"Detective," the Chief would say with a sigh, "I know you are new in town and you want to make a big impression, but this is not the way to do it. The Weston case is not something that should be part of your time here. We have other pressing matters..."
That was all John Grimes needed to hear in the moment. Since he was added to the lead detectives team in the city, he had been looking for that one crime, that one unsolvable mystery to get him on the board, to make a name in this department and this city. Was he using it as a way to get his name out there? Sure, but wouldn't anyone?
John Grimes was moved to the city from a small town upstate. One that definitely didn't see as much crime... or even corruption... as this city. He would grab a back of cigarettes from his pocket, smacking the pack against his hand with a smile as he stood in front of his door, talking with the Chief, before pulling one out and sticking it between his teeth, holding it while he lit it up.
As the first poof of smoke would pool from his lips, he would look over at the Chief, "This woman has been dead for 17 years, Jimmy," he would say, all formalities dropped in the conversation, "You are telling me you have no lies, no motivated, nothing... What about her family, huh?"
With that, the Chief would scuff as he would turn to move down the hallway, "Your funeral, John," he would say as he continued, "This better not take away from your other work. If it does, I swear to God, I will have your gun and badge on my desk by the morning!"
John smirked as he would move through the door. Sitting at the desk, he took a moment to the dark, just to himself. The glow of the cigarette the only light in the room, until he would see the flicker of something in the window. He couldn't help but smirk to himself at the ridiculousness of the situation as a freckled face teenager seemed to come barging into his office through the fire escape.