“One would think.” Ron looked down again at the paperwork on his desk. As a Rules & Regs copper, the world of old clothes and the type of officers it attracted generally rubbed Ron the wrong way. He also very much disliked Ricky Jergensen personally.
“So what do you want me to do with this guy, Mike?” Jergensen asked.
“Where is he now?”
“In the holding room over there.” Jergensen pointed toward the long, narrow hallway where prisoners were held pending further investigation when they weren’t in the cells. As he did so, the sleeve of his tattered jean jacket rode up to reveal the series of recently acquired tattoos.
“Well,” Ron began, taking a deep breath in an attempt to suppress his immediate distaste for what he was sure would follow, “I suppose we ought to call Detective Sergeant Bl
