hey.
i warned you about that cheerful shit.
friend here did a half-gainer with a firebird tuck from the third floor.
not unless he decided not to bother opening the window first.
well, he wasn't exactly in a condition to walk a chalk line when we got here. you're welcome to try and smell his breath if you like, that is if you can find the mouth.
on their way. willie promises a white paper tomorrow. or wednesday, depending on his golf game.
mr. jiminez. was taking a short cut to his job at a packing plant on san pedro. first thing he remembers about the deceased is several vital organs bouncing off his windshield.
he's straight. shook up some.
no wallet, license, nothing. he is missing one or two things, though.
his eyes.
we've found everything else -- and what fun that was, let me tell you -- but the eyes are still awol. might just be stuck in the radiator grill. little weird though.
both popping out together like that. worth a page in my scrapbook.
john smith.
there are, what an intelligent, experienced detective like yourself could possibly construe as signs of a struggle.
naturally nobody saw or heard anything.
ku san's on fourteenth is still open for another hour. whatd'ya say we pull out the 'ol "suicide" rubber stamp and get some lunch. rancid chow mein and watered beer for under three bucks.
that usually happens when you break a window.
arizona desert, i think. which is exactly where i'm going to be in two years, three months.
you're breaking my heart.