Letters from Ireland (Chapter 4, Fingerprints)

His mother walked into the room, a puzzled look etched upon her wrinkled features.
"What are you doing in here, boy?"
"I-- I..." My mind grasped for words to explain my situation.
"Whatever it was, I don't care. Come have some food." She motioned toward the kitchen.
Brian breathed a mental sight of relief, and followed his mother out of the perfume heavy room.

"Hey, Jacquelyn. I need a favor." He said, his voice urgent.
"What's up Brian?" The head forensics investigator of the Boston Police Department replied.
"I need something finger printed. A letter."
"Easy as pie. You wouldn't mind me asking, but what exactly is it for?" Her speech was thick with her Boston accent.
"Um... A case I'm working on. Confidential stuff, can't go into much further detail."
"Uh huh..." Jacquelyn could sense something was wrong. "Drop it by the office tomorrow. You know where I am."
"Thanks. I'll talk to you later."
"Wait, I was think--"
He had already hung up.

One Schroeder Plaza, Boston, Massachusetts, 11:45 AM
“Alright, I’m going to lunch.” Brian called to his superior, and close friend, Mark O’Toole.
“Don’t come back until you bring a girlfriend.” He called in response.
Something inside of Brian flared, and he rushed over to Mark’s desk.
“What are you, my Ma?” Brian hissed. “I’m freakin’ working on it. Get off my back.”
“Relax! Relax! I’m just jerkin’ your chain. Calm down, man. Have a good lunch.” Mark turned to his computer.
Brian sighed, and left the office.

Brian took the stairs to the fourth floor, where the forensics department was located. Brian knocked on Jacquelyn’s office door, but to no avail.
“You lookin’ for Jackie?” A deep voice behind him.
“Yeah, you know where she went?” Brian turned to the voice, his eyes settling upon a man at least six foot five, and weighing probably two hundred pounds.
The man didn’t answer the question.
“She told me to meet her here for lunch. I’m he--”
“He’s my boyfriend. Brian, meet Bruno. Bruno, meet Brian.” Jacquelyn’s voice was tense, as was the mood in that small hallway.
“Me and Bruno were going to lunch. What do-- Oh yeah! The letters you wanted fingerprinted.”
Brian took the paper out of his coat, his eyes fixated on the hulking mass of Bruno the entire time.
“You might have to check with the Garda Siochana of Ireland for an I.D.”
“Thanks for the tip. I’ll see you later, Brian.” Jacquelyn said.
“Nice meeting you, Bruno.” Brian stuck out his hand for him to shake.
Bruno looked at the hand with mild disgust, and reluctantly shook it.
Brian left silently.