[center][h1][color=8882be]Ashley Gallagher[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h2][color=8882be]The Home of a Star[/color][/h2][/center]


[i]“What are you thinking, partner?”[/i]

Ashley had had enough of the wretched starlet and her palace. So much so it was interfering with his ability to investigate the woman fully. He was aware of this, and ashamed, but he reckoned he’d done all he could. No star would risk her career for a few brutal murders, and no frail, angelic woman could have overpowered Smith the way he clearly had been. 

A sharp pounding had taken up between his ears and the only cure was tucked away in a flask sitting lonely on his nightstand. Cal clearly had no intent on being useful either, be it due to Danielle’s beauty or whatever it was that had had the man on edge since the club. 

With a significant effort to keep the frustration from his tone, Ashley spoke. “Thank you for the lead, Danielle. I wish you great success in the future, may it not be marred by an untimely and murderous end— or worse, a toxic disposition.” He grimaced and spun on a heel, out of the door before he had to hear whatever reptilian response she had. 

He didn’t bother to wait for Cal, let the man gawk a little longer or, god forbid, do some detective work. 

When he hit the sidewalk, the fight left him. He swore. He had acted downright unprofessional the entire interview. Of course she hasn’t given them anything, he gave her the opposite of a reason to trust him. 

Collapsing his weight against the wall, he fumbled for a cigarette with a shaking hand. What the hell was he supposed to act like? His best friend and partner died not even twenty-four hours prior.

He took a long, slow drag, the burn of the smoke against the back of his throat welcoming like the embrace of an old friend. This case had the upper-hand, it had a vice like grip around his throat and was slowly forcing the air from his windpipe, leaving him suffocated and light headed. If he were not a man of immense pride and ego, he’d ask to be taken off of it, but the mere idea filled him with enough anger to snap back to reality. He collected himself and walked to the car, waiting for his new partner with the impatient tap of a wing-tipped toe.