Mark and I leaned over the square white table in McDonald"s with our legs wrapped around the red plastic chairs, enjoying each other"s company and sharing information about the Case of the Purloined Brains. I liked the way his mind worked, typical detective, trust no one, clickety-click, very observing, cut and dried, but caring just the same. “How"d a gentleman like you get interested in the force?” “I wanted to make a difference,” he said.
“That"s a tad old-fashioned.”
“I"m an old-fashioned gumshoe. Lots of footwork. Cops used to wear rubber-soled shoes so as to move quietly, like a thief. That"s why they called us gumshoes.” He was looking at his cell phone and his thumb was busy on the keypad. “Post-modern technology makes things a lot easier, though. A lot faster to get an ID on som
