“Bridger!” 

Detective Dominic Bridger glanced up from the file he was flipping through at the sound of his name being bellowed across the squad room. One look at the commander’s face and he bit back an oath. He’d seen that look before — many times — and it did not bode well for the recipient. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming and he wondered what his chances were for getting out of it. 

His commander jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “In my office. Now.” 

With a sigh, Bridger slammed the file shut and headed for the commander’s office. 

Commander Bob Hensen eyed him suspiciously as he entered. “How are you coming along with the Congressman’s kid’s case?” 

Just as he’d suspected and he hadn’t given it a second thought since it was dumped on his desk three months ago. “You really expect me to investigate his death as a homicide?” 

“Yeah, I do. So, get out there and start investigating. Take Jackson with you. He looks bored. And close the door on your way out.” 

Since he’d been dismissed, Bridger walked out into the squad room and stopped next to Detective Greg Jackson’s desk. The commander was right, he did look bored. He had his feet propped up on his desk and was tossing wadded up pieces of paper into a trash can he’d placed on the desk next to his. 

“Come on, Jackson. Let’s go.” 

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

“I don’t know what to tell you. Let’s go,” he repeated. 

Jackson let out an exaggerated sigh and dropped his feet to the floor. “Where are we going?” 

“To interview the Congressman’s kid’s friends.” 

“The kid who killed himself?” 

“We don’t know that he killed himself.” Now he was beginning to sound like the commander. 

Jackson snickered. “Yeah, we do. The Congressman is just fooling himself.” 

Bridger shrugged. 

“Fine. I’ll meet you out back.” Jackson heaved himself out of his chair. He was probably in a snit now but as long as he did his job, Bridger didn’t particularly care about his attitude. 

The phone on his desk rang before he could get away. “Bridger here.” 

“Hi, Detective. I’ve got a lady out front who says her sister was murdered. Can you talk to her?” 

He dragged his hand down his face. “I was just leaving. Can’t you get someone else?” 

“Someone like who?” demanded the receptionist. 

He glanced around the squad room. He was the only one there. “Never mind. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

…continued…

© 2019 Murder and Mayhem Murder Mystery Quilts — ISBN 978-1-68170-016-8