The next day around 5:00 pm the captain, Reacher and Buck went to Sherlock’s igloo plate. They got yet another surprise: the entire place was empty. Not a hair, not even a fabric, nothing!
The captain was anal as he sat on the front stoop and saw a coffin dodger stroll pass. “This is not like Sherlock. I don’t get it. I would think at the least he would leave it in the hands of a jury.
I will admit the prosecution would have compelling evidence, but who knows, maybe he could get a lighter sentence than we can imagine.” Sadly, he needed to be gleamed with jewel-like words of wisdom, and charmed with tidbits of wit and humor.
Like grim scorpions, Buck and Reacher sat down next to the captain, who was in the doldrums, with