“Many would soon consider us men captive, captive by caste or fate, karma or luck… let us all reconsider the thought. Let us all breath for a moment. For us men are captive, not by caste, fate, karma or luck, but captive only in this world, by our own minds.
I can’t help but laugh at this thought, but all too unfortunate for most of us, the mind and the bodies are much like husband and wives, they never agree upon dying at the same time…
This I know too well.”

The selfish sky provided but a cloud clogged cluster of dim light over an already depressing drench of a city that was Passaic, New Jersey. Though the drizzle of righteous rain favorably fell from the heavens, the air was humid, almost throat grippingly humid as the morning sidewalk patrons could be seen loosening their neckties. The sidewalks were moist, and the foreheads were even moister with staggering sweat on this early August morning.

Dilly had been standing outside the depot for over an hour now, looking down at his wrist watch then up at the outdoor wall clock on the building closest to him, 7:47 a.m., his rendezvous was two minuets late. Restlessly reaching into his back pocket, Dilly grabs the dark handkerchief with his left hand, while simultaneously lifting his tan fedora from his head with his right hand and using the wrinkled rag to wipe sizzling sweat from his slightly forthcoming forehead.

Fortunate enough for him, considering his slight shortcoming, Dilly simply wasn’t a slouch in terms of physical appearance; he had been granted more than a handful of handsomeness. By no means was he a tower of tallness, but his strong, stout frame was accompanied with his fetching, well groomed face and light brown hair.

Painstakingly pacing now, Dilly had lit a cigarette, persistently puffing as he continued to wallow over the time on his watch. He was meeting a one:

“Mickey Rothenstel”
A punctual sounding person pointed out from behind,

Dilly turned to greet the young looking man with a satisfied smile and hopeful hand,
”Ahh, yah’ made it Mickey. I’m Dilly, Dilly Cousins…”
He proclaimed so naturally, taking Mickey’s hand and firmly shaking it,
”Hell, I thought you were neva’ gunna’ make it…”
Dilly added with a light laugh, tossing his cigarette to the ground and twisting his foot on the butt,

”You’ll have to excuse my absence sir, so many bridges and highways around here, guess it isn’t too uncommon for an outsider to get lost in this place. Jeez… New York is like an entirely different country.”
Mickey stated, looking around in awe of the vast cityscape that so tightly surrounded the two.

”Don’t mention it…”
Dilly spat in his oh so native sounding accent,
”Where is it they said you’re from again?”
He asked Mickey with an honest curiosity,

”Seattle…not too different, precipitationly speaking, just no fuckin’ heat wave like this.”
Mickey jokingly answered,

”Precipitationly? You must be my partna’”
Dilly responded, with the two sharing a short but steady laugh.

Dilly and Mickey were U.S. Federal Marshall’s, Mickey being much young and more of a new guy than Dilly of course. The two were part of a new detective branch just founded under the acronym ‘SIU’ for Special Investigative Unit, their assignment was to investigate and make any needed arrests in a case involving the recent assassination of a state governor in Kentucky. It was the first time ever that a Governor of a unionized state had been assassinated, and with a recent, but ongoing crime wave that was sweeping the State Capital, Frankfort, it was going to make for a very sticky situation.

The two began walking step by step toward the bus depot, their pretentiously polished, matching black dress shoes clicking on the pavement every step of the way. Even though Dilly wasn’t too tall, he still slightly stood over Mickey; Mickey being a guy who wasn’t exactly easy on the eyes, but a strong looking kid none the less.
Mickey’s clothing wore much more coordinately than his counterpart’s, a dark calf reaching coat that matched up with his black suit blazer and slacks. Dilly on the other hand sported a tan trench coat, which covered his white, short sleeve dress shirt that rested firmly tucked into his khaki slacks. The slacks, being hoisted up over his strong shoulders with a pair of black suspenders that in no way matched that terribly tacky green and pink tie that inhabited his neck.

”We’ll be hittin’ the 8:30 tah’ Lexington, non-stop route…”
Dilly loudly spoke over the ear ringing traffic and general bus-stop sounds, after looking down at his watch he spoke again, now turning his head from the ground and looking directly at Mickey as the two continued to walk,
”We should be arrivin’ in Lexington no lata’ than 9:30 p.m., we’ll be in Frankfort by 10:00.”

Mickey nodded his head, then looked up at Dilly who was again looking at the ground,
”So they tell me back home that this is a really odd case, maybe a poisoning?”
He asked as Dilly moved his head in a casual motion of curiosity,
”Maybe…”
he replied.