Read The Gumshoe Diaries for Free Online Page B

classes weren’t filled freckle faced undergrads; her
classes were filled with forensic scientists sent by cities from
around the country and beyond to learn her approach to the craft if
you will. To say she was brilliant would be an understatement.
Luckily for me she was also still in the closet and I’m not above
using my inside information as leverage when I need a favor. So
after my shower, shave, and meal Looney Tunes and I would be having
a wee chat about the little blue threads in my pocket and whatever
tell-tale crud and DNA might be soaked into them. My gut has always
been a good barometer when it came to hunches and right now it was
growling audibly. It was more than hunger pains, it was fear. Of
what I had no idea, but it felt very real nonetheless, why?
    ****
    ( “five to one baby, one in five, no one here gets
out alive…”)…The Doors…1972

Chapter Seven
    Time is relative…nowhere in particular, Los
Angeles
    Are you enjoying following around this
pissant Whitey Roode? Yes, I’m talking to you silly goose!
You’re the one turning the pages aren’t you? Don’t be shy, my words
won’t hurt you. They may make you feel a little queer, but they
can’t harm you, well , the words that is. Quite a character
don’t you think? He amuses me, and for that reason alone I think
I’ll let him live a while longer. Sometimes it’s more fun to be the
mouse instead of the cat, am I right? I mean it’s certainly more
exciting, fearing the unexpected. For me, that happens so rarely. I
rather enjoy the change of pace. Still; when the time is
right, when he’s close to solving the puzzle that is me, it will be
my blade that he discovers in the end. Pity, but as they say, all
good things must come to an end. They also say (whoever they
are) that no good deed goes unpunished. Sad, but true in
Whitey’s case, I’ll miss him, poor thing.
    --
    Ahmanson Center for Biological Research,
USC…Tuesday, Feb 17, 2009…8am
    --
    Mornings are always hectic on campus,
especially Tuesday mornings. You would think Mondays would be the
one, but not USC, the University of Spoiled Children. Most of the
kids around here needed an extra day to recover from the weekend.
That didn’t matter to Judy Looney, her routine was the same day in
and day out. Jump out of bed right after the second snooze alarm,
pee, hop in and out of the cold shower, pee again , brush
your teeth with one hand and swirl a q-tip in your ear with the
other. Then gargle with a healthy dose of Listerine, cool mint
of course , and throw together an outfit from the pile of
clothes on the floor, whatever passes the sniff test that is. And viola , Showtime! At least that was Judy Looney’s routine,
just as it had been since leaving boring and dreary Nebraska for
exciting and sunny California, some twenty years ago. This Monday
would not be any different as the snooze alarm screamed for the
second time.
    “ SHIT,” Judy exclaimed, suddenly wide
awake!
    Leaping out of her toasty warm trundle bed
Judy scurried down the hall to the bathroom. I know what you’re
thinking, what’s a forty something college professor doing sleeping
on a bed designed for a teenybopper? Well, the short answer is that
emotionally she was perpetually sixteen at best. The long
complicated answer was that college professors made squat, and the
brilliant ones tended to make even less than that due to the fact
that they were usually too wrapped up in their projects to worry
about trivial little things like say, oh I don’t know , like
making a living maybe? Incredible, I know , but
that was her lifestyle, God bless her. To be honest, I sort of
envied her, a dyed in the wool, womb to tomb egghead without a care
in the world!
    As she scrubbed her face in the shower, Judy
recited the day’s agenda. She shivered under the steady stream of
icy cold water, while her perky set of 34 Cs bounced like gelatin
on a plate, and warbled a long brrrrrrr . Thermal shock
showers were just one of many routines