Lipstick Stain

C.E.O. AND BUSINESS MOGUL ANTHONY RICAFORTE DIED OF HEART ATTACK. The bold letters of the headline flashed on the TV screen as the image of the old businessman being wheeled in a stretcher gave emphasis to his death. On the sideline, reporters were caught with their own cameras and microphones trying to get hold of the old man's lawyers only to be pushed away for matters of privacy. Someone changed the channel and the plumped face of the businessman's wife focused on the screen. Babbling words of how the death of her husband was so sudden, it was almost killing her. The lady looked fake though; propped with a small-flowered cloth she kept wiping her invisible tears made it all seemed like an act in a low-budget soap opera. It was the kind of thing that lowers the level of news in the country, there were so many more important things for everyone to know. People say Jake only sees the thing from his own perspective and perhaps they were right. He was getting coffee from the pantry when the news over the television caught his attention. It showed how much life was a sucker. The old fucktard got the attention of the media because of money and power but the kid who got run by a drunk spoiled brat that morning was brushed aside, forgotten. Taking his eyes off the screen, dismissing the thought of coffee, he shook his head and traced his way back to his office. It was been a difficult morning, the constant traffic in freaking EDSA added to the boy dying in his arm made it more stressful than usual. Not that he wasn't used to the idea of death; the kid was just too young. He himself got a lot to explore in the world and he has been living in it for twenty-six long years. Imagine what been stolen from that poor child, he didn't even get to see his parents in his last breath and that is if he even got one. Most street children don't, the cruelty of life. Jake sighed. Cutting his thoughts amid, the phone rang. It was a drag to reach for the annoying piece of technology. He waited for another ring, then another and another until it completely stopped. He breathed out an air of relief; it was too early for something important, too soon for his head to process. Two years since he joined the bureau but he was still adjusting to its ways. He wasn't used to the noise, he hated working with others and human contacts unnerved him. Though, he didn't have the luxury to appear soft and weak-hearted. Jake was always expected to be the best in his unit, the one who could solve it all. He was glad about it but he was getting tired of the monotony of the past months, he wanted something big. Like those in movies he used to admire as a little boy, the ones who made him enter the academy in the first place and later on, the bureau. "Dude, Jake! Answer your phone! It's the director," shouted one of his colleagues over his office's door. He smiled cheaply, "Oh, yeah! I'm getting to it! My mind was just preoccupied." He waited for the door to click shut before he reached for his phone. The familiar tune of the vibrating device was seriously making his head hurt. If not for the matter of urgency and for the fact that the director was the one calling, he would have turned it off for the day but he got a responsibility and so he answered. "Director," he greeted the other line. "Jake, Jake! I've been calling you for the past hour!" The angry voice of the director shuddered him and his grip tightened over the phone. "I-um, I just got something on my mind," he reasoned out. "Then put whatever that is away! I need you to work on something, something important." "Okay, I am listening. " The mysterious tone of the director got Jake interested. The fingers on his free hand started tapping over the table, he was getting really excited. He was the kind of man who got a deep infatuation with solving puzzles, the harder the better. "You need to listen very carefully Jake, everything we are going to talk about here is strictly confidential, got it?" Jake nodded even though the director wouldn't see him, he felt eyes watching him "Don't I always?" Being discrete was one of the assets that made the old man trusted him with so many secrets; those that through time became dragging and almost overbearing. Politics was overrated in the country like everywhere else, Jake knew and accepted that once he entered, there was no more chance of backing out and he would be forever tainted. "Good. I'm setting you a line with Congressman Santiago." "Okay." The director's voice faded, a static sound came with it but not for too long. "Hello," greeted a raspy voice on the other line. "Hello." "Jake Salazar?" "Yes, congressman Santiago?" The conversation was getting boring, Jake wanted to start knowing the mystery. He was getting itchy, hands starting to shake and hives were appearing on his arms. He was like an addict and mysteries were his kind of drug. He needed it, he needed it then and there. "Have you seen the news? You got a TV nearby?" Jake's brows furrowed with the question, "Why? What's on the news?" "The news about Anthony Ricaforte, have you seen it? It was all over every station." "Yes, yes," he answered in understanding yet it still bugged him. The man died of a heart attack, that was what has been reported. His mind raced for possible explanations but only stuck to one... "The businessman who died of a heart attack?" "He didn't die of heart attack." The congressman's words thundered inside Jake's head. This is it, he whispered in his head. He was getting what he wanted, finally. "What then?" His voice came off rushing, he was rushing, he wanted the clock to strike six and let the congressman be done with it. "He was murdered." The train came so fast, it struck him hard that he almost toppled over. It was of course murder, what else would it be? "How sure are you?" Jake asked just for the pun of it. "Very, he wasn't the first victim Mr. Salazar, he was actually the third." Fear shot through the man's voice over the phone, he knew more than he was letting out and Jake wanted to find out what it was; mere curiosity more than the need of. A smile curved on Jake's face. "Okay, tell me everything I need to know about the murder." He was set on his game and no one could have stopped him. ...... Indigo. The color of the still darken horizon; a fine mixture of blue and violet. It was too early but Jake couldn't sleep, his mind wouldn't shut up and he got to do something about it or he would go batshit crazy. After a dozen crosswords and an unhealthy amount of coffee, he decided to seek answers. His right foot stepped on the gas and he drove off to his destination. The thin standard font of the time, 6:00 AM, was blinking over the blue light of Jake's wristwatch when he cut off his engine and parked the black overused car on the still darkened parking lot of Shangri-La. Jake walked quietly through the few people in the lobby and passed them without a word or so much as a glance. Though he was still in the same pair of pants and shirt, he carried his body with an air of confidence that would make anyone believe he belonged there with the posh elites. No one paid attention as he maneuvered his way. He jumped the second the elevator opened up and walked straight to room 113. There were no yellow tapes around the door; an indication that everything was kept quiet as what the director and the governor said. He eagerly swiped the key card he had stolen from the bell boy he encountered on the elevator. Stepping his feet inside the room, Jake felt alive. Weird it may seem but adrenaline pumped up into his streams the moment his eyes laid on the small red blot on the carpeted floor. Wearing gloves on each hand, he knelt down examining the dried blood. He smelled nothing suspicious about it other than the pungent smell of alcohol mixed with a day-old semen. He then stood up, surveying the entirety of the luscious suite. Everything shouts money from the hanging paintings on the wall to the bottled wines left on the table. The place was preserved just like what he instructed but he could not trust those stupid lawyers, they would do as much as hide precious evidence. "There has to be something," he whispered quietly to himself. Just something, anything. He walked into the center of the room and pictured the position of the businessman's dead body just like in the pictures sent by the congressman. Slumped on the sofa, a bit inclined on the right side, wearing only his boxers, and the rest of his clothing were scattered all over the place. His hands were positioned on the sides, he was left untouched by the unsub. Or it may seem but...something caught Jake's eyes. He reached for the single cigarette butt on the foot of the glass table just beside the empty bottles of wine. It was different from the many on the ashtray. Raising the piece of evidence in the air, he found something no one had noticed before. A red stain. He inched it closer to his nose and he sniffed. The familiar scent of nicotine hit his nostrils but there was something else in there. Cherry, like the one his last girlfriend loved to wear. The cigarette butt got traces of red lipstick on it. Fishing out a plastic zip-lock on his back pocket, he put away the evidence. Finally, his mind was getting contented enough so he could sleep. He dimmed the lights on the room and propped himself on the couch. Tomorrow, I'll definitely get you b***h, he whispered to his brain and he closed his eyes. Sleeping. ...... VOCABULARY: EDSA: Epifanio de los Santos Avenue, commonly referred to by its acronym EDSA, is a limited-access circumferential freeway around Manila, the capital of the Philippines. Shangril-La: Shangri-La Hotels and Resorts is a Hong Kong-based company. The five-star luxury lodgings of the chain can be found across Asia, the Middle East, Canada, Oceania, and Europe.