He'd undone the lilac tie a few minutes ago and finally got around to open up the top few buttons on his dress shirt, as he leaned against the headboard of his bed, trying to settle down after an eventful day.
In the background, the TV was turned on, volume on low, as Steve hoped to slowly ease his mind into a calmer state.
Mike and he had parted ways after visiting the nativity scene, both of them feeling a certain sense of unease on whether or not the animal manure had come from there. Surely, it seemed like the obvious link at the time, but the longer they thought about it, the more it felt like a dead end, a lead gone cold.
Hence, he was planning on calling up the zoo tomorrow.
Whichever way the manure had gotten onto Sullenger's shoes, it seemed that perhaps Andrea was right. It could be a direct lead to what caused his death, because it was the sole thing that didn't fit his lifestyle whatsoever.
Stretching out on top of his already made bed, Steve crossed his hands behind his head, one eye on the bowl of sunflower seeds on his nightstand, the other one on the midnight news.
"As we wrap up a busy Friday after the Thanksgiving holiday, here is the latest on the brutal murder of talk show host and beloved humanitarian, Roy Sullenger."
Deciding to turn up the volume some, Steve got up and headed for the TV, then reached for a handful of sunflower seeds, before resuming his position on the bed.
"According to Police Chief John Conden, a team of investigators are working diligently to solve the mystery surrounding Sullenger's death. At this time, there are very few clues as to what led up to the attack and whether or not Sullenger knew his killer. It has however been confirmed, that the talk show host was killed after being struck in the head by a brick. Chief Conden urges the public to come forward if they have seen any suspicious activity around the 16th Street and Kansas corridor between three and 5AM this morning."
Sighing, Steve contemplated turning off the news altogether, realizing they weren't exactly helping his goal of calming down enough to get some sleep, but decided to give it a few more minutes.
"In other news, the DA's office has agreed to a lowered charge for robbery suspect Darius Johnson, who was previously charged with open murder in connection to the shooting death of police officer Jeremy Hendricks. Two weeks ago, Johnson broke into Dixon Jewelers on Market Street, where he was promptly confronted by the seasoned San Francisco patrol officer. Johnson claims that Hendricks used derogatory language and threatened to kill him, forcing him to open fire on the officer out of self-defense. Assistant District Attorney Gerald O'Brian told WZ03 News that due to a lack of evidence proving otherwise, there would be no further charges filed against Johnson except for armed robbery, and that the murder charge would be dropped completely."
"Aw, come on, Gerry…", Steve groaned, even though he knew about the decision well before the news did.
He also knew just how much it had undermined Mike's spirit to see an old friend brutally gunned down, and the killer getting away with not just a slap on the wrist, but also defamation of character.
Deciding that the news wasn't doing anything to calm his senses that night, he turned off the TV, and returned to his bed, staring at the ceiling illuminated by the lamp on the nearby nightstand.
As he slowly chewed away on his sunflower seeds, Steve wondered just how much a case like Hendrick's murder could affect somebody as deeply dedicated as Mike; and more importantly, would it be enough to turn the seasoned Lieutenant bitter? Surely, Mike hadn't been in the best of moods the past few days, which was nothing unusual over the stressful holiday season, but this year, there was something else he'd picked up on.
Even though Steve couldn't put his finger on it, he sensed a certain degree of distance that his best friend had put up between them, as if to shield him from whichever demons bothered him when it came to this case.
At first, he'd shaken it off as fatherly favoritism with Jeanie around, but it seemed to follow him all the way into the walls of the bullpen these days.
And worse yet, it caused a deep sadness in those caring blue eyes that Mike was unable to hide from his best friend, no matter how much he tried.
Whatever got him worked up about yet another man carrying a shield being gunned down in this city; it seemed to affect the Lieutenant harder than ever before.
And just like anything when it came to the glue that held things together, the solid rock in the turbulent waters that Mike symbolized for so many of them, the ripple effects could be felt by anybody in the Lieutenant's direct vicinity, most of all his best friend.