When I returned from work yesterday evening, I found an anonymous note slipped under the apartment door. Wrestling with myself whether or not to turn the information over to Lts. Bertolli and Friday, or to investigate on my own and risk withholding evidence (and probably getting myself disbarred), I set out to talk to Dr. Harris. I don't know him well, but I trust his judgement. We had pizza and beer since he hadn't eaten, and he was painting models of a battlefield that were remarkable pieces of work.
Before I went to work this morning, I turned over the note to the Lieutenants.