It was the last thing you would expect to find in a swimming pool.

We were called out to the house on a saturday morning. I was reading the sports page, drinking a cup of joe, chewing the last donut, when we got the call. Apparently, someone got splattered in the valley again, and we got the short straw.

We pulled up in front of a swanky house and I got out, pitching my cigarette into the daffodils. I looked over at my partner, Dave, he just shook his head, a man of few words. The beat cop let us in through the front and pointed to the back. There was a swell looking broad, crying, talking to Jones.

I wondered what they needed us for if Jones and O’ Malley were already on the case. I could be having another cup and reading the box scores. We walked back to the pool, Johnson was there, taking photos.

Sure enough, there was a body, floating in the pool. I could see something in the water, it looked like a sink. I bent down, shoes crunching glass. I looked back at the house and an upstairs bathroom window.

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