I park in a legal spot on Bryant St. and go inside the municipal building. Passing through security, I take the elevator upstairs to the correct room, announce myself at the front desk, and sit on a bench to wait.

“Ms. Saffron?”

I look up to see a tall, handsome guy, thirty-ish — totally not what I expected. “That’s me.”

“I’m Detective Chen. Come on in.”

We go into a large open office space filled with desks, which seems surprisingly quiet, maybe because it's the weekend. Detective Chen takes a file from the top of an overflowing inbox, and sits down.

“Have a seat,” he offers. “So, you witnessed this murder?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice as squeaky as the old chair I sit in. &l...

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