I was never a big fan of any of the cop shows, except Hill Street Blues. Especially not that NYPD Blue style. The balding guys with cheesy moustaches, brown suits and a clipboard…acting all tough with a New York accent as they grill the crime suspects in a dimly lit room.
Well, let’s just change the scenery a little bit. From a dimly lit interrogation room to a slightly better lit hospital room. New York accent to Pittsburgh accent. Crime suspect to crime victim, at least until proven otherwise.
I sat at his bedside with a boatload of lidocaine and a #11 scapel blade. Since the poor guy survived the ordeal of being shot twice with a shotgun, the least I could do was try to pop out as many of the pellets as I could easily get. Not the type of souvenier most people want to take home from what he thought would be a “gentleman’s argument.” All of it over a girl.
“She’s not even that good looking,” he snickered at the detective.
It was better than being a fly on the wall.