'A fourteen-karat, card-carrying idiot. How did you survive all those years with him as a partner?'
'Why are you in such a bad mood?' Harry asked. 'Your local grocery store run out of Sara Lee?'
Benedict pointed a finger in McGlade's face. 'You make one more fat joke . . .'
'And you'll do what? Eat me?'
Benedict got in McGlade's face, and I had to pull him away.
'Can you both please act like professionals?'
'Careful, Jackie, when he's done with me he may still be hungry.'
Benedict grabbed a fistful of Harry's chest hair and yanked out a patch. McGlade screamed, then went for his shoulder holster.
'Sit!' I ordered Harry. 'And back off, Herb.'
Harry glowered at Herb, then sat back down. Benedict rolled his eyes and walked over to the other side of the room, giving Harry his back.
'Here's the deal, McGlade. We know Rushlo's got an accomplice, and we believe it's a cop. We need a name.'
'No problem.'
'You have to play it cool in there, try to get him to open up. You've read the file.'
'Yeah. He's a mortician, and he likes his sex partners at room temperature. I'll get the info, Jackie. I'm good at this.'
Benedict chortled.
'You may scoff, Detective Butterball, but I've worked undercover many times before. In fact, I'm a master of disguise. Guess who I am now.'
Benedict took the bait and looked. Harry crossed his eyes and scrunched his neck down, giving himself a big double chin.
'I lost ten pounds on the donut diet,' Harry grunted.
Herb made a fist, looked at me, and then excused himself from the room.
'The guy's got no sense of humor, Jackie. He probably eats to compensate for an inadequate sex life.'
'I don't think that's Herb's problem. Let's get a level.'
I turned on the receiver, a black box the size of a car radio, and adjusted the volume. The room filled with the squelch of feedback.
'Take a few steps back, McGlade, and say something.'
McGlade walked near the door, singing about his lovely bunch of coconuts. He came in clear, lousy voice aside.
'The desk sergeant is going to put you in the holding tank. I want Rushlo to give up a name, but any other info you get out of him, I'll be recording. You know what he looks like?'
'I saw the mugs. He looks like a toad with a Lincoln beard.'
'Probably not wise to use that as your opening line. What's your approach going to be?'
Harry grinned, his smile as wide as a zebra's hindquarters. 'Trust me.'
I had a sudden need for an antacid.
I put the bracelets on Harry and led him to the holding area. After signing him in, I took off the cuffs and let the desk sergeant escort him to his cell.
When I returned to the office we'd appropriated, Herb was already there, signing a piece of paper. It was the authorization to give a prisoner a full body-cavity search. McGlade's name was on the top. I took the paper and crumpled it up.
'Herb, you're being childish.'
'Yeah. He'd probably just enjoy it anyway.'
The radio made a clanging sound. Cell door closing. I hit the Record button.
Footsteps. White noise. Shuffling.
'Hey man, got any smokes?' Harry's voice.
'No. Sorry.' Rushlo.
'I don't believe this shit. I shouldn't even be in here. She said she was sixteen, man. It was so worth the hassle, though. The younger the beaver, the softer the pelt, right? Right?'
'Yeah, I guess.'
A grunt, perhaps McGlade sitting down.
'You guess? I can tell you like sex, just looking at you. You've got that vibe. I bet you're a real lady-killer.'
Herb sighed and shook his head. 'I know people who work at the zoo, Jack. We could have sent a trained monkey in there instead.'
