When he'd gotten the call at 2:30 in the morning, he knew it had to be something big. Locals didn't ask him to advise on a case unless they'd run out of options, and a request at that hour had to mean the options never showed up in the first place. He'd have to cancel the weekend trip to the lake with Suzanne, and that might be the last straw for her. But you didn't become the world's best pizzatective by kowtowing to some broad when a case was hot 'n ready.
Rubbing the gin-soaked sleep out of his eyes, he pulled on pants and assembled his equipment. Pizza, of course, was essential. So was the Windex, to clean up from when he'd inevitably drop the pizza. Extra pizza, just in case. He'd learned that lesson the hard way tracking the Allentown Slasher in '95. Last was his trusty leather pizzatective jacket - the only thing he knew could stand up to pizza and Windex.
The day and the crime were new. The pizza wasn't. "Let's ride," he whispered to yet another piece of spare pizza.