Joe’s phone vibrated and played an annoying tweeting noise just as he was about to take a bite from the big messy taco he held in his hand. Suddenly as if a switch flipped, the noise of the restaurant along with the phone began to grind on his nerves. What the hell, he thought to himself. When was the last time did he have a chance to sit down and grab a bite to eat? It had to have been years.
Joe yanked the phone from his pocket and placed it next to his ear, “Yes?!”
The voice on the other end responded it was James Wellington, his partner.
“Jesus, who pissed in your Cheerios?”
Realizing that his voice was curt, “I’m sorry. What do you need Jim?”
“No problem. We got a new case. 1342 Brundle Avenue. From what I am hearing, you’re going to need a baggie. We have hamburger.”
“Great… I’ll be there in about… 20 minutes.”
As he hung up his cell phone and slowly slid it back in his pocket, he thought to himself. Damn, another one. It looks like it is going to be another record year. Brundle Avenue… that was in Meridian Hills, home to some of the wealthiest residents of Marion county; not a typical neighborhood for a homicide.
Joe sighed and shook his head. Ten more years of this and he would be spending more time in Purgatory and enjoying his retirement and his new golf clubs. He has seen a lot in years as a member of Marion County Police Department. So much so, he could write a few mystery novels and still have material for a direct to DVD movie.
He stared down at his untouched taco. We have “hamburger.” Why did Jim say that? Joe grimaced as his stomach churned thinking about eating now along with the reservation that he is about to find out what “hamburger” means. Looks like it is going to have to be a doggie bag.