Jordan’s rumpled trench coat showed evidence of oregano pesto. It didn’t take a detective to see he’d had Italian for lunch. He’d been lucky and gotten a seat without a reservation by crashing his ex-partner’s date at their favorite eatery.
He pulled out his notebook as he wistfully thought of the bread and pasta left on his plate when the call had come in. At least he’d had half his lunch before duty called.
He squatted as he gingerly used a pencil tip to push the gun away from the body. Keith Knight wasn’t so lucky.