James Michael

I woke up the morning, bathed, poured my bowl of All Bran*, started the coffe maker and popped an aspirin for my arthritis. The morning was fairly normal despite my lack of excitement for the days work. I loved being a detective, but this case was hell, nobody at the station wanted it, and at my age I certainly could do without it. I willed myself to get into my cold car and drive to work. Today was important. The women I would be interviewing in less than two hours held the key to the death I was inspecting.