things that I had loved about her. The young uniformed policeman who had opened the front door murmured apologetically. ‘It’s just a domestic, sir,’ he said. ‘Apparently the lady’s former partner has been cutting up rough. They haven’t actually seen him, but the tyres are flat on her sister’s car. That yellow Beetle outside? Freshly slashed, looks like. But we don’t even know if he did it. I told her you’re Homicide and not domestic. She wouldn’t listen.’
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