Snell, as usual, wasn't being too helpful in the details of the case. Tannehill decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in this case, though, because most of Snell's face and the back of his head had been severely displaced by a bullet.
"How are you so sure it's a bullet?" The patrolman scribbled some notes down and squinted at Tannehill.
Tannehill gaped back at him, "I assumed it wasn't a hit and run because the front door's still affixed."
"So let's run through this again," The patrolman continued scribbling unphased - or oblivious - "how did you come to discover your partner like this?"
"Well, I opened the door after returning from an investigation to drop off my equipment and," Tannehill spread his arms wide like a magician in a grand reveal "voila!" Only the affect of his voice betrayed his magician's showmanship.
The patrolman continued scribbling. "No, I mean, when did you find him and why did you come back to the office in the first place. It's a bit late for office work, no?" Oblivious. Definitely oblivious.
"Well," Tannehill rested a hand on the desk that didn't contain pieces of his partner's - former partner's - cheek on it, "I'm not in the habit of schlepping binoculars, a camera, and a loaded revolver around when I don't need to, and I only live a couple of blocks away, so it was a convenient enough stop."
The patrolman pointed at him with his pen, "you got a permit for the revolver?"
A full beat passed before Tannehill responded, "yes."
"I'll check on that paperwork in a bit. When did you find him?"
Tannehill briefly considered telling Patrolman Oblivious that he found Snell about three hours prior, but really needed to nail his lines for the community theater production of Othello. Prudence urged him to think better of the notion. "8:30. About 15 minutes ago."
"And then you called us."
"And then I called you."
"You don't seem too broken up about the whole ordeal."
"We weren't the closest of friends. Just business partners."
"Still, a scene like this would tend to unnerve just about anyone. I haven't seen too many."
Tannehill glanced over at the lettering on his door. Private Investigator still shone through as clear as day. He'd have to take off the Snell portion, though. Or not. Maybe he could start a side career writing penny dreadfuls - "The Ghost Detective Meets the Wolfman."
"How long have you been on the job?"
The patrolman glanced up and silently counted his fingers. "A little over a year."
"Uh-huh."
"Business partners or not, you gotta' feel something."
"To be honest, I'm a little disappointed that he died in my chair sitting at my desk. I'll be cleaning bits of brain out of my drawers for the next six months."
"You could always just switch desks."
Tannehill snapped his fingers and pointed at Patrolman Oblivious, "now that's an idea!"
At that moment, the door to the office opened and two detectives in rumpled brown suits entered the room. One of the detectives was a head taller than everyone else present. He glanced casually around at the mess in front of him and remained silent. The shorter one gnawed on a toothpick while staring at the nails on his left hand and emitting a brief sigh.
"Murph," Tannehill uttered toward the taller one and then turned back to the patrolman.
"CH," the taller one responded while still taking in the scene.
"We've got a gunshot victim, lieutenant," the patrolman chimed in while reviewing his notes. The three other men in the room briefly pursed their lips at his statement.
"Looks that way, O'Malley." Lieutenant Murphy's gaze didn't change. He continued looking around.
"I haven't had a chance to question Mr. Tannehill about his whereabouts, yet."
"That's OK, O'Malley, we can do it now. Where have you been all night CH?"
"Downtown. I was working a case and eating the world's second-best egg sandwich. I can get two of the most scholarly doormen in history to vouch for my timeline."
"I don't think that's necessary, CH. If I've got burning questions on Don Quixote or Hamlet, I may come calling, but I think we're good for now."
"I don't know, lieutenant," the shorter one leveled his gaze at Tannehill, "I don't think we can rule Tannehill out as a suspect, yet. We all know how good he is with a gun. Can hit a small child at 20 paces."
Murphy stopped gazing around the room and turned toward his partner. "Cram it, Novak." Novak smirked and resumed surveying his nails.
"Say, CH," Murphy took a step closer to Tannehill, "how about we head out to the diner around the corner and you tell me your version of events. O'Malley and Novak can stay here and keep the scene secure until the coroner arrives. That sound good to you Novak?"
Novak, head still down, nodded in agreement. O'Malley continued checking his notes and moving his lips.
Tannehill and Murphy settled into The Happy Hour Diner, a place Tannehill had more than a passing acquaintance with. Though the egg sandwiches here were definitely not listed among the world's best, the corresponding price was at least indicative of their status.
Tannehill and Murphy settled into a booth and a waitress - one Tannehill hadn't seen before - appeared from behind the counter to greet them.
"Can I get you something?"
"Two coffees, black," Murphy responded.
"Decaf or regular?"
"Regular."
"That's going to keep you up all night."
"I wasn't planning on sleeping much tonight anyway," Tannehill chimed in. The waitress shrugged and turned back toward the counter.
"Novak just can't lay off, can he?"
"You know how he is, CH. Even among the hardened cynical bunch that is Capital City's Finest, he's nobility."
"Uh-huh. Or just a garden variety sadist."
"Let it go. What's happened has happened, however unfortunate. And now, we're living the lives we've accepted for ourselves, so I don't think there's any point in dwelling on the past. And, however much he may deserve it, you still can't touch him. He's a cop."
"Huh. Don't dwell on it. Easy for you to say."
"Yes, I suppose it is. So maybe we can dwell a bit later, but for now, there's the current matter."
"Yeah, The Case of the Man Without a Face."
"So, what happened?" The waitress stopped by the booth, handed the men their coffee and retreated behind the counter again.
"I walked into the office and found an unseemly sight."
Murphy sighed. "Yes, I obviously understand the rhetorical points, Tannehill. What are your thoughts on why it happened though?"
"That's just it, Murph. It could've happened about 100 ways if we consider all of the angles. Snell obviously wanted me out of the office, but I just chalked it up to some petty grift or some fling that was imminently approaching. He was never one to do everything above board, but he was smart enough to know where the limits were. His cons were small enough that no one would be inclined to do more than throw a well-placed punch. The husbands he humiliated could always be easily intimidated into silence."
"Do you think one finally crossed the line here?"
"Nah. The scene in my office doesn't seem to fit the scenario. If it were some angry husband, the room would be in disarray from some sort of physical altercation. This was just Snell leaning back in a chair with a bullet between the eyes."
"You said he wanted you out of the office. How's that?"
"He gave me an address downtown and told me it was a lead worth pursuing. I've grown into the habit of not asking why me and not you too closely."
"Do you think that job might have something to do with it?"
Tannehill shrugged and slurped his coffee. "Might."
"Well, the name of your subject can give certainly give you a passing clue."
Tannehill frowned and mumbled into his coffee. "I didn't get her name."
Murphy guffawed and slapped the booth table. "It really hasn't been your day, has it?"
[Author's Note: This week's installment is 1353 words for a total of 4076. Don't phone me about the stereotypical police names. I did claim that this may wind up tilting drastically into pulp fiction.]
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