Property Of by CP Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

buzzed Detective Reed while she instructed me to take a seat. Five minutes later, a large man with salt and pepper hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a friendly smile came around the corner.
    “Are you Miss Royse?” Reed asked me.
    “I am. Are you Detective Reed?”
    “The one and only. Come on back with me and we can talk at my desk. Most of the detectives are out, so it’s quiet.”
    When he motioned for me to follow him, I stood up and grabbed my notebook and to-go cup of coffee from Gypsy’s I purchased on my way to the station.
    “I see you like Gypsy’s too,” Reed replied as he motioned to my cup.
    “Too?” I asked as dread seeped in.
    “The coffee here is swill, most of the boys grab Gypsy’s on their way in,” he chuckled as my panic fled.
    Reed stopped at a desk that had a twin butted up to the length of it in a mirror image. He had a picture of an older woman on his desk, and you could tell by the mischief in her eyes that she was a ball breaker. The matching desk that I assumed was his partner’s, had a picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman with two small children smiling large at the camera sitting on it. It was nice to see that both Reed and his partner were dedicated family men. Seeing their dedication to family, I immediately wanted to put Reed and his partner in my book. I envisioned them as seasoned, yet loving family men, who fought crime and kept the streets safe for everyone else, while they put their lives on the line.
    “Miss Royse?” Lost in thought, I jumped at my name and looked toward Reed.
    “Yes?”
    “You gonna have a seat?” he replied as if he’d already asked that question.
    “Oh, yes, sorry. Writer’s block,” I explained as I sat down.
    “You have writer’s block?” he chuckled with confusion written on his face.
    “Oh, yes, all the time. I can’t go anywhere or meet new people without turning them into characters. My writer’s block makes me block out the world and lose myself in my head.”
    “Sounds like a good place to be if you’re a writer, I’d think,” he replied.
    “Yes, exactly, though my family and friends find it irritating,” I laughed.
    “Cross said you needed information for a new book you’re writing. What can I help you with?” Reed smiled.
    He was so nice.
    “I need to know basic police investigative steps. I can improvise how they handle the case within the story, say the officer doesn’t follow procedure, but I need to know what that procedure is to begin with.”
    “That would depend on the case and the victim. But, standard procedure would be to take the complaint, investigate any leads, and then make arrests based on the evidence obtained during the investigation. Once an arrest has been made, we would then turn over the evidence and findings to the prosecutor.”
    “It’s all very clinical, isn’t it? I don’t know why I imagined that each case would be handled based on the evidence, sort of one size doesn’t fit all scenario. But you’re saying that it’s pretty much the same no matter the case.”
    “There’s nothing pretty about murder, Miss Royse. If we want the sons of bitches, pardon my French, who commit the crimes to pay then we follow the rules to the T so we can convict them.”
    Pulling my pen from my binder, I jotted down what Reed had said. While I was writing, it occurred to me that it would be fascinating to see him in action, to see him interview a suspect or witness, even investigate a lead.
    “Do you ever permit civilians to ride along? I’d love to see what a day in the life of a homicide detective is like.”
    “Not as a general rule, but I wouldn’t be opposed to taking you,” he grinned. ”I suppose I could ask my Lieutenant. But I’ll warn you now it’s boring legwork and you’ll likely fall asleep,” he chuckled.
    “Oh, I wouldn’t mind; I’m always looking for new characters for my books and getting out and meeting new people is a great way to fuel my creativity.”
    “What type of