This he said only in his mind as he cracked three eggs into a bowl. The oil was heating in a small skillet. He continued the internal monologue. ‘You remember the good, old days when you were paid to get other people out of trouble.’ He chopped up some onion and two slices of bologna. The intended omelet turned out to be scrambled eggs. ‘Same same,’ he told Casey, who had just meandered in, no doubt picking up the scent of breakfast. ‘All right, all right,’ he said to the universe, ‘I’m going to get on it.’ What was on the plate didn’t look like an omelet or scrambled eggs. ‘A scramlet,’ he said, putting some of it in a bowl he put down for Casey and a tablespoonful of it for Einstein. He took his plate into his office where he sat on a chair, putting the plate in his lap and the coffee on a side table. He flicked on the television. He glanced at his watch as the screen gained life. Five minutes until the news. He pushed the ‘mute’ button. There had to be something about the case.
