When Detective David Chan arrived, the forensics team was wrapping up. Rudy Alipio had been an informant for Chan’s partner. Just by nature of his work as a barber, always chatting up his customers, and because of his location on Hotel Street in the heart of Chinatown, Rudy’d been a regular fount of knowledge.
Chan found Detective Yamamoto in back by the toilet. The ex-barber was being carried out.
“Victor,” Chan asked, “did you see him before they moved him?”
“Yeah. Throat cut. Sitting on the can. Razor on the ground. Plenny blood.”
“With the kinda people he knew,” Chan said, “chances were good the longer he lived, the more people might want him dead.”
Yamamoto chuckled. “Yeah, I’m gonna guess he didn’t commit suicide.”
* * * * *
Happy #WriterSaturday. I hope you’re well and coping with the craziness. Today’s #WritingPrompt is
Use the prompt to inspire a piece of writing, any style, any length, even if just a sentence or two, and then post that piece on your page and link back to me, or simply leave it as a comment below. I would love to read it.