It all started on a Sunday morning. There was a thin layer of fog stretched out over the city, and the typical sounds of the busy highways were echoing in my head. I rubbed my temple irritably as I poured myself a cup of coffee. I collapsed into a chair at the dinner table and put the cup of coffee to my lips. The hot liquid burned my tongue as I drank it. I gulped and set the cup down on the dining table. My tongue stung a little bit, and I immediately wished I had given the coffee a moment to cool.
I sighed as the telephone rang. I stood and strode over to my desk, which was located in the living room. To the left of my desk was a lamp, that happened to be on as I picked up the phone. I glanced at it before I put the phone to my ear, remembering how badly I had slept the night before.
"Angel," I said casually, trying to avoid sounding tired and lazy (which I was).
"Marc," a familiar voice said. "The boss call you yet?"
"Nah. Why?" I asked.
For a moment, there was no reply.
"Herman," I said.
"Wha---yeah?" he responded, obviously distracted.
"Where are you, man?"
"Down at a crime scene," he said slowly. "Pretty bloody one, too."
My eyes widened. "Wait---what? You're where?"
"At a crime scene, Marc. The boss should have called you two hours ago to call you over. I dunno why he didn't."
It was then that I remembered. I had slept in that morning. Usually, the phone would have woken me up, but I distinctively remembered knocking something over when I had sprawled into bed the previous night. Maybe I had disconnected the phone line.
"Look I gotta go man," Herman said quickly. "The officers are getting cranky."
"Wait," I snapped. "Give me the address, I'll be right there."
Without hesitance, he gave it to me. I jotted it down in my memory.
"Alright, gotta go now. Get here quick, forensics wants to get started."
I hung up the phone and quickly wrote down the address that he had given me on a piece of paper. I slipped the note in my front coat pocket and then proceeded to return to the dining table. I grabbed the cup of coffee and threw it in the sink. I walked towards the front door, threw on my hat to cover my bad hair, and opened the door.
Then I remembered.
I turned and dashed back into the living room. Grabbing a piece of paper off of the desk, I speedily and messily wrote a note to Lisa (my daughter) telling her where I was going and when I'd be back. With a sigh, I placed the note at the foot of the dining table.
I fast-walked down to the front door once again. The door was still open. I walked outside and shut the door loudly behind me. I approached my car and climbed in. I pulled the address out of my coat and looked at it. I knew the area. It was only a few miles away.
I backed out of the driveway and started down the road.