He stepped off the elevator and straight into Chief Armstrong. This must be someone really important to get him here this early.
“Good God Doyle! Look at you; did you sleep in your clothes? The Mayor is murdered and you show up looking like this; I want you to get in there and get a handle on this case. We need results.” He stepped into the elevator but stopped the doors from closing. He looked Doyle in the eyes and was about to say something, then he stepped back and let them shut.
I never slept in my suit. It was on the chair. The shirt was on the floor but the tie was hanging over the lampshade. Anyway since when did you have to be all GQ to be a homicide detective?
Doyle strolled into the bedroom. The forensic team was busy gathering evidence and the sexiest coroner in the Universe, Hope Jones, was bent over the body of the Mayor, who was lying on the floor, with a gaping hole at the back of his head. The wall and floor behind him was spattered with blood, bone and brains.
“You know, he wasn’t always like this.”
“I should hope not who would elect a mayor with half a brain. On the other hand…”
“Not him! The chief. He’s under a lot of stress, because his wife is cheating on him, and apparently not making any secret of the fact.”
I hope she is keeping some secrets.
