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: another mood to suppress

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Getting There

Insubstantial...how could he say that. All that evidence, and he says there is nothing to
hold him with? The Captain knows I'm right, but calls me off just so he can take Jack Danforth
to the Mayor himself. It's all for glory and there's nothing I can do but the job. He says
what to do, and I do. Same as always.

Okay, here it is, another crime scene, another disaster site. The Blues are here, waiting
for me to dazzle. Family are here also. They sob and question while the beat cops nod. It's
so ordinary; amazed that I see it. On the outside, I know what the inside will be: marble
flooring, Cherry wood accents, gold doorknobs, and crystal chandeliers. The victims, don't
really matter. There's an officer in the main hallway waiting on me, so I oblige, "No forced entry, no evidence of a struggle, and hardly any sign of physical cause?"

"Not exactly."

The officer looks at me like I'm crazy, so I give it right back at him, "Where's the body?"

Further in we go, into the freshness of an otherwise clean house; lilies I think. And
breakfast still on the air, strawberries and probably crepes. Drawn into the kitchen we are,
food still on a plate, nearly finished. The fork is not on the plate, but laying in the center
of the table. Apparantly, this is not a case for me, and suddenly get an ill
feeling. The officer points with his arm, behind the table, up against the corner of a support
column, what was really on the plate today.