After finding the appropriate buzzer, I pressed once and waited, half-hoping he wasn't home.
'Harry's House of Love. You buying or selling?'
'I'm gagging. Lieutenant Jack Daniels, Violent Crimes. Buzz me in, McGlade.'
'What's the magic word?'
'Now.'
'Nope. Try again.'
'Open the door, McGlade.'
The door buzzed, but only for a second. By the time my hand reached the knob, it had stopped.
'McGlade...'
'When did you become a lieutenant, Jackie?'
Harry was the only person who called me Jackie.
'The nineties. Now you can either buzz me in or I can shoot the lock off and then arrest you for destruction of property.'
He buzzed, but only for a millisecond like before. I was ready for it this time, and pulled the door open.
The lobby was dim, the carpet worn, the heat barely on. I saw a roach scurry along the wall and blend into the peeling paint.
Harry was on the fifth floor, and since I hadn't brought my cane, I took the elevator. When I located his apartment, the door was already open. He was standing in the middle of his den, pulling on a pair of pink paisley boxer shorts.
'Normally I don't dress until later in the day, but I don't want you getting any ideas.'
He was as I'd remembered. A little older. A little chubbier. But he still had the same three-day beard, the same unkempt shock of brown hair, the same twinkling brown eyes that always seemed to be laughing at you.
'Christ, Jackie, you look old. Aren't they paying you enough to afford Botox?'
Exactly as I remembered.
I took a step inside and looked around. It was a pigsty. Laundry and garbage and junk covered every inch of the floor. Empty cans and wrappers and moldy socks and sour food were strewn around in such abandon that it seemed like someone had blown up a landfill.
'Jesus, McGlade. Do you ever clean up?'
'Nah. I pay a girl to come in once a week. But every time she comes over we just hump the whole time and she never has a chance to clean anything. Want to go into the kitchen, have a seat?'
'I'm afraid I'd stick to something and never be able to leave.'
'No need to be rude,' Harry said. Then he belched. I closed the door behind me and noticed the aquarium against the wall. That must have been where the smell was coming from. Moldering fish corpses and chunks of multicolored rotting things bubbled around in the brown water, buoyed by the tank aerator. I watched a corn dog float by.
'Some kind of fish disease wiped out my whole gang within twenty-four hours,' McGlade explained.
'There's a shocker.'
'I like it more now. There's always something new growing, and I save a bundle on fish food.'
I pulled my eyes away.
'I'm here to talk about Theresa Metcalf. She was a client of yours. Back in April.'
'Got a picture? I can't place the name.'
Theresa's roommate had given us some snapshots, but I'd forgotten them back at the station. Instead, I handed McGlade one of Theresa done up by the makeup artist, with the digitally added eyes. It was as close to lifelike as we could get it.
'Yuck. Ugly.'
'She's dead.'
'Then she'd smell bad too.'
'Do you remember her?'
'Not offhand. No. But then I have a hard time remembering last week. How long has it been, Jackie?'
'Not long enough.'
McGlade raised an eyebrow.
'You're not still mad at me, are you?'
I took the picture back, careful not to touch his hand.
'If you don't feel like cooperating...' I began.
'You'll drag me in. Can't it wait? I was watching the new Snow White DVD, the director's cut with the extra footage. The gang-bang scene is next.'
I frowned, wondering how to play it. I needed the information, but taking McGlade in would mean having to
