Not a pretty sight. Not a pretty situation. But when you're a crime fighter, things seldom come pretty.
The name's Martinelli. Angelo Martinelli. Most people call me Angel. I haven't always wanted to fight crime. Some days I think it's easier just to write about it. (I've got a certain talent in that direction.) Saddle old Sherlock Holmes with an Italian mother and see how many cases he'd crack.
Then along comes a case like this, right in my own schoolyard. A batch of dodgy pies, a sliver of glass, a dead body in the tuckshop and suddenly old Mrs Tuck is given the boot. I smell a rat...