Sergeant Kent Hobstone looked down at the dead mans body in the bodybag.''Shot through the head you say,'he inquired.The paramedic nodded and zipped up the bodybag.''The bullet went through his brain,he died instantly,'said the paramedic.''Anything else,'asked Kent.''We found a puddle of vomit over there,'said the paramedic,pointing to the wall.Kent walked down the corridor and knelt down beside the pile of sick.He took a wiff and stood up immediately and took out a hankerchief and pressed it to his mouth and nose.''It looks like our killer had something for breakfeast that didn't agree with him,'said Kent.Another paramedic walked in and helped the other paramedic lift the bodybag out the door.
Kent walked away from the puke and started to search.''Evidence,evidence,evidence,the problem with criminal's these days is that they don't leave any fucking evidence anymore,'said Kent.He rubbed his head.God,he missed the eighties.You didn't get shit like this back then.But then,nothing lasts forever.
Kent rolled his eyes.He took out his notebook and wrote down a description of the crime scene.He sighed and walked out the door into the night air.The house was big with greenish windows and a coat of baige paint.He told a junior officer to sketch the house and got into the car.What was he?An eighties cop in the fucking twenty first century.This was his last case and then he would retire.Take Molly to the Carribean on a luxury cruise.He smiled as he thought about it.
He revved the engine and headed for home.