(Note: This part 2 of a 5-part rewrite of an old piece I started and never finished. The story timeframe is somewhere in the 1970s. I’m poking fun at the genre and also at myself. If nobody likes it, that’s okay. It’s been really fun to do and that is my indulgence.)

Liggnum guided his battered 1965 Chevy Biscayne into the parking garage that housed the vehicle division of the Port Starboard Police Department. It was 9:10 on another Monday and already the temperature sign on the bank across the street read 78 degrees.

Upstairs in Homicide, Vingrid Blaytant grinned at him as he plodded down the aisle to his desk in the corner.

“Got a hot one for you today, Sarge,” she said.

Liggnum paused and looked at her, trying desperately to keep his eyes on her face. He noticed her grin widen and knew that, once again, he’d been unsuccessful.

“Whumph befsh?” he managed.

“What?”

He reached a finger into his mouth, removed a wad of web, and snapped it from his finger to the bottom of the beat-up green metal wastebasket that graced the floor at the edge of her desk. It made a satisfying clong when it hit. He ignored her puzzled look of distaste.

“What’s that?” he repeated.

She shook herself loose from what she’d just seen and got down to business.

“Call came in about half and hour ago. The morning crew over at Pete’s Party Restaurant found a guy in their dining room face down in a plate of caper salad.”

“Dead?”

“Deader than my sex life,” she responded, giving Liggnum the same opportunity she gave him every morning.

Liggnum imagined the guy doing cartwheels across the dining room. “Mmm…” was all he said. After a night with Vingrid, Liggnum was pretty sure he’d be clearing away more than spider webs. He nodded absently and moved on to his desk to hide.

Vingrid watched his back as he walked to his desk. She tried not to sigh and answered her suddenly ringing phone, grateful for the diversion.