Chapter 7.

Marian Hardy marched into the robbery homicide room with a wadded up tissue stuffed up each

nostril to staunch the flow of blood from his broken nose.

His eyes were starting to puff in a way that suggested each of them would be black soon enough,

and it only contributed to his miserable hang dog expression.

Ted Holme had tried not to smile when he saw Hardy, but he mostly failed.

He shook his head, examined the copy of the warrant our client had provided us with,

and asked our prisoner to identify himself.

He wasn't easy to understand with the padding up his nose,

but he seemed to be insisting that his name was Martin Henderson. He wasn't easy to understand with the padding up his nose, but he seemed to be

insisting that his name was Martin Henderson. Jack reached into Hardy's jacket pocket, despite his

protestations and squirming, and came out with a wallet which he handed to Sergeant Holm.

You can't do that, Hardy wailed. Technically correct. His wallet fell out of the car, Jack deadpanned. But, Hardy

protested, astonished at the sheer audacity of this lie. I guess we better make sure that it's

his, Ted said, with a non-committal shrug and produced an identity card. Gosh, Jack, this card

says Mary and Hardy on it, but your prisoner says that's not him.

I don't know what to tell you, Sergeant, Jack said, mystified at this turn of events.

This is the only guy I've had in the trunk for days.

Ted Holm raised an eyebrow.

Why was he in the trunk, he asked?

For his own safety,' Jack said seriously.

"'Prisner safety is a very important thing,' Ted said,

...