Part of me thinks he's a hardened old cop who's close to retirement, who's been following a tricky case for months with no leads, he's surly, he gruff, he cuts corners, but god damn it he gets the job done.
And here he is this morning, he's just rolled out of bed with an empty bourbon bottle, he arrives at work two hours late, the cheif rides his ass, but he blows him off. He grabs a disgusting cup of stale coffee and tops it off with a drizzle of whiskey and blunders into his messy, ash smelling office.
He grabs a fax off of the machine about some two-bit punk who held up a liquor store in Queens and slumps back in his chair and sips at his putrid brew. But any second now Officer Danbury is going to burst in; he's a got a lead in the Southside Strangler's case. It will mean staking out the old delapidated dockside warehouse all night, but then it wasn't like he had anyone to go home to. Mary had left him again that week and the landlord was near busting down the door to collect the last three months rent.
The saga continues.......