The next morning, Denton arrived at the precinct with a coffee for Mark, and a dropped off a box of donuts at Reilly and Flint’s desk. He fully expected them to bitch at the gesture, but he couldn’t care.

At his desk, he set about finishing his paperwork, and was done by the time Alice got in. She hadn’t even taken off her jacket that they were called out. A body in the Bricks.

That was quickly wrapped up, an argument that escalated. the girl that had done in was hiding a block away, and caught by a uniformed officer. She confessed to it.

That paperwork was done, and things got quiet. Which let Denton think about the Lewiston murders again. He didn’t have any of the files, so he couldn’t do an actual investigation, but he could still do some research. 

He searched through the online papers for any mention of Alistair. There were a lot of them. Lewiston was active in most charities in Denver, and because of the wealth he had, the news loved to follow him. Denton was surprised at how little dirt there was. No mention of infidelities while his wife was alive, no suspicion he was involved with organized crime, or was a closeted gay dealing in child porn. okay, that last one was too far fetched even for him.

Although he had to be gay. That room in the basement hadn’t been there so others could enjoy it. That made him look deeper for any reporter who might have hinted at that. nothing. That raised a flag for Denton. and with the news stories on him being far too clean, he decided Alistair was paying off the papers to spin the stories favorably. That didn’t really help him with the murder though.

He stopped, and went back a picture, no, not that one, another, and another. This one. Something about it prickled at him. It was a gala honoring the Citizen Heroes, a foundation Alistair had setup to encourage everyday people to help each other out.

The photograph was centered on him, holding a champaign flute, and talking with an otter, dressed like she made more money that the whole department. He studied her, no she wasn’t what had caught his subconscious’ attention. Maybe he’d imagined it?

He was about to go back to the latest image when he noticed the cougar, two tables behind Alistair, talking with a siamese. He was wearing a tux, instead of a suit, but that was him, the fed. He was certain of it. He checked the date of the article, two weeks ago. Someone at the hotel might remember him.

He grabbed his jacket and prepared an excuse, when all hell broke loose. A shoot out on the south side, everyone was needed there.

It took the rest of the day to deal with it, and then was the paperwork. The captain hadn’t let them go until their part of it was done, the mayor had seen it on TV. It had happened in his old neighborhood. The captain wanted to make sure no mistake would let one of those shooters walk.

It was nine pm when Denton finally stepped out of the precinct. he’d have to check on the hotel tomorrow, he thought as he pulled out his phone. He had a dozen texts. he read them, and went back to the offer from a guy he hadn’t seen in a few month, and replied to it.

‘Just leaving work. if you’re at my place by the time I get there, I’ll fuck you till you can’t walk anymore.’

That should ensure he’d hurry.

The dalmatian was waiting by the time Denton arrived.

He was able to walk, when he left the next morning, but he walked funny.