(Based on the writing prompt: "People become human mood rings: they change colour along with their mood.")
“Stacy, you’re red again.”
“Am I?” She looked down at her deep crimson hands before throwing them back down onto her keyboard. “Bloody hell. Sorry, it’s this damn case. Driving me up the wall.”
I rolled my chair over beside her, sipping my morning coffee. Looking over her shoulder at her monitor, I nodded knowingly.
“The Cerulean Seven. Completely unrelated murders except for the fact that each victim was found a shade of blue. The colour of calm.”
“Name will have to change when an eight turns up.” The red seemed to darken, giving away her annoyance and stress.
“We’d better solve it before then, ay?” I clapped her on the back and wheeled my way over back to my desk. I noticed the tinge of yellowy-pink fade over my skin, an unclear mix of emotions that always seemed to plague me. I never thought of myself as emotionally complex, but I was one of the few people, at least in the office, who showed multiple colours. I always blamed the stress, or that I was new, or some other weak excuse. Truthfully, I had no idea. Everyone was stressed and it showed. It literally showed, you would glow red, so I couldn’t exactly lie and say I’m stressed when I’m half green with fetching shades of blue thrown in. I put down my coffee and rubbed my eyes, the sleep coming away with each rub.
“You look tired. Finding it too boring around here?” came a pompous voice from above me. Looking down was a purple skinned man, clean shaven and sharp browed.
“Morning Kevin.” I nodded towards him.
"Corporal. I believe we’ve had this discussion before, Detective.” Kevin adjusted his black tie, knowing full well it was already in perfect placement. “Now, results? What of your current case?”
“Well, Corporal,” I made sure to emphasise the rank, “We actually might have something. Detective Johnson reported that he might be able to bring in someone today. Relating to the case of course.”
“Johnson has a record for making arrests first followed by a distinct lack of questions. This is often followed by one of his superiors, i.e. me, making an apology to an unlawfully committed arrest. This better be something.” The purple darkened for a moment, before resuming his natural violet tones. To be honest it wasn’t actually natural, it was only that Corporal Kevin Packs was always in such a state of arrogant superiority that his colour rarely ever changed.
“Well, we wouldn’t want to interfere with your valuable time.” I smiled, folding my hands under my chin.
“You do realise that lying isn’t effective anymore. You are going green. And some sort of childish yellow.”
“Hey, I’m just happy! Happy to be working in such a friendly environment.”
The Corporal readied a retort before the station’s doors swung open and a green giant stomped in, dragging behind him a bearded, struggling and bright pink individual. My face lit up, Stacy’s red shifting to match the giant.
“Look what I’ve got here, boys and girls!” he boomed, pulling the pink man in front of him. “This suspicious individual has almost certain ties to our Cerulean Seven. Perhaps even... the culprit!” he shouted this last part directly at the man, who squirmed backwards.
“Easy, Johnson.” I stood up, hands outstretched. “I mean good job, but maybe we should save the interrogation for somewhere more suitable.”
Two grey officers took away the pink suspect, leading him away and out another door. Johnson dusted off his hands before wiping his sweaty brow, bits of his straggly blonde hair sticking to his forehead.
“Oof, not an easy one, ol’ pinky there.” He stomped towards me, nodding at Kevin, “Corporal.” He beamed at me. “Mcfoley. Pleased to see me?”
“How could you tell?” I pretended to hide my green face with my hands before mock-realising my hands were also green and acting surprised. He laughed up into the ceiling.
“Hey Johnson.” Stacy smiled at him, but her colour had faded to a faint pink.
“Don’t be nervous, this guy is the real deal, I promise.” Johnson gave a short glance to Kevin, who turned away and marched back to his own desk. “Well. Real enough.”
“Real enough is the best we’ve had in weeks.” I clapped Johnson on the back before gathering a few files. “Stacy, you want in on this?”
“However much I would love to, I’m no good at interrogating. I just get all angry. And red. And shouty. Doesn’t lead to anything.” She sighed, leaning on her cheek. “Did you know that I now colour coordinate my nails and makeup in preparation that I’m going to be red most of the day? Mood-Skin can go suck a-”
“It can do a lot of things, but not that.” I chuckled. “You have to admit, it has made the job a lot easier.”
“Until now. These bloody blue bodies are nightmare. People usually die orange, and the killers are a pretty pink. Sometimes purple or white if they are one of those kinds.” She shivered.
“Can be a bit troublesome with the whole social life thing.” I admitted, my green mixing with blue. It was calming being able to speak with friends about this, but more I was glad that the bright pink of fear was hidden under my shirt. Mood-Skin had changed a lot, and it was a scary prospect. All your emotions were now out there for everyone to see. One big plus was that it had eliminated racism is one fell-swoop, or at least the original form of racism. Unfortunately, it now meant that a new style of colour-based discrimination was growing. Why would you trust someone who was bright pink? What were they scared of? What are they hiding? People fear a lot of things. It could just be a bee buzzing too close. Maybe it’s an upcoming dentist’s appointment. Or it could be that you’ve just murdered someone. The colours were never too specific, often representing a broad range of emotions. Red was most closely associated with anger, but it had been proved to also be linked with passion and lust. This brought about a lot of difficulties between couples to say the least.
I snapped the thoughts out of my head and indicated towards Johnson to follow. As I passed by the various desks of my fellow co-workers, a door beside a large glass window opened up and a blue head popped out.
“Good morning Detective Mcfoley, Detective Johnson,” she said, her voice as calm as her skin indicated. Both me and Johnson stood to attention.
“Chief.” We said in unison. She smiled.
“I see you have brought in a witness?” She stepped out of her office, arms placed behind her straight back.
“Perhaps witness isn’t the best word,” said Johnson, “But I do believe they are closely linked to this case, Chief.”
The Chief slowly nodded, her face the picture of serenity. It was a mystery how she managed to keep her composure while overseeing the entire station. Her dark uniform complimented her azure skin, a colour that had remained solid throughout my entire time here. She wasn’t even that old, perhaps mid forties, though I was never a good judge of age. A child was anything under twelve, above that you were a teenager until you got that dead look in your eye which signified you were now an adult.
Almost as if she knew I was thinking about her age, the Chief raised an eyebrow towards me.
“Something on your mind?” she asked. I smiled nervously, a slight wash of pink creeping up from my neckline.
“No, ma’am. I’m just itching to get this case solved.”
“See that you do, I’m counting on you.” She turned and gracefully walked back into her office, closing the door silently behind her. Both me and Johnson exhaled, his green complexion now a light pink.
“I’m not sure to be scared of her or impressed,” he said.
"Why not both? C’mon, sort that pink out before we get in there.” I slapped him on the back before confidently walking over to the interrogation room door. “We’ve got a case to solve, and a colourful killer to catch.” I paused. "Try saying that five times fast." I winked at Johnson, before pulling open the door.