In the early days of modern detecting at the CCPD, Tannehill often had to rely on the press to assist in an investigation.
Sometimes it was through quid pro quo - (a) Give a reporter an exclusive insight into one case. (b) Wait a sufficient amount of time as etiquette dictated. (c) Drop by a spot that both the detective and reporter frequent. (d) Notice that the reporter has accidentally left information on a confidential source in the open. (e) Verify its the reporter's information by examining it. (f) Promptly return the information to the reporter.
Sometimes it was through subterfuge - (a) Leak erroneous information about a case during a press conference or via a confidential tip. (b) Allow the press to publish the information. (c) See which helpful citizen comes forward to correct the misinformation that only a suspect would know.
And sometimes it was just through (a) plain begging.
Tannehill stood now in front of the Capital City Daily Courier just shy of the city's habitual 9 AM start time and just blocks from the newly minted Emily Brunner's apartment flat. A tall, thin man with salt and pepper hair and an aquiline nose approached him. He wore no coat and his light brown button-down shirt was a size too big for his already gaunt frame. The thinness of his face matched his frame, but his dark brown eyes illuminated a deep intelligence that contrasted his otherwise harried and disorganized appearance.
"Hello, Phil."
"Hello, Tannehill. Surprised to see you downtown so early on this fine morning." Whisps of the morning's fog and a ten-second rain shower responded to Phil's greeting in agreement.
"Yup," Tannehill tilted his eyes toward the sky and scratched his chin, "my schedule's been a little off-kilter the last couple of days."
"You expecting the usual?"
"I am," Tannehill handed the previous day's roll of film over to Phil. "These photos are ones that you and I generally agree go in the 'sensitive' category."
Phil looked down at the roll, "another one of Snell's errands?"
"Uh-huh."
"OK, it'll probably be a couple of days. I've got a backlog and the glee with which people seem to be assaulting their fellow brethren these days will likely add to it."
"Yeah, about that. Can you rush it for later this afternoon?"
"Why," Phil looked up, "what's your angle?"
"You haven't heard?"
"No," now it was Phil's turn to rub his chin, "I don't suppose I have."
"Snell's dead."
Phil cocked an eyebrow wide in surprise. Even Phil's 20 years of experience as a crime beat reporter in one of the most corrupt and violent cities in America couldn't contain his reaction to Tannehill's flat demeanor in announcing the death of his partner.
"Yeah, someone got to him at my office last night?"
Phil knew that condolences for Tannehill's recently deceased partner were unnecessary. "So, homicide? Not some sexy party game gone awry?"
Tannehill chuckled."You know, er, knew him too well. But, yeah, homicide."
"And this is on the record? I can use you for a source when chatting with CCPD?"
Tannehill thought for a minute. "Yeah, no use in hiding where it's coming from. Everyone's gonna assume I know my partner's dead. But, do me a favor - get that film processed before following up on the story."
"Why, what's a roll of smut have to do with Snell?"
Tannehill smirked and Phil smirked back in realization at his own rhetorical question. "I have no basis for it, but I think the photos there may be linked to Snell's death. I'd like to see if I can get a jump on something before anyone gets too wise."
"Alright, I can have the photos done by 1 pm. Stop by then."
"Thanks, Phil." Tannehill turned to leave.
"Oh, and CH," Tannehill turned back, "no charge for this roll." Tannehill nodded and walked away. If Phil wasn't going to offer condolences or send flowers, he could do something to stave off his complete loss of humanity a bit longer.
---
Tannehill landed back at the World's Best Egg Sandwich Diner and sat down at the counter. He ordered a coffee, and OJ, and a bowl of oatmeal with a side of bacon.
He started reviewing the case. "What do I know?" Snell's dead. A simple fact, but a fact nonetheless. Given Snell's eagerness to get him out of the office the day before, could he infer that the apartment had something to do with his death? Or was the address just simply far enough away from the office to buy time for Snell and his moonlighting business?
But to reach the apartment at just the right moment to catch two people having sex? That certainly seemed like a Snellian touch. And most people drew their blinds during amorous moments - especially high-end professionals - if that's what the lovely Miss Brunner was - who had reputations (and arrest records) to keep intact. But, unless the two lovers were world-class marathoners with the self-control of saints, it would seem unreasonable that they'd been making love during Tannehill's entire sojourn downtown. Besides, the Uncle looked like he'd be short of breath scurrying to the store around the corner for another pack of cigarettes much less partaking in extended bedroom session.
If that were the case, then it meant they had to be tipped off to Tannehill's arrival, which meant someone had to tip them off. Snell would have no way to determine how long it would take for Tannehill to arrive, since traffic from the office to downtown was invariably predictable, which meant...? The Doorman. Tannehill smiled slightly at the thought of another round with his new nemesis.
His breakfast arrived. The coffee was a bit colder than he'd like, the oatmeal lumpy, and the bacon limp. The orange juice, however, was delicious.
"That'll be 80 cents."
Tannehill sighed and dug into his pocket for a dollar bill. He could afford a bit more extravagance today since Phil decided to pick up the photo processing pro bono. "Keep the change," he replied to the surprised server, "it's worth every penny for your egg sandwiches. They're my favorite."
[Author's Note: Today's edition is 1020 words for a total of 8248 words in the story (Hey, it's like an official short story now!). I've got at least a couple of more chapters of exposition and one of history, so it looks like we've got at least another month together before writer's block threatens to strike. I've been happy with the way the story's taken shape so far. Some of the character development - and some of the future character development based on what I've written so far - is taking on a life of its own that I hadn't originally anticipated.]
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