Chamberlain
Chamberlain couldn’t get the day out of his mind. It was an itch. These happened to him from time to time. Not a lot, but enough. Things that were just beyond his immediate memory. He sloughed it off. Forty years with the department. He was allowed to forget a thing or two, as long as he kept clearing cases, he thought as he drove to the scene.
The call had come in this morning at a quarter to nine. Levesque and Sons had been robbed. One of the employees had been found dead. The owner, young J.D. was also found unconscious with a gun in his hand.
That’s what had started the itch. Something about the date? Or was it Levesque? Something was familiar, and it was scratching at the back of his head.
Chamberlain had wiped the crumbs from the donut off his beard and pressing both hands into his desk, creaking under the strain, lifted himself up.
“Reilly!” he called for his partner.
Getting no immediate response, he remembered he was yet to see his partner. And that it wasn’t atypical for him to show up late. He then waddled to dispatch, throwing his arms out in front to propel his bulk, and requested a message be sent to Reilly requesting he meet him at Levesque Jewelers.
As he drove he kept trying to remember what combination of Levesque Jewelers, the date, and a shooting might have caused this itch.
