Yesterday started out in a grand fashion.
We were scheduled to have nine detectives working, and as I was driving in I received texts from three saying they were sick, one whose wife went into labor, and one who would be two hours late.
Joy.
So it was me and The Redhead Queen in the office when the first report came in. The complainant’s (bullshit) story went like this: He came home late after a night out. In his rush to get inside, he left his fully loaded Smith & Wesson 9mm semi-auto pistol in his car. Because reasons. The next day, this clown wakes up, goes out to the car, and notices the gun is missing. There are no signs of forced entry, the inside of the vehicle is not disturbed, and nothing else is taken. Just the loaded pistol.
The Queen brings in the “victim,” and goes after him hard. She asks why he would be so stupid to leave his gun in his car, why he has no information on the weapon, and why he hasn’t hanged himself in embarrassment. (Okay, I made up that last part.)
A half hour goes by, and I see the Queen walking the victim out the door and giving him a hearty, “Have a nice day!” Puzzled, I stare at her blankly, and ask what the hell just happened.
“Oh, while I was grilling him, the guy claimed he worked as a Voodoo priest. I have enough problems without some dude sticking pins in his very own Redhead Queen doll.”
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