“Ring . . . Ring” screamed the phone. “Damn who co
This essay “Ring . . . Ring” screamed the phone. “Damn who co has a total of 2087 words and 9 pages.
“Ring . . . Ring” screamed the phone. “Damn who could that be . . . its almost seven a.m. on a Saturday . . . . hold on Allison it will only take a minute . . . Hello?” detective Pat said.
“ Hey sorry Sergeant McGurn but we need you to come down to the station as soon as possible . . . there’s more trouble over at Gibbons. Meet me there.”
“Hey sugar I have to go down to Gibbons there’s more trouble, do you need a ride someplace?” said the exasperated homicide detective.
“It’s always something with you Pat . . . every time I come over you either get called in or you’re so drunk that you can’t even remember who I am . . . It’s over Pat!” and then she left.
“Come on car . . . Please work . . . Just this once . . . There you go. No matter what anyone says your the best three tone Buick I’ve ever had.” See he was a real cheap skate, spent all his money on St. Ides and Old English 64oz.ers. He was always borrowing money too. He still owes me seven hundred ninety eight dollars and ninety five cents, plus tax. For a Harvard graduate he sure is a wash up. The only thing he could afford to drive was the car the police station gave him. It was a 1986 Buick with a green trunk, maroon body, and a navy blue hood. The thing took about three minutes to start and another five to warm up, and that was in the summer.
Ten minutes later he showed up at my desk. I could still smell her perfume on him. He looked terrible, like usual, man he was such a good guy, but he didn’t have a lucky bone in his body.
“So what’s up now Steve? . . . another vending machine robbery . . . more scuff marks?” Pat looked like a detective, you know what I mean, the way the detectives looked in those old movies. He had a bad suit on, with a tie loosened and hanging down and his shirt opened up, and he usually was sleeping at his desk with the light dimmed and his feet up. The hat he had on looked like it had really been worn by a detective out of an old movie, it was all dirty and had a fold like somebody sat on it.
“No not this time Pat . . . Its a little worse . . . there’s been a murder.”
Pat froze, then as calm as can be he sat down and said “Give me the who, what, when, and where’s about it. You know, the faster we get moving, the fresher the scent is.”
“Yeah I know you always say that . . . to bad it hardly ever works . . . we haven’t cracked a case since you got involved that Richter girl . . . she’s bad news . . . you should get rid of her as soon as possible.”
“Too late for that . . . right after you called she threw a fit and left . . . too bad I was just starting to like her . . . oh well lets get down to business”
“I don’t know how to break this to you Pat, but at six thirty Jim Collins phoned me at the station . . . he sounded very upset, never heard him talk like this before . . . and it didn’t really sound like him, he had to identify himself . . . he might even have been crying.”
“No way . . . not Jim.”
“Well it wasn’t Jim. I had Mrs. Page phone him, and he was home sleeping at six thirty, it was his day off.”
“That explains why you didn’t recognize him on the phone.”
“As I was saying, he said ‘Steve we need you to come as soon as you can, Mr. Chank and Mrs. Hartnett were found dead on the ground in room one.’ I asked if there was anything that looked funny to him, but just then I heard the fire alarm go off and the connection was lost.”
“That’s funny the
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