Twenty One
“We really didn’t plan on him doing something this dumb.” — Francesca BoyleBailey sat at her desk, sipping gingerly at her first coffee of the day and looking across her desk at Goff. He was standing just inside the doorway and holding a loose-leaf folder, which was open revealing an untidy pile of papers. He looked bleary-eyed and dishevelled, as if he had been up all night. Which, Bailey guessed, he had.
“What have we got?” she asked.
“From the apartment, we have…” Goff paused and shuffled through the papers, “…one large Pizza Hut box retrieved from the refuse can under the sink. The cash register receipt was still attached to the box with sticky tape. It was ordered on-line at eighteen seventeen hours last night and picked up from their central city store. We’ve checked wi
