<div align="center"><strong>GM POST</strong></div><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://putrapc.com.my/wp-content/uploads/telephonist.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Tara Symmonds<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>UPD Emergency Call Centre<br/><br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Monday 4th May, 06:11<br/><br/><strong>Doing:</strong>Answering a 911 Call<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>NPC Patrol Car.<br/><hr/><br/><br/>Tara Symmonds was at the end of her shift. Her job was generally quite boring. Most calls she got were hoaxes or people with their toes stuck in the bath faucette. About the most exciting one she'd had recently was from some kids who were messing about down by the river when one of them had fallen in.  Kid was lucky to be alive the amount he'd been drinking! She was on night shift for the next two days, then she had two days off and went to day shift. Tara preferred night shift, because it was quieter. Her shift ended in a little under an hour, and she could go home and feed her cat, then slip into bed with her girlfriend for a while.<br/><br/><em>BZZZZZT</em>The buzzer cut across her erotic fantasies and she looked up. The automatic trace was working to ID the caller already, and so she flipped the switch to connect her headset to the outside line. "Nine one one, what is your emergency?"<br/><br/>"Oh, hello..." The voice was female and old. "I'm not sure if this is an emergency or not..."<br/><br/><em>Great,</em>Tara thought,<em>one of those. Probably she's dropped her door keys down the toilet or something...</em>"That's okay ma'am, tell me what the problem is".<br/><br/>"Well, it's my neighbour across the street. Such a lovely young man. He works at one of the packing plants. Well his front door is standing wide open. Has been for the past half hour. I only noticed it because I was watching for the paper boy. That boy is such a little vandal. He throws newspapers at my plant pots, he's deliberately trying to break them. You should have him arrested!"<br/><br/>"Ma'am? Was that the purpose of your call, to complain about the paperboy?"<br/><br/>"What? Oh no, although you should have him arrested, little vandal. No, no, it's the young man across the street, such a pleasant young man. He's left his front door standing open for well over half an hour now. I just thought it was odd, you know?"<br/><br/>"Right, well it's probably nothing, but we'll send a patrol car over. Please could I have your name and address please ma'am?"<br/><br/>"My name and... Oh right, yes of course. My name is Myrtle Cassile, my address is two two four, Pacific Way. And the young man lives at two three seven, right across the street".<br/><br/>"Thank you, Ma'am. I'll send a patrol car over to investigate".<br/><br/>"Good. And if they catch that paperboy so much the better! Little vandal!"<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/49/28/e5/4928e5c2253396ea6ed8d29258386a15.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Patrol Sgt Hank Amhurst<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Arriving outside 237 Pacific Way<br/><br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Monday 4th May, 06:38<br/><br/><strong>Doing:</strong>Investigating.<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>UPD Homicide Squad. (That's your cue boys and girls!)<br/><hr/><br/>"Attention any patrol in the vicinity of Pacific Way, report of a<acronym title="open door">ten-ninety four</acronym>at number two three seven, Possible<acronym title="crime in progress">ten-thirty one</acronym>, possible<acronym title="burglary">ten-fifteen</acronym>. Silent approach recommended".<br/><br/>"This is two two, I am in vicinity, responding". Sergeant Amhurst finished his coffee and popped the paper cup into the litter bin, slipped back into the police car, nudged it into gear and drove carefully the six blocks to the residential district that included Pacific Way, turned into the road and cruised slowly down the street. There. Number two three seven. No vehicle on the driveway. Chances are the owner had driven off in a hurry and not realised he hadn't shut the door properly. Amhurst pulled up outside on the street and walked up the drive, noting that it was clear of weeds, the front yard was tidy but not fancy. A small oil puddle indicated that the resident's vehicle was probably in need of some work.<br/><br/>Amhurst didn't want to be a detective. He didn't actually see the need. He was good enough at his job. He tapped on the door. "Hello, anyone here?"<br/><br/>No answer. Just as he thought, the owner hand driven off leaving the door open. He was about to radio in a<acronym title="contact owner/keyholder">ten-forty</acronym>when something caught his eye. The front room of the house had been ransacked. Things were scattered on the floor, some things smashed, others strewn randomly. His hand went to his weapon. "POLICE! IS ANY ONE HERE?" He stepped cautiously through the door, weapon ready, just in case. And that was when he smelled it.<br/><br/>Blood.<br/><br/>It was coming from the back of the house, where the kitchen was. He followed his nose and stopped short. "Oh my god!" He got on the radio, and called in a dead body, possible homicide...