The police station buzzed with the white noise of justice in action. And the bored scribbling of paperwork in, if not action, then reluctant motion. The sound flooded the police captain’s office as the door swung open, and then returned to a dull mumbling as the door clicked shut.
‘You wanted to see me, captain,’ said Detective Bevan Shootout.
‘Take a seat,’ said the police captain.
Bevan did so. ‘Is this about the jazz litterer case? Because I’ve almost cracked it.’
‘In a way it is, yes. In a way it’s about all your cases. I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.’ (more…)