Phineas Troutt sat down in the lone wooden chair and smiled patiently at me.
Herb gave me a nudge. 'This the guy that broke into your apartment?'
I frowned. 'No. His name is Phineas Troutt, two T's. Pull his record.'
I closed the door behind me and shook my head at the legion of cops sitting behind the one-way glass. Then I turned my attention to my pool partner. 'What's going on, Phin? Have you been following me?'
'I saw you on the news. You're purposely trying to get the Gingerbread Man to come after you.'
'What does this have to do with you?'
Phin shrugged. 'I had some free time, thought I'd see what your setup was. You've got three teams of two guys, each pulling eight-hour shifts. They hang back no farther than two hundred feet, and couldn't be more conspicuous if they tried.'
The room smelled like smoke and sweat and desperation. Phin, however, seemed relaxed and even amused.
'You still haven't told me why you were following me.'
'I figured the killer would make another try for you, but he'd see your surveillance just like I did. So I hung back to see if anyone was doing what I was doing and watching your surveillance team.'
I still didn't know his angle, but I felt a tingle of excitement.
'Did you notice anything?'
He nodded.
'Two cars and four trucks, all with solitary male drivers. All acting suspicious. I wrote down the makes, models, and plates.'
'Where did you write it down?'
'We're friends, right, Jack?'
I frowned. Why did he suddenly get coy?
'I'd like to think so, Phin.'
'And friends do each other favors.'
'So this is a favor?'
'Sure. I don't like seeing my friends get hurt. I'm sure you feel the same way.'
Now it made perfect sense.
'You're in trouble, aren't you?'
'Possession. Cocaine. Trial is coming up next month. I'll do time.' Phin scratched his bald head, an obvious ploy to make me aware of his cancer. 'And the time they want me to do, I don't have left.'
I didn't answer. The silence dragged. I knew the DA, and the Gingerbread Man case was weighty enough that he'd trade his wife and mother for an arrest. But I disliked bargaining with criminals, even helpful ones who played pool with me.
'I'll be right back.'
I left the interrogation room and met up with Herb in the hall. He handed over Phin's rap sheet.
There were several charges for assault, two for attempted murder, one for manslaughter, and two for murder in the second degree. No convictions -- in every case charges were dismissed, dropped, or he was acquitted.
'You busted this guy once?'
'Yeah. He was jumped by some gang-bangers. Killed two of them, put three more in the hospital. Self-defense. Phin wasn't even armed.'
The other victims of Phin's crimes had case numbers after their names; they all had criminal records as well.
The single nonviolent crime on his sheet was for the cocaine. This was recent, only five months old. The amount was substantial enough for the DA to charge him with dealing rather than straight possession.
I went back into room C. Phin had his legs crossed and looked completely at ease.
'What do you do for a living, Phin?' I asked.
'I get by.'
'By selling drugs?'
He made a face. 'I don't sell drugs.'
'You were arrested with thirty grams of cocaine in your possession.'
'I wasn't selling it.'
Herb snorted. 'That was for personal use?'
Phin sized up Herb. 'Morphine makes you sloppy. The coke helps with the pain and I can still stay alert.'
'Where'd you get the coke?' Herb asked.
Phin ignored Herb and focused on me. 'Are we helping each other, or are we going to keep pointing
