ᗴ᙭ᑭᒪOՏIᐯᗴՏ|ᵗⁱᵐ ᵇʳᵃᵈᶠᵒʳᵈ

32| mᥱ𝗍ᥲm᥆r⍴һ᥆sіs

"So that's all you know? He showed you at our place and I just went with him?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Buck nodded into the phone. "I couldn't really hear everything you've talked about, but I do think he mentioned that you punched someone."

"You punched someone," Bobby's voice cut in through the phone. "Diana."

"I really wish I could tell you what time he was referring to," she mumbled, but continued before she could get an answer to that statement. "But that's it? You don't know what happened afterwards?"

Her roommate thought for a moment. "You had been drinking,"

"Duhh, idiot. If I hadn't been drinking, I wouldn't need you to tell me what went down that evening," she snapped as she watched her annoyed expression in the bathroom mirror.

"Okay, first, 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦. Second, I think there stood two empty bottles of wine on the counter when we returned, but I put them away before he saw them. And after your conversation I didn't hear anything else. I assumed he left alone, but in the morning I found you gone as well."

"Great, so neither of us know what happened," she concluded.

A bell began ringing on the other side of the line.

"That's us, we got work. See you later, Anna."

"Be careful," she called out, but the call was already ended. Sighing, she put her phone away, flushed the toilet and left the bathroom after washing her hands.

She walked into the living room and nodded at Charlie. "Dead guy's got a nice bathroom."

"Well, it's a thousand-dollar-the-night hotel room. The soap is probably handmade and imported Europe."

Diana glanced down at the packaged piece of soap she had found on a shelf and slid into her pocket. "France, apparently."

Charlie arched an eyebrow. "What, only one for you?"

The woman pulled out an identical piece of soap from a different pocket and tossed it towards him. "How could you ever doubt me like that?"

"My bad," he chuckled before glanciny back down at their murder victim. "We should thank him."

"Yeah," Diana breathed out, "I'll go talk to the hooker who found him."

"Have fun."
_

"Hey, I heard you arrested the manager of that pompous hotel on Kilmer Street. Is that right?"

Diana looked up from the scalding hot black coffee in her hands at the officer who just sat down next to her at the food truck.

"Yeah, killed this rich guest over some mutual love interest. I really thought this would be more interesting, but it all turned out to he a huge misunderstanding."

"Men," Angela scoffed, rolling her eyes.

The detective nodded. With her eyes casted down at her drink, she braved to ask: "Uhm, has Tim, by any chance, said something?"

"Tim?" Angela frowned. "What about? He's been in a killer mood the past few days."

Diana froze. "Killer mood?"

"In a good way, we're all really spooked, actually. Chen said she was allowed to drive his shop, like, sit behind the steering wheel. He's never allowed any of his boots to drive on patrol. Some he didn't even allow to drive their own car."

A thought struck her. "Didn't he have a date? But he said it went horrible. Chen's been sulking since she lost the bet." She scoffed. "It seems like there's no winning with him."