text: Officer Nicholson watched the crazy man run around the blood-splattered crime scene, inspecting everything but the dead body in the centre of the room. This crazy man was apparently the best detective on this side of the force. Officer Nicholson was told that the detective was a little eccentric in his methods, and that he rarely ever worked a case with another officer due to his eccentricity, but Nicholson was all for whatever crap the detective had to pull to solve the case. What he was not ready for was an early 30-something adult man to start chatting to a lamp. “Lamp, how are you doing? Haven’t seen you since we busted your dirty rat of a brother. Yeah, his bulb isn’t so bright anymore,” the aforementioned detective said, as if he were casually making small talk about the weather to an old friend, and not speaking to an upright floor lamp, “Now, Lamp, I like you, I really do, but you have to tell me what you know about this. You come across as an honest guy, but something about you seems shady. I got a family man lying dead on the floor in his own blood, what am I going to tell his wife and children? I need your help, Lamp.” “Good-cop-bad-cop routine,” a voice behind Nicholson quietly whispered. Nicholson jumped, turning around to find that the voice belonged to none other than the chiseled, salt-and-pepper haired head of his superior. “Kowalski,” Nicholson replied in greeting, turning his head to look at the man who was his boss. “What do you mean good-cop-bad-cop routine?” “It’s his way of doing things. Cliché, I know, but it gets the job done.” Nicholson looked back to man that was still talking to the lamp, “Are you su-” “Don’t even try to frame Window over there, he has an alibi!” There was a pause. “You son of a bitch, what did you say about my wife?!” Suddenly, the lamp-talking detective grabbed the lamp and threw it against the wall, hard enough to crack the bulb a little but not hard enough to break it. Nicholson stood still, unable to comprehend what he’d just seen. A man, who was among the best and most trusted detectives in the city, had just thrown a lamp against a wall because the lamp had ‘commented’ on his wife. How the hell had this man not been put under disciplinary action yet? A number of questions flooded the mind of the junior detective. He chose the simplest one. “He has a wife?” Kowalski nodded, “I can see how it’d surprise you, but yes. From what our friend over there has told me, she’s a lovely sweet woman.” “Huh”, Nicholson replied, “I’ll take the initiative and assume that she didn’t marry him for his charming personality and dry wit.” Kowalski barked out a laugh, “You might be right.” Before Nicholson could air any more of his numerous questions about this whole situation, the seemingly mental man walked up to Kowalski and proclaimed, “It was the delivery driver. Lamp finally confessed that he’d seen him stab our victim over there, and I found a small drop of salsa, most likely a bit that had dropped onto our murderer’s hands as he was delivering the food.” The crazed man walked out of the room calmly, not saying another word. The door hitting the frame was the only action in the room, until Nicholson started to stare at Kowalski. Kowalski shrugged, “What can I say? He may be insane, but he’s never wrong and he’s actually quite the charming fellow when he’s not talking to the furniture.” Kowalski turned and walked out of the room, following after the eccentric detective. Nicholson shut his mouth that was gaped open in surprise, and hurried after Kowalski and the psychotic detective, eager to know more about his new partner.