Blogofficer Anobella

In the precinct captain’s office, on the second floor, the quiet evening had erupted into bedlam. The captain had gone home for the day, of course, the prisoners upstairs had been given their evening meal, the evening patrolman shift had been sent on its way, and the lieutenant in charge had been relaxing down into that slow quiet period of the day Dortmunder had been counting on. The lieutenant had been glancing through detectives’ reports, in fact, looking for the dirty parts, when people started to run into his office.
The first one hadn’t actually run, he’d walked. The patrolman on the switchboard it was, and he said, „Sir, the phone’s gone dead.“
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Schöne Grüße aus der Westlake-Fanzentrale,

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