Solve the murder first.
Deal with Wu-Tin.
The heart could wait.
Through the glass doors he went, where the man at the desk eyed him with a wary look.
“May I help you?”
“A client of mine is here…he’s been arrested.”
Jimmy read the nametag. Jones. Kinda boring, fit with the way he spoke. “You a lawyer?”
“I work for his law firm.”
“Which means you’re not. I can smell a private detective like a dog could.”
“Tell Detective Selfridge that Jimmy Mc—”
“No need, I can see for myself,” Selfridge said with a tug of his mustache. “Figured you’d show up.”
“That’s what makes you a detective.”
“Jones, I’ll take this from here. McSwain, follow me.”
Jimmy was nothing if not compliant, and so he trailed back along the corridors into the same interrogation room he’d visited just a few days ago.
