Unrepentaint. Impenitenti

"Miss..." , "Miss Westwood".

Made closer to the counter and took the stool next

to me. Puntellò the palms on the edges, along its flanks, and waved his legs in the air as a little girl. I moved, I observe it turning the head only. "But I prefer to Kerys".

"Well, miss Westwood". She's not for me to invite more attention, he held out his hand to grab the glass that I had previously left on the counter, and brought it to his lips.

He smirked supporting again the beer. "But it's soft".

"I drink while I work," was my justification. If something, anything had gone wrong, I would have put the entire

career. Not I was still willing to throw my life to the wind.

"What a bore!" he muttered. Accavallò legs, making

up the skirt of a few centimeters.

Then, with your elbows still resting on the counter,

leaned over the torso to her to allow my lips closer to his ear. She remained still, his arms folded against his chest.

Around us, students were grouped in different corners of the room, chatting to each other, they held company. Across the hall was immersed in a globe of disregard, and to me seemed to be almost sucked in by that environment, with her so close.

"I remember that we're at a memorial, not exactly the event the best that sbronzarsi" I pointed out, moving away.

"And it is, doctor. And you know why?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because death is a great trauma and drinking can help to overcome it". It was obvious that she was not there to overcome bereavement, the tone is ironic in his voice made it clear his state of mind.

"In most cases, the alcohol only causes more deaths, in a variety of ways". She didn't seem to care to my words, but turned on the stool, and moves the look on the accumulation of people around. "And death is not so easy to beat."

"Of course she does not know exactly how to have fun," I punzecchiò, a note of challenge gleamed in the veins of his irises of the ocean when he watched me from the corner of the eye.

I was then forced to clear my head the

throat. "Believe me, miss Westwood" the called, pretending to ignore the discomfort that the stiffened shoulders uncovered. "I know how to have fun, but alcohol is always a chaperon and never the protagonist".

She, however, was interested in our

conversation the other half, because the two guys that were on the platform and began to speak. I

difficult to notice that his attention would be dedicated in particular to the boy the more athletic of

with hair and brown eyes. So I went silent to observe the scene. I felt coming from her, a sort

I never lost a single expression of disdain that he adorned the face.

On the contrary, she was speechless, the rest of the room burst out laughing in a general murmur. It seemed that all had been on the lips a comment too, but it's impossible to hold back.

"This year... for the football team will not be the same thing,"

began the boy who seemed to be sympathetic to Kerys, turning to the crowd. Thus, he fell into silence. All were now on the alert, including the detective. "We have lost a component, which in recent years has given the maximum, a special boy who has always been kind and helpful with all of them. Alex for us was not only one of our best players, but also a good friend. The team will never be the same without him".

A short round of applause made its way into the room. Then he passed the microphone to a other guy, which turned out to be the lead singer of a band, started to play a song live in the memory of the boy.

It was in that moment, however, that I was called back by her. And there I realized not to be the only one out of place between the walls, between those young boys and full of life.

Perhaps it was because of how he lifted up his eyes to heaven, regardless of what I or any other person would have been able to see and judge. His contempt for the event and for those people was evident. But it was not only this, no, mixed well, but was always on the rest, as a shade that stands out on the other hues. It was tinted dark.

The son of the detective stepped forward to get her attention.

"Maybe it's better if we go to let us see together with the other", he proposed, raising his voice to be heard also in that crash. Hewitt seemed to keep very much to you, but the way that he ignored me and made me understand not to stay too cute.

"I do not want" said Kerys at the moment, but at that point, all it took was a occhiataccia on the part of a friend to persuade her to jump down from the stool.

As he followed him, walking among the crowd, Kerys turned towards me.

"Then... see you around." His wink caused a half -

smile in my lips.

The mind went to why I was there, my work. I wondered if the young Alex Moore had not been murdered by one of his companions. But who of them could have premeditated murder with a lot of attention? It could be, perhaps, recurrence, of the guilty of another crime that happened between those walls?

We did not have enough evidence to support this thesis. In truth, there had evidence to support any thesis.

So I stopped to observe the present, one by one. Trying to memorize their faces as the evening flowed. But it was difficult with that fox in the same room.

I wanted to lose an eye, miss Westwood, concentrate on, but I didn't. No matter how you mischiasse to the crowd, if the lights are lowered, or if there was always someone of his companions, who tried to talk to her. The call I would have arrived at a distance of light-years.

It was the hiss of a snake, strusciava slimy and up to my ear and desensibilizzava my every emotion.

I went then to the farneticare of Cavanough, his comments disparaging about some of the professors, and to his monologue about the lack of security of the university, that it would cost too much for what is offered. It was clear that his son could afford to use it only f few merit special, thanks to a scholarship, probably, but I did, however, laugh at the way in which, if he took it when she paid far less than many others.

However, that was a feeble semblance of a distraction. My gaze was invoked by Kerys Westwood at every little occasion, from that short skirt and the corset with straps low-cut, since that bow darn whoremonger on to her. But there was more, of course. The work, always.

A large part of the evening went on this swing. I had almost found a balance, if it had not been that the pop music that had been played up

that moment, he stopped and was soon replaced by another melody, a classic, no longer played by the band.

A student was sitting at the piano and began to move the hands with elegance.

While the first notes throbbed in the room, I went back on her, Kerys had started elbowing his way through the crowd and out. The instinct was the best.

I turned to the detective Cavanough, but he had already seen the scene and understood my intentions. "Just go, here is what I think". That was my opportunity.

Nodded and then jump down from the stool and follow the call of the physiological my sentence, his legs moved independently while