I decided to start writing the ending, because it’s the middle that i’m having problems with. Here’s more from the middle.
I’m no newshound sleuth, trying to solve deadly mysteries, or anything like that. You got people already to do that kind of thing. Sure, I may do some investigating, here and there, but it’s usually about why a city official suddenly has new toys in the driveway, and a tab at the strip clubs. And I’m fine with that. It was for sure that staying firmly on the other side of the yellow tape was all that I wanted to do with this story. Just like the cops wanted me to do, I thought.
I thought. Sgt. Meyer set me straight on that, sort of. “I’m here to leak details on the Killer to you,” she told me that night. If that sounds abrupt, it was for me, too: she walked right up to my bar booth and said it before she even sat down.
“You’ve got a weird way of saying ‘Hello,’ Meyer.” I waved to the waitress. “And don’t you have a pension to worry about?”