Graham hung his damp overcoat on the
back of his door and immediately set about fixing something for tea, resolutely
directing his thoughts to his case load, a stack of files which sat on the
coffee table waiting for him. There was an interesting insurance fraud case
going on. The suspect was a middle-aged man with three children who was low on
cash after a rancorous divorce. His eyes glazed over as he sipped his tea, a
bland blend of lemon and some other sickly flavor. He sighed. The next file was
a man who claimed he was being robbed. There was ample evidence to support his assistant
as the crook and the case was practically wrapped up from there. Graham plopped
in on top of insurance fraud and moved on.
Frank
Abbot. The name was
familiar, but he couldn’t think of where he had heard it.
“What about it boy?” He said to Bentley,
as the dog pressed his muzzle insistently into his master’s arm. “Frank Abbot.”
He scratched his chin and stared out the window, his fingers moving
mechanically across Bentley’s ears. The dog panted. “Frank Abbot.” Graham said
again. “It’s going to nag at me all afternoon.” Setting the lemon tea aside he
pulled his laptop over and began pounding on the keys.
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