Scott was listening to NPR when the news of Senator Jacobs' death was announced. Some sort of structural flaw in the building had led the window to pop free, and both the Senator and the chief accountant, Winston Wittelsbach, had fallen to the deaths. The commentators then moved on to discuss the state of Japanese meditation in the U.S., and the question of whether the Shinto temples had been infiltrated by ninja.
    The phone rang. "Good morning?"
    "Hi, this is Reilly," a distinctly weary voice greeted him. "How you doing today, Scott?"
    "Feeling much like I got cut in half yesterday."
    "Oh, crap. I was hoping that you'd repair quickly; we have a problem. I just got an emergency phone call."
    "From?"
    "Coroner's office. Forensics," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I haven't had much coffee yet today. I just got a report back from Armani, you heard that story about Jacobs and Wittelsbach doing a swan dive out the unfortunately open window?"
    "Yes. Just heard it on the radio."
    "Well, considering they were involved in that investigation into criminal activity, they apparently treated the crime scene very carefully. They found something that means the whole thing has just been dumped directly into my lap and is being transferred to your lap."
    "Which is?"
    "An orangutan hair."
    "Oh, dear." So much for a couple of days off.
    "This is now officially our problem."
    "Let me call the rest of the team and let them know. Are you coming out?"
    "Yeah, I'm calling from home here. Let me get some coffee and shower and stuff."
    "We'll have breakfast waiting."
    "Oh good. I hope you're feeling better."
    "I'll see you when you get here."

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