Write, write and write, isn’t that what they say? Sometimes it’s enough to just be writing, whether it’s something you are doing for (hopefully) publication or just for the pure hell of it. I think this will be a for the hell of it story but never say never.
Open and shut, the boss said. Just show up, it’ll solve itself. You know how it is, just need the paperwork signed off on. Sure and it is always the easy ones that give you the most trouble, isn’t it? The address took him to one of those suburbs that hadn’t even existed thirty years ago. Urban sprawl, everything was just one big city these days. A few patrol cars were on the street in front of the house, the coroner’s van was either all ready gone or was on the way. He frowned up at the house, wondering why the captain wanted him here. Might as well get to it, dot the i’s and cross the t’s and sign it all and put it in the solved file.
Captain Harkness sat at the kitchen table, across the table from Sally, whose eyes were red and puffy from crying, a tissue twisted in her hands. “Glad you didn’t waste time getting here, Bob,” the captain said. “Was just having a talk with your lovely wife here.” Sally didn’t even look at him, biting back another sob, shoulders heaving.
“Why am I here, sir? I thought there was a case I was needed on.”
“Oh, there is, there is. And like I said, it’s pretty open and shut.”
Sally turned to look at him, face twisted with anger and fear and hate. “How could you? She was my mother!”
“What have you been telling her, sir?”
“Bob, I’ve been doing this long then you have been alive. I reckon I’ve seen every kind of murder there is and every kind of motive. Hell, I’ve even had a few wifes so I know why you might get frustrated and want to off an in law. But couldn’t you have put some effort into it?”
The patrol officers came up behind him, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. He bit his lip, calculating odds. Three men could possibly be handled but one of those men was Captain Harkness and the Captain had a reputation. There was no reason to think he was getting all that slow as he got older. Carefully, he slid the holster off his belt and laid the pistol on the table, the barrel pointed no where in particular.
“This is it, then?”
“Fraid so,” the captain said. “Woulda figured you’d know not to trust a junkie with a job like this. Those fuckers will roll over on their own mothers. Get him out of here boys.”