- Doing Laundry – Part 1
- Doing Laundry – Part II
- Doing Laundry – Part III
- Doing Laundry – Part IV
- Doing Laundry – Part V
- Doing Laundry – Part VI
- Doing Laundry – Part VII
- Doing Laundry – Part VIII
- Doing Laundry – Part IX
- Doing Laundry – Part X
- Doing Laundry – Part XI
- Doing Laundry – Part XII
- Doing Laundry – Part XIII
- Doing Laundry – Part XIV
- Doing Laundry – Part XV
- Doing Laundry – Part XVI
- Doing Laundry – Part XVII
Photo: Kim MyoungSung – (CC BY 2.0)
“Detective Osprey?” A tall man with a receding hairline and weathered skin said as he knocked on the door. Slightly ajar, it eased open on the hinges.
“Yeah…what do you got Lieutenant?” Patrick Osprey had the build of a fire-truck, served a couple tours in the Marines, and still folded his sleeves over his softball biceps to prove it. He had short blonde hair, and an even shorter temper. He liked the trepidation he instilled on those around him.
“That credit card you wanted me to watch. It popped up again. Khols department store in Harrisburg.”
“Did you call ‘em?” Patrick only moved his neck enough deliver the question between his Lieutenant’s eyes. Lieutenant Ramsey wasn’t stupid, worked hard, and as a consequence was one of the few individuals at the precinct that Detective Osprey tolerated.
“Sure did. Said they didn’t see anything unusual. The card was credited $92.35 for a return. When I asked about it, they said a couple blouses, and a pair a pants. Tags still on.”
“Tags? How’s he doin that?” Detective Osprey said half to the Lieutenant, and half to himself.
“Sir. Maybe his girlfriend put him up to it. Maybe it’s legit,” Lieutenant Ramsey shrugged still holding the copies of the scanned receipts.
“Can I see those?” Osprey said, as he motioned for the documents and donned a pair of reading glasses.
“He’s gotta make another mistake. How’s that warrant coming?” Detective Osprey said without looking up.
“It’s not. FBI wants more to go on. I got ‘em to leave the case open, but we’re running out of time.”
“What!? More to go on? Did you tell them that that card was involved in a verified scam at a Saks Fifth Avenue in the Galleria for a $3500 coat!? Did you tell them that we found the coat, photographed the tags, and the barcode styles were completely different from the others on the rack!?”
“Well…uh…I told them that we had conclusive evidence that pointed to the cardholder as the perpetrator of the crime…” Lieutenant Ramsey stuttered to a stop.
“Lieutenant. Leave this office right now, and go get back on the phone with whoever you need to to get me that warrant,” Patrick’s words seethed from his mouth the rest of his body tensing with his rising blood pressure.
“Ye…Yes. Yes sir. Absolutely,” Lieutenant Ramsey managed before backing out of the office and heading for the nearest phone.