“Bad stuff, Nick. Harold Saponi has been murdered.”
“Are you kidding? My chief would never stand for it,” I replied.
“Ha! You know they’d love it. The CPD is all about diversity now and being politically correct. They’d be thrilled if you went on as their poster boy, The Gay Detective.”
I resisted for a while longer, but he was persistent, my chief was enthusiastic, and before long we were having a meeting with Mr. Phelps, general manager of the local cable channel. He felt there was a niche for the show and agreed to a one-season contract. Since I had to get to work for the three to eleven shift, we’d broadcast live as a morning show, right after Today and Good Morning America, once a week to start with, at ten o’clock in the morning.
I didn’t know much about hosting a show but Darren kept saying, “Interview like you were having a conversation with your best friend.”
What a trip, I thought to myself as Will brought us the check.
Just then my cell phone rang.
“Shit,” I said. It was my boss, Lieutenant Brodsky. He wouldn’t have bothered me unless it was urgent.