The damn cellphone rang, as so often, in the middle of the night, waking me from my already disturbed sleep. I quickly looked at the display and already knew who it was.
Of course, it was my boss who called. “Listen, Spencer! You'll have to get down to the station right away! The officers have been sent out to a Mansion in London, for a complaint from some neighbors. At least two people have been murdered and a 16-year-old girl has been kidnapped. I'm in New York, so you have to lead the case. I'm home again on Thursday. Good luck". Then my boss slammed the phone before I had a chance to speak out against him.
I got up and jumped in my clothes and drove down to the station. As expected, I was the only one on the road at this time of the night. Everyone else was at home and got their beauty sleep.
When I arrived at the station, it was still almost empty and dark. Only a few people who had been so unlucky to get the week's night shift sat in front of their computers, at their equally ugly desks.
I checked in and slipped into my little office where I took my sign and my service gun. After using my gun to scare a young graffiti painter in the backyard, I have been ordered not to bring it home.
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