their police station turned into a pigsty.
"I won't, Sir. I promise," Harry responded and got back to his duties as soon as Wojcik disappeared, turning around the corner of the second flight of stairs.
The solid wooden double door with glass panels stood ajar. Wojcik opened the door and felt a breeze with a hint of floral cleaner. Harry had cleaned the offices first and left the windows open to allow the summer air inside.
Wojcik walked to his desk and hung his coat on the back of his chair. He didn't expect to find any messages or new files on his desk as he was the last person to leave the building on Friday night, nevertheless he checked all envelopes and documents in the organisers to remind himself of the cases he had to focus on that week. But it was difficult, tiresome even, to think of other things than his new assistant he was about to meet that day.
Wojcik worked with Carl, the former Detective Sergeant, for a little more than ten years. They weren't really friends but since they were both new to the precinct back then, they found support in each other's company. Carl made it clear from the start that he hated his job, nonetheless he always showed up on time and did what Wojcik expected from him. Other than that Carl acted withdrawn and didn't care about other people's problems. Everyone knew not to turn to the Detective Sergeant with questions or other issues because he wouldn't occupy himself with those, leaving it all up to Wojcik. They often had fights about Carl's non-involvement, however Wojcik's reprimands weren't effective. The Inspector didn't want to fire him simply because he believed that a lack of enthusiasm wasn't good enough a reason to show someone the door. That continued for a decade until Carl decided to leave them and open his own fishing gear store.
Wojcik didn't think Carl was a bad person, but he was glad he had resigned and that he didn't have to kick him out himself.
They waited a long time for a replacement, but there were no candidates. Which was understandable, because no one wanted to move to the Sarmatians and work for its police force, even if it was in Resovia, the capital of the Sub Sarmatian administration. Young people weren't eager to dedicate their life to catching criminals and serving their country, especially if they were to work in a mountainous region where nothing ever happened, not to mention the specific mountain mentality of people who lived in those regions. Until one day Wojcik received a surprising phone call from Wroclaw, the capital of Lechia. The Wroclaw Chief of Police informed him that a young recruit had voluntarily asked for a transfer to the Sub Sarmatian police department.
His name was Ivan Farnicki, twenty-four years old. Graduated from the police academy with distinction. Came from a good family, had no girlfriend or wife and children. Worked in the Wroclaw police for over a year and had received a medal of valour for saving hostages in a terrorist attack. Why someone like Farnicki wanted to leave all of that behind and come work for them was beyond Wojcik's understanding. Regardless of the underlying reason for that decision, the Inspector would find it out.
Edmond rocked on his chair looking out of the open window, thinking of the forthcoming conversation with his new colleague. The sickly grey sky promised to burst any time soon. That Spring was extremely depressing and hard for Wojcik. Every morning, he woke up to rain and at night he couldn't fall asleep, listening to the dripping sound drumming on his roof. The beginning of Summer hadn't brought any good weather either.
The revving engine of a scooter disrupted Wojcik's inner monologue and drew his attention to a young man on a green moped driving into their parking lot. Wojcik figured it was a delivery boy. He wondered what message or package the young man had to deliver at such an early hour and patiently waited for Harry to call him from downstairs to inform him about the guest. But instead, the visitor found his way to the office and walked through the door unannounced.
"Inspector Wojcik?" the young man asked as he stopped in the middle of the room.
"That's me," for some reason Edmond felt nervous when he heard the young man say his name.
"I'm Ivan Farnicki, Sir."
Wojcik slightly rose up from his chair to shake his new colleague's hand as the latter walked towards his desk. The Inspector scanned the skinny teenager and couldn't believe he was the same person as in the file photo. Edmond recalled Farnicki in a police uniform, looking fit and healthy. However, the young man in jeans and white T-shirt holding a grey helmet under his arm didn't resemble the hero from Wroclaw Wojcik had read about.
Wojcik recognised the eyes from the photo, though. They were the same. Dark and piercing. But the new Detective Sergeant had lost considerable weight. Wojcik wasn't judgemental, or at least he didn't consider himself as such, however he couldn't help thinking that Farnicki suffered from a disease, which he believed was the only explanation for his altered appearance.
"I didn't expect you so early," Wojcik said to break the awkward silence.
"I wanted to meet you before work, to introduce myself and receive your instructions."
"That's praiseworthy. Were you also such a toiler in Wroclaw?" Wojcik asked Farnicki as he couldn't hide his scepticism.
"I just love my job, Sir," Farnicki replied, ignoring Wojcik's tone.
"You don't have to be here at the crack of dawn. My colleagues, and especially the Sergeant, must be well-rested when they come to work. Me being here so early is a personal issue. If I need you outside of the working hours, I'll contact you. Where are you staying by the way?"
"I'm renting a place in the Ram District, not far from here."
"Yes, I know where that is. Is that why you came on a scooter? Everyone has a car here. Even if their vehicle breaks down most prefer to walk to work," Wojcik looked out of the window to have another look at the funny green chopper parked under the tree.
"That's okay, Sir. I don't suffer from an inferiority complex," Farnicki replied dryly, which made Wojcik smile. The new Sergeant wasn't easy to bring out of balance, but he sensed that Ivan didn't like him making fun of his scooter.
"Why did you leave the capital?" the Inspector suddenly asked.
"I wanted a change of scenery and one day I saw you were looking for a new Sergeant and I applied," the young man said without hesitation.
Wojcik knew that that was a lie. Farnicki's reply sounded more like a rehearsed phrase he prepared in case someone would ask him why he moved to the Sarmatians. Wojcik decided to let the subject rest, but he knew he would come back to it later.
"Are you ready for work?" the Inspector asked Ivan as he studied his facial features.
"Yes, Sir!" exclaimed the new Sergeant.
Wojcik noticed how Farnicki's face brightened up as he realised his superior wasn't going to interrogate him further about his transfer. Edmond acted as if he didn't notice that.
"There's your desk," Wojcik pointed to an empty table by the window, right opposite of his workspace, "and here are some files I'd like you to read through. These are the cases we are going to work on this week. You're lucky, these are all about theft and one about vandalising municipal property. No murders or assaults," Wojcik handed over the folder.
Farnicki took the paperwork to his desk and enthusiastically began his research. Wojcik watched him leafing through the papers and introducing himself to the colleagues appearing one by one in the office.
Wojcik instantly liked him, but at the same time he was concerned with the new Sergeant. Ivan hadn't brought any food with him or a backpack with things he might need. The Inspector figured he would have to send him home at midday so that he would eat something.
Wojcik viewed the young man as a show-off trying to impress his superior and colleagues. There was the one extreme of Carl and the other extreme of someone like Farnicki. Nothing in between. Wojcik didn't like that. He preferred balanced people, those who chose temperance above passion and apathy. These people could carry out more than five enthusiasts, not to mention the same number of sloths. He'd rather have someone taking their time solving a case instead of jumping into erroneous conclusions that led to embarrassing situations, which in turn led to more time being wasted on setting those issues right.
Regardless of his concernment, Wojcik realised that he shouldn't judge Farnicki too hard and that his first impression could be the result of faulty assumptions.