On this, the final day of September (whaaaat?), let us write four lines of prose about: the crime scene.
Work went by pretty quickly this morning. Had a couple interesting phone calls while covering at Town Hall (a contractor hitting a water line while digging a hole was the definite highlight) and then I was done for the day.
And now, all of a sudden, it's the weekend.
Hoping to check out the Garlic Festival at Hester Creek tomorrow. Should be fun, as long as colds don't keep Miles or Kat from enjoying it.
(I'm somehow still avoiding catching their colds but I don't want to jinx it by talking about it)
The wind is picking up, making the police tape strung between the trees crinkle and flap. It's also dispersing the smell, so I'm not going to complain - even if it is making the chill in the air more piercing.
As I watch the techs examine the bodies I start to go through various possible motives in my head while I wait for them to give me the go ahead to get in there myself.
Money, sex, power, drugs, politics... it never fails to be one of those... not in this city anyway.