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“Yes, sir,” Detective Cronin said. By now he had come to deeply regret having taken a look around the NIKE site.
Danny the Judge went back to the lieutenant’s office, consulted the Locate, Do Not Detain, and dialed a number.
“Dan Justice at South, Chief,” he said. “I hope I didn’t wake you up?”
“How are you, Danny? How’s Margaret?” Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin replied.
“Just fine, Chief. About that Locate, Do Not Detain on a man named Ketcham?”
“You found him?”
“Yes, sir. I just put him in a detention cell downstairs.”
“It said ‘do not detain,’ Danny,” Coughlin said.
“Chief, I think it might be a good idea if you came down here.”
“What happened, Danny?”
“A detective—Harry Cronin—found him wearing nothing but an overcoat in one of the NIKE sites.”
“They’re federal property,” Coughlin said. “Wearing nothing but an overcoat, you said?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You notify anybody? The feds?”
“No, sir. This is my first call.”
“Don’t call anybody else. No. Call Inspector Wohl and Sergeant Washington—you have their numbers—put the arm out for them, if necessary, and ask them to meet me there as soon as they can get there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I mean, don’t call anybody else, Danny. And don’t let Mr. Ketcham call anybody until I get there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t let the detective—Cronin?—”
“Yes, sir.”
“—talk to anybody, or get away.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Inspector Wohl,” Peter said to the telephone, aware that despite his best intentions, he had not been able to answer the official telephone beside his bed soon enough to prevent Amelia A. Payne, M.D., who was sleeping with her head on his chest, from waking.
“Dan Justice, sir, at South Detectives.”
“How are you, Danny?” Wohl replied. “What’s up?” Amy pushed herself off him, sat up, and looked down at him. Inspector Wohl was not sure whether it was in annoyance or simple female curiosity.
“We located Ketcham, Ronald R., sir,” Danny the Judge said.
“Great! Where is he?”
“In the detention cell downstairs, Inspector.”
“Danny, that was a Locate, Do Not Detain!”
