I return to bring you more of what I want…. Because I don't know what you like…

Legato with vengeance

Detective Log #83

…56778786445667.5

Chapter: 6

"So, is this what he looked like?" a young man held out a pad of paper to Sam.

"Yup," the little boy smiled as he dangled his feet from the chair he was sitting on.

"Well then, Detective, here's your man," the young man handed Detective O'Neal a sheet of paper. "Have a nice day," he smiled as he left, closing the door to Detective O'Neal's hospital room after himself.

"Well… if it isn't the guy they let go!" O'Neal turned the picture to the chief of police. "You remember that case I had about three months ago, ya know, before the 'cell' crackdown?" O'Neal got a jumpstart form the death glare the chief of police was giving him. "Well, after the court hearing they found him innocent and let him go, and this guy is him!" Detective O'Neal jabbed his finger at the picture.

"Well, when they clear you for the heat stroke you suffered when you passed out in the telephone booth you can investigate it," the chief of police starts to usher Sam out of the room when Detective O'Neal stopped him.

"But, Chief, Sir, I can't obtain any information about him since all of it is on the case file," O'Neal tried to sit up in bed, but once again blacked out from getting up too quickly.

"Come on Sam, you can help me place a few telephone calls," the chief of police walked Sam out of the hospital.

"So, Sam, where exactly do you live?" detective O'Neal climbed into a car buckling Sam into the other side, having been cleared for a month now.

"Well… here and there," the looked around shyly even though the only other person there was Detective O'Neal, who had come to take Sam home after a week of trying to coax a phone number out of him.

"What do you mean, you have to live in a house somewhere," Detective O'Neal grunted the words out, feeling his dislike for this child come seeping back.

"Well… I did live in The Pizza Factory for a while and that's just a block away, but there was that time a week ago that I lived in a gym. But, when I found you, I was living in an attic on a house in 117th street…"

O'Neal stared in shock, then the little light went on in his head, "You're homeless, aren't you?" Detective O'Neal started to back the car back into its parking spot.

"I guess you could say that," Sam smiled for no apparent reason.

"Well then, who are your parents?" Detective O'Neal felt another wave of dislike for the bratty-ness in this kid, come back.

"You and Chief," he smiled again.

"WHAT? Look, kid, you know we can't be you parents," O'Neal was suddenly very annoyed at his naive-ness. "I mean, who took care of you before you found me?"

"Well, me I guess," Sam pointed at himself, with the most unassuming look that Detective O'Neal had ever seen.

"Ok, why don't you go and tell, our little conversation to the chief, and I'm going investigating." O'Neal opened Sam's door, and shoved him out, glad to be rid of life's little annoyances, and free to get back to work, somehow….

To be continued…