[ IP ] Call it in .

The day was just beginning and already Sgt. Lacan could feel himself getting agitated with Munroe. 
 
 `` Our victim caught two from the street. First one in the collar bone, second one spun him around, right about his eye socket here,'' Munroe held his pencil just above the victim's eye. 
 
 `` You got a make on the gun?'' Lacan asked staring into the east. 
 
 `` Nothing special, sir. Parabellum from the looks of entry. Three others are probably in the car, sir.'' 
 
 Lacan sidesteps a faded spark plug on the ground, `` Drop the sirs, Munroe. What do we have in the trunk?'' 
 
 `` Religious pamphlets, sir. Sorry.'His Royal Presence Baptist Church.' No address.'' 
 
 `` No tire tracks, so our shooter was on foot. Left the car and our victim's wallet, watch, expensive looking shoes,'' Lacan says motioning to dead man whose chin is resting on his chest. 
 
 Lacan holds the victim's wallet. No visible ID and only a few hundred dollars in small bills. The victim's coat in the backseat has no tailor tag and the registration in the car is for a one Ethel Ramirez in Pismo Beach. Nothing adds up, Lacan thinks while coming up with excuse for missing his son's graduation from High School. Of all the days. 
 
 `` Sir, I've seen these pamphlets before. Over in Broward County. Call it in, sir.'' Munroe says, but catches himself and swallows while looking down at his shoes. 
 
 `` If it's okay with you, Munroe, then I'll do just that.''
