Jerrick was staring blankly at the large expanse of desk in front of him.  It was littered with various pieces of paper, post its, memos and other flotsam that served to remind him he was way behind on his caseload.  Picking up one reminder after another, reading it but not taking it in, then setting it back down and selecting the next, he sighed heavily.  He loved his job, often spent hours after he should have finished in the office chasing up results, completing statements, filling out submission forms, but it seemed the criminal fraternity of Canyon City were on a mission to make his life as difficult as possible.

Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his arms up, locking his fingers behind his head and tensed every muscle in his body momentarily, then released and exhaled.  He needed a vacation.  It had been too long since he'd taken some time for himself.  He was of the opinion that his wife had forgotten who he was, the tired, pasty faced stranger walking through the door at all times of the day and night, a perfunctory "Hi" and a peck on the cheek.  He chuckled inwardly as he looked down at his desk drawer.  The times of keeping a bottle of bourbon in the bottom drawer had long gone, the new 'face' of the force supposedly presenting a cleaner, more honest image to the citizenry, the new Commissioner intent on showing that his time at the top would be corruption and scandal free.

The constant noise and chatter of the office thrummed in his ears, but somehow muted, his internal analysis turning down the volume on his surroundings.  Right, get a grip man, he mused.  Time to put a dent in this lot.  At least he didn't have anything new looming over him to deal with.

"Lutforth!! Hey!! Lutforth!!", Trudy, one of his colleagues shouted, standing at her desk and looking over the low partition of her cubicle.  Jerrick looked up to see her waving from the other side of the office, the coils of the cable to the phone in her hand waving.
"Pick up line 2, there's a hot one for ya!!", she grinned, knowing exactly how busy he already was.  Ahh crap.  There goes catching up on the backlog, he thought.  Coming to his senses, he looked at the large phone on his desk, myriad lights on or flashing, seeing the red light blinking by the 2 button.  Here we go again.

The receiver cold against his ear, "Lutforth, CSI, how may I help you?"  The voice on the other end of the phone was that of Bill Moore, one of the more sensible Homicide detectives.  He was brief but informative, letting Jerrick know that there had been an incident at the Insomniac Alley club.  Uniformed officers had already attended and had established a crime scene and were busy making sure the premises was secure, no-one in, no-one out.  Bill was about to head down with his team, and, of course, needed one of the Csi team to begin the forensic investigation.  After scribbling down the address on a pad by the phone, he told Bill he'd be right there.  Replacing the phone in its slot, he rested his head in his hands, elbows bent on the desk, ruffled his short dark hair and then stood, grabbing the keys to his van.  A swift grab of his radio, the instinctive check of the Glock at his hip and he made out of the office, not rushing.  There was no need to rush.  The body wasn't going anywhere.