Page 90 of Fish in a Barrel
“Your life is too complicated,” Hardison grumbled. “I’d shiv the guy when he wasn’t looking and go on my merry way. Your boyfriend could get you out of it, no problem.”
Ellery’s eyes widened in outrage, but Jackson had been with Jimmy and Adele through a firefight in August. Jimmy had taken one in the calf and had just been put back on active duty in the past week, and here he was hanging his ass out for Jackson and Ellery again.
Jimmy was good people.
“Well, that’s why Ellery’s got the big brain,” Jackson said. “You and me, Jimmy, we’re footsoldiers. The big brain here—he’s got a plan.”
Jimmy grunted and started leading the two of them through the back hallways and offices of the station. “I hope his brain is big enough to get us out of this. We had to pretend we didn’t know who Tray Cartman was, which was hard given how many times he asked us, ‘Do you know who I fuckin’ am!’”
Jackson snickered. “Is it just me, or is that the easiest way to tell the world you’re a tool without shouting, ‘I’m a fuckin’ tool!’”
“Yeah, no. He should have skywritten ‘I’m a fuckin’ tool.’ Fewer people would have guessed.” At that point, they came to an intersection that Jackson guessed would lead either to the elevators or the stairs.
“We can take the elevators, Jimmy,” Jackson said softly. “Nobody has to know who we’re here for. Remember, we get called in to post bail all the time.”
“I hear ya,” Jimmy muttered, turning right. “It was mostly my pride talking.”
“Your leg bothering you?” Dumb question. Jackson had been shot before, and he’d been operated on before, and the leg hadn’tstoppedbothering the man.
“Yeah. It’s okay, though. Promised Adele I wouldn’t turn in my papers until she was ready. Dumb, isn’t it? I mean, I love my wife, but I wouldn’t want to do the job without Fetzer.”
Jackson reckoned the only reason Jimmy could even voice such a thing was that Fetzer was a woman. But he got it.
“I hear you,” he said. “Henry and I wanted to kill each other when we first met. Now he helps make the job fun.”
“Weird.” They came to the elevators, which were apparently relics from the Murder Room collection: cramped, stainless steel, and smelling of sweat, urine, and sanitized vomit. Jackson almost wished they’d taken the stairs.
They stepped in, nonetheless, and Jimmy saw their looks of distaste.
“Yeah. Most days, Adele and me take the stairs anyway. Better for my heart.”
“We’ll try the way down,” Jackson told him, getting it in a big way.
“Sadly, we won’t,” Ellery said sharply. He gave Jackson’s back a meaningful look, and Jackson grunted.
“It’s never gonna stop fuckin’ bleeding, is it?”
Jimmy chuckled. “I hear you looked real pretty stripping for the judge. Wish I coulda been there.”
Jackson scowled at him. “You’d better check your sources. If it was McMurphy or Goslar saying that, they have questionable choices in everything.”
Jimmy’s expression softened. “They weren’t the only cops in the room, Jackson. Some cops know what’s what.”
Oh. Well, that was nice to know. “Have them introduce themselves sometime,” Jackson told him. “It would be good to know we’re not all alone in the city.”
The elevator doors opened at that moment, so Jimmy didn’t have time to answer. Jackson and Ellery found themselves being walked down one more hallway—this one done in sort of a beige-rust—to the interview rooms.
Yes, they had the double-sided glass with the mirror on the suspect’s side, just like in the movies. They also had an intercom in the observation room.
“Have you read him his rights?” Ellery asked, looking to where Trey Cartman—impeccable in his suit and tie—glared daggers at Adele, who stood sentry at the door looking very, very bored.
“Yes. And he’s put in a call to his lawyer already. We figure you’ve got about twenty minutes with him before the lawyer gets here and we have to let him out on bail.”
“Good. If we can’t get the truth out of him in twenty minutes, we’ll have to get it out of Clive Brentwood.”
Jackson looked at him sharply. Ellery sounded like he knew something he hadn’t before, but he didn’t have time to ask him what he’d figured out.
“Jackson, I need you in the room,” Ellery said. “Officer Hardison, you’re taping this, right?”
