STCD Fresh Prints #16
By Michael J Pennington
We arrived at the police station. There weren’t many glad to see us. One of my investigations uncovered some problems within the precinct. They didn’t like the black eye, not many people on the force like me. Not that they liked me before, but before, before I was little more than a joke. They were the ones who gave me my moniker, Detective Smoke.
Not everyone hated me, but not many would cross the line to talk to me and Gwen. One who would be our detective friend Dwyane Coldron, he greeted us in the hall. “Hey, guys! What brings you here?” He asked.
“They were hired by me?” Said Victora. “I want them to speak to my Nephew.”
“Um…” Said Dwyane. “That’s not standard procedure.”
“She cleared it with me.” Said the Sargent. He was a tall man with a deep voice. “Though if I’d had known it was this clown and his wife. I’d have said no.” He said looking at me.