He went straight to his desk, where he checked his e-mail and his voice mail for anything important that might have come in while he was gone.
He checked the white board that kept track of all important announcements and cases and their primaries to see if there was anything new or anything had changed.
He took a glance at the material in his inbox and the newspaper headlines to make sure he was aware of anything he needed to be aware of.
He mentally formulated his to-do list for the day.
Then he went into Captain Stottlemeyer's office and reported anything of note, got the instructions he'd need, and set to work on everything on his list.
Randy sank into his chair, sorting the last couple of papers that had come in as he'd left yesterday. Mostly reports - canvasses, statements - nothing really too useful on the Landell case. But then, he often argued, everything was useful in some way, eventually, right? It was the kind of methodology that had led him to walking bombed-out alleys for 20 minutes searching for one lone piece of evidence while the captain stood by the car waiting for him, a look between amusement and annoyance on his face.
He took a glance into the captain's office, hoping Stottlemeyer would be in a better mood, but understanding that his captain had a lot more to deal with than he did. As a lieutenant, Randy just supervised the detectives and did some of the fieldwork. He didn't have two kids and a wife who liked to remind him of all his domestic chores. He had a copy of Anchorman that had a day and approximately half an hour left on it.
Finally, he straightened his tie and walked into the office, knocking on the door frame as he entered. One more day down, right? he told himself.
"Morning, Captain." He held up the piece of paper between thumb and forefinger. "Official autopsy results. Definitely a homicide. Bullet went straight through his neck." Strange as that was...