"My name's Rather. I'm a dick."

Another Iowahawk mystery:

Thornburgh peeled off his tortoise shell glasses and gave me a blank stare.

"We've been through this several times now, Rather," he sighed. "The evidence was fake. Forgeries. Made up from whole cloth. There is no Lucy Ramirez. The entire TxANG case is closed."

"So," I pondered, "you're thinking we need to set up a stakeout in Crawford?"

"Rather," he bellowed, "The Guard letters were on Starbucks stationery, and originally discovered in the trunk of Mary's '99 Hundai. Military officers do not address each other as 'Dude' and 'Bro.' Mary FedExed them to Terry McAuliffe six times for spell checking."

"No speaky Esperanto, Commissioner! What's your angle?"

"You ran the story seven days before contacting document experts, and when you did, they were recruited from a methadone clinic. You spent $47,000 of network money on a schizophrenic man who said he could build a steam-powered word processor and a time machine."

I planted my hands on the desk, and leaned over into Thornburgh's face.

"I see where this is all going, Commissioner. You're in on it too! You're just going to sit there and take it when there is a criminal in high office who stole over 20 XBox systems from Texas National Guard!"

"That's enough, Rather," he growled. "Turn in your microphone. You're suspended."

"Too late Thornburgh. I'm suspending myself, at full pay."

I slammed the door behind me. It looked like this investigation would be strictly freelance.

Thanks for the tip to Phil and Nick. And thanks to Iowahawk for mentioning me.