Detective Michael Celluci sat at his desk staring at the open case file spread across the surface.
This was the second death in the last few days, and they were no closer to finding the killer than they had been days before.
They’d interviewed friends, family, and co-workers of the most recent victim and gotten bupkis.
Mike’s partner, Dave Graham, set a cup of coffee at his elbow, and Mike grunted a thanks.
He only looked away from the file when the grease and sugar scent of freshly fried donut breached the sense of smell Mike kept dialed down due to a tendency for some people
to overuse body sprays and others to underutilize the modern convenience of running water.
Which was nothing compared to the smell of fresh vomit and stale urine that wasn’t confined to the holding cells.
Mike took a bite of donut and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He washed the bite down with a sip of coffee.
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