He picked up the receiver to the black phone sitting on his desk and listened for a dial tone. Slipping his index finger into the face of the phones dial just over the number nine he pulled the disk around in a circle until his finger hit the chrome stop. He pulled his fingertip away and allowed the dial to return to its original position. He heard the familiar, “dat, dat, dat, dat, dat, dat,” as the disk unwound. He placed his index finger into the dial above the one and made the short trip to the chrome stop. “Dat, dat,” the second the dial stopped he dialed one once more. He heard the first ring, and then a second, “brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”.
“What is your emergency?” a women’s voice asked.
“There has been a murder,” he said, “there’s blood everywhere.” He spoke clearly and without hesitation.
“Where are you calling from?” the women’s voice questioned, but he did not hear. The receiver had fallen out of his hand and onto the tiled concrete floor. He fell forward, his head-hitting the desk. His breathing stopped. The room fell silent.
“Sir, sir, where are you calling from?” a thin voice said, but no one was there to hear it.
“Why don’t we just give it to him?” The Lieutenant was pacing back in forth in the small, glassed in area inside the police station. His pacing required a deal of attention, rolls of file cabinets and a desk piled to capacity left little free floor space in the captains’ office.