The Dark Secret of the CEO by Sofia de Orellana

“Agent Rivera! …Hey, Rivera!”

He turned around, glaring at the figure in the doorway. The woman chuckled.

“Oh, someone had a bad night.”

“Thirty hours awake in a bloody car with fucking Wright for nothing,” he grunted.

“Oh, that explains it,” the woman walked over to pat his shoulder. “What can I get you? Coffee?”

“I’m on my second already,” he sighed. “That and the cold shower helped… But thanks, Dolores. I just need to finish filing that damn report before twelve or the Chief’s going to give me hell.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it,” she scoffed. “Chief’s been talking to journalists all morning, he won’t remember your report until next week, Love.”

“What happened?” He asked with a sigh, stretching his neck. “Gunfight?”

“No, some poor chick committed suicide. Found dead in her hotel room. The case’s pretty clear, but she was some b-rate celebrity so we’ve got all the media covering it.”

He frowned, making the woman chuckle.

“You’ve really been out of the loop eh, hun? It’s all over the radio and TV. Look.”

She walked over to grab the abandoned remote on one of the desks, and switched channels from a soap opera to the news channel. The headline was large, and the journalists’ faces were a bit more stern than usual. The images were showing the front of the Four Seasons Hotel, that fancy place between Park Avenue and Madison Avenue, with a crowd gathered and the dramatic lights of police cars. He frowned. There were dozens of people gathered, and in the middle was indeed their boss, in his uniform, visibly holding an impromptu press conference.

“Look at him,” scoffed Dolores. “They dragged him out of bed at one in the morning to handle the journalists. Poor Rodney…”

He scoffed too, grabbing his half-empty cup to chug down the rest of that coffee. If he remembered well, their Chief of Department was supposed to be off today… Bad luck some famous chick had decided otherwise.

Suddenly, the image on the screen changed to a picture with a face on it. A face he had seen before. He didn’t even hear his cup fall on the desk, bounce and crash down on the floor. He stared at that face, and the name that was scrolling across the bottom of the screen. He slowly stood, in shock.

“Hey! …You alright, Flaco?”

He didn’t answer. No, he hadn’t even heard the question. He felt light-headed, his thoughts spinning. No, not her. He hadn’t even made the connection. He took the remote off Dolores’ hand, turned the sound up. The death had occured right before midnight, the legists had said. Found in her bathtub by her fiancé half an hour later. No witnesses. They showed the images of some young people, crying out as the body-shaped bag was taken out of the Hotel. A fan in tears was interviewed, still in a complete state of shock. So was he.

“…You alright?” Dolores asked gently. “…Were you a fan of hers or something?”

“…Or something,” he muttered.

but it was a… dead end. He was

thing? Bless her soul, the poor darling. I’m never fond of these celebrities, but she was hella young. Who knows what happens to them when they get so famous so young. Makes more

was… last night?”

All this time wasted, while she… He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from passing

on the case?” He

a suicide, Love. They’ll scrape the carpet just to make her fans and the

“No.”

tired face of his boss walking in. He ran, almost bumping into two

I want

of Department blinked a couple

What case? What are you doing here, shouldn’t you

Four Season Hotel. I

His Boss hesitated, confused.

gotten into you, but there’s no case. The Forensics are on it and we already watched three hours’

not,” he said. “I’m sure it isn’t, Boss. Please. Give me that

looked down on the coffee stain on

Rivera. Shouldn’t you have your

cold, Wright and I have gone nowhere for

and sat

I’ve never seen you like this? You’re an excellent detective, you wouldn’t take a

him. He remained of stone,

“…I want this case.”

The Chief sighed.

I can’t give you a case that does not exist, Rivera. Her family doesn’t even seem to care much either. The journalists are

suicide,” he

would

the morning nobody was listening. Only Dolores was standing a bit further, visibly concerned about her colleague. When their eyes met, she shrugged. He went back to the man

consider it. Alright? Now

coffee machine, just so he could have something else to do. The New York City Police

the anger building. Her yelling wasn’t helping. She kept shouting,

the station froze, turning their eyes to the frustrated cop. The Coffee Machine made a beep, and the