"Courrier, sir, you cannot just suspend me from the case." Callaghan was trying, so hard, a week or so after Mendez's death, to talk to her boss in a manner that would be taken as appropriate. And that required her to hold her ponies, leaving her normal sass and snark somewhere to hibernate.
"Actually I can, detective." He looked at her. Courrier was a tall man, taller than Toussaint, wide in shoulders and quite slim in hips. His longer, raven hair were shining and impeccably styled, so she suspected he was using a paste or other kind of shit. In the moment he spoke, she felt a wave of cold spreading from her chest to the whole body. "That was your wife and you should not..."
