Sitting at our desks in the squad room and wondering what to do next, the phone in front of me rang. It was dark outside, and the squad room was devoid of any humanity occupying it except for the two of us. But downstairs was a cacophony of noise. The ground floor of a precinct house, any precinct house, is a human zoo on any typical day. Uniform police officers coming and going. Lawyers coming in to talk to their clients. Phones ringing. Radios blaring.
Like I said. A madhouse.
But up here, in the detective’s squad room, Frank and I sat in almost eerie semi-darkness half asleep from the last few days of whirlwind activity at working multiple homicide cases. I admit it, I half jerked out of my office chair when the phone rang. Reaching for it, I threw it to my ear and started to say some
