"No i meant, why would anyone kill Dr. Carol in her office like this."
"Don't know. That's our job to figure out."
"You know how when a wife is murdered. 99 times out of 100 it's the husband?"
"Yeah."
"Well do you think there's something about therapists. Like 99 times out of 100 it's a patient?"
"No. How would that work if the therapist has a husband."
"Now that's a sharp question."
The taller detective went over to the window. Stared out and took a deep breath.
"Good view here."
The shorter detective looked at him nonplussed.
"Shame that she can't see it anymore."
The shorter detective grunted back a non commital.
"Don't you ever get sick of this job?" Tall Man turned walked his long legs back over to shorty. Lit a cigarette to shorty's dismay. But Long Legs continued anyway. "Like they yank us here and there. Scene after scene. And for what? Do we ever solve any crimes? It's like they just want us to arrive at the scene. Talk about it and then before we can even solve it, they just throw us someplace new."
"Uh huh."
"And who are they? The people who get to decide where we go next! Like will we actually figure out who killed this Dr. Carol?"
"Statistically... no."
Tall man took a deep drag. Tried to smoke the cigarette all in one puff. Kind of like a man trying to shotgun a beer. He failed miserably and began having a coughing fit. Shorty walked over and took the cigarette from his hand.
A phone call came.
"Shorty here."
"Shorty. Your theory was right."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. So what does that mean now?"
"I'll get back to you. Don't let Big Joe know just yet. Not until this evening at least. I'll let you know."