Lost phone

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 9.40A.M. Garda John Foley of the Avoca station notices a glint from the hard shoulder and pulls over his Traffic Corps jeep. If it is glass then he should remove it in case someone punctures. It is not glass. It is an IPhone. Garda Foley doesn't really care. He just wants to put in his shift. The back of the phone is badly scratched, the edges are beaten up, but somehow the screen is still working. This is as exciting as it gets around here. Last night it was a stolen car but really, nothing happens. Every day. 

Out of curiosity Foley clicks the button on the right and lo and behold the screen comes alive. Years of instant decisions and quick thinking have turned Foley into a human computer. In less than a second he recognises the face on the screen. Isn't that Tim Dobb's kid? With some girl he couldn't place... but definitely Dobb's kid. Wait a minute, wasn't it Dobb's car stolen last night? Foley thought it out. Thought hard. His thinking cap was on. He was putting two and two together and it definitely added up to four. 

He pocketed the phone, got back into his car and picked up the two-way radio. 

"Whisky Tango to Avoca station, going to take a run up to the Dobb's house with some evidence about last night's incident."

"Whisky Tango, that's a roger".


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