Cool

At left, a sweater.

It's cool here. Didn't crack 70 today. Almost August.

I put a lot of criminals in wool. I get blood on their clothing. I make them hide.

Shoes, the bottom trouser leg where it brushes the ground, their sleeve when they roll the victim over, their sweater when it sprays.

I'm not sure why I'm stuck on the physical transference of evidence. Perhaps it is because I abhor "clean" crime.

I'm the sort of fellow who is usually doing two things at one in my vocation. Thus, I have shirts in which I will not eat, drink coffee, or work tn the white board while wearing. I cannot be trusted to keep them pristine.

Crime is a messy business. Even in the best planned action, physical evidence remains. I don't mind having my criminals thwart the detection of their crimes. I cannot stand it when I read a story with a serious crime and the evidence evaporates.

I threw a book out once when the author had the tough guy shoot two people in an elevator with a .45. Repeatedly.  The killer got out and walked into the street as if nothing happened.

You put five bullets in a guy with a 1911 from under five yards, you're wearing some of him home.

I've found socks tonight. I'm going to have to find a sweater.

Dry cleaners should figure more in our works of mayhem. They're "criminal helper." If you've picked up you dry cleaning lately, you also know precisely which side of the crime equation you're on...

Stay clean.