The Captain’s favorite detective had just staggered out of his office. This surprised me, favorites usually got the good hours, and the station clocks read four a.m. His shaky hands and creased shirt were a testament to length of the shift. Apparently it’d been a long night for both of us, not that I was feeling sympathetic. He wasn’t handcuffed to a desk.
The detective motioned my booking officer over. They proceeded to discuss me from inside the break room, giving me an excellent opportunity to eye my file on the officer’s computer screen. I couldn’t entirely suppress my smile. Trespassing.
I could see them from the window, wondering how to keep me after bail was posted. The detective leaned forward, I could see his finger tips pressed to the break room window. It must be frustrating, to think I was either lying or in danger, and know there was nothing he could do about either.
But as I said, I was far from sympathetic. He did his job well, I did mine better.
They emerged after a minute and the officer hung back, apparently ready to see the pro-detective work his magic on the girl they’d caught running around with revolutionaries.