It was a quarter to midnight and Vernon was trying to enjoy his fish and chips, but for the niggling awareness that having dinner this late was totally going to throw off his sleep. He was just finishing up when a gust of wind tugged the newspaper out of his grip; cursing under his breath he chased after it, rounding the corner of a back alley and snatching it up one-footed.

As he straightened up, he caught sight of two figures lumped on the ground. "Aw, shit," he hissed, subconsciously wiping his mouth as he wandered over. Two men, stock-still, lying in quasi-symmetry, handguns beside. Taking a deep sigh, Vernon dug out his phone, trudging back to the street. "Clancy. ... Yeah, yeah I know it's late. I got two bodies down by Kenny's ... No, the restaurant. ... You know, retro-diner style, great milkshakes but they burn the rings to a crisp. ... Yeah. ... Oh, you did? How'd she like it? ... Yeah, I'd love to take Nat one year but you know how Shawna loves a proper home feast. ... Haha, good luck! ... Yeah. ... Oh, yeah. ... Yep. Quick as you can, I'll call the station. Cheers."

Said call to the station later, Vernon shuffled back down the alley, inspecting the stiffs at a suitable distance. "Shit, Verne," he muttered, "You were s'posed to take this weekend off..."

"FREEZE! HANDS IN THE AIR!"

He turned about to find a pasty-faced constable brandishing his gun, legs braced and eyes widened like something out of a cartoon. "HANDSINTHEAIR!!" he screamed, trembling; Vernon casually noted his Taser™ was stowed securely in its holster, a thick layer of dust coating the grip.

"Look—" he started, raising his hands in more of a 'calm down' gesture than bona fide compliance.

"GETONTHEGROUND!! ISAIDGETTHEFUCKONTHEGROUND!!!" Rolling his eyes, Vernon sank to his knees—not fast enough as the constable ran over and practically punted him face-down. "Yeah, you fuckin' STAY down!" he growled, holstering his gun. "Officer Headley to all units, apprehended a suspicious black man outside Kenny's, uh, retro-diner style, great milkshakes but they burn the rings to a crisp, requesting backup, over!"

"Look, mate—"

"Shut the FUCK up!" he hollered, wrenching Vernon's arms behind his back as he wrestled with the cuffs. In his haste, the constable managed to lock them around each other; he threw them aside disgustedly before rifling through Vernon's pockets, rolling him over, and rifling through some more. "What's THIS?" he heaved, fumbling inside the inner jacket pouch, "Your KNIFE?"

"No, it's my—"

"DID I ASK YOU A QUESTION?!" he screamed. He pulled out a small leatherbound book and flipped it open. "Heeere we go!" he sneered, "Chief Inspector Vernon Solomon, Fifteenth Inner City.... Precinct..." The colour rapidly drained from the man's already-sickly face.

"God fucking dammit, Headley!" a voice shouted from the sidewalk, "Can't I go one fucking day without having to live through an Innoxia satire?!"

"S-Sarge!" he squeaked, "I thought—"

A policewoman with short chestnut hair and a severe bubblegum deficit trudged over to the scene as the disgraced constable rapidly picked himself up. "The day you think, Headley, I have a special sticker to mark the calendar. Get back to the station—we'll discuss this properly later." Headley swiftly beat his retreat as other officers arrived on the scene. "You alright, sir?" she helped Vernon to his feet, dusting him off.

"Yeah," he sighed, "Feels wrong to say I'm starting to get used to it."

"So what's the situation?"

"Two dead bodies, weapons on site. Clancy's on his way—"

A shout sounded from around the corner. "THIS IS A MURDER SCENE?!"

--- SEVERAL HOURS OF SECURING THE AREA LATER ---

"...Both shots were administered point-blank in the chest," explained the fair-haired pathologist, whose delightfully British accent will no doubt lend abadly-needed air of sophistication to this series; "I'll need to do a proper autopsy to be sure, but my expectation is they succumbed to rapid blood loss."

"When abouts d'you think they died?" asked Clancy, a young-yet-balding man who was trying for a Tacticool beard that was failing catastrophically.

"That's the funny thing," she replied, "Rigor mortis is too far gone for this to have happened overnight."

"The bodies were dumped?" mused Vernon.

"Unless the witness from two doors down was lying," said Clancy.

"I dunno, he seemed awfully specific about what he was doing to the van's tailpipe..."

"...Do I want to know?" muttered the pathologist (whose name is Debbie).

A swole man with a rugged beard dressed in a beige duster and matching fedora strode by. "Probably not," he stated, before continuing on.

IS THAT A MOTHERFUCKING JOJO REFERENCE?!?!

"What's more," Vernon continued, "These men didn't shoot each other."

"How can you tell?" quizzed his sergeant.

"Second man's left-handed. Wallet was in the left pocket."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but that's not a lot to go on."

--- SEVERAL HOURS OF PROCEDURAL INVESTIGATION LATER ---

"...So we can safely say Professor Devinshaw was left-handed," Clancy concluded, setting the forensic analysis on top of the interview notes with students and staff.

"Which means the gun that killed Urquhart was planted." Vernon drummed his fingers on the desk's edge. "The question is, why make it look like they killed each other? I mean, sure, red herring and all that, but this was deliberate. There's gotta be more to it..."

"I think Leines was lying when she said she couldn't think of a reason to kill Urquhart."

"Why's that?"

Clancy uncrossed his legs and leaned across the table, Leines' Twitter feed on his phone.

Can't believe Barry's dead! Who on earth would want to kill him??

Tho its pretty poetic, a good blue collar chap & an ivory tower egghead, opposite worlds, joined in death.

And @ Kenny's of all places! Retro-diner style, great milkshakes (but they burn the rings 2 a crisp)

Its like great food brings us together regardless of clan or creed, but u never know when a bite may b poison!

Why does art have to be so sad??? :(

Probably a bad time 2 mention I'm thinking of a new exhibition lol

Vernon stared at the screen for several moments. "Bring her in."