The Investigators (Badge of Honor 7)

“Really? Didn’t you think that the Locate, Do Not Detain meant ‘Do Not Detain’?”

“Sir?” Cronin asked. It was the first he’d heard of the Locate, Do Not Detain.

“Where’re Mr. Ketcham’s clothes?”

“I left them back there,” Harry said.

“Where’s ‘there,’ Harry?” Danny the Judge asked, a tone of impatience entering his voice.

“In the NIKE site,” Harry said. “I found this guy, wearing nothing but the overcoat, locked up in one room, and his clothes in another.”

“In the NIKE site? What the hell were you doing in the NIKE site?”

“I had a gut feeling that there was something wrong in there,” Harry said. “So I went and had a look, and there he was.”

Danny the Judge looked at Mr. Ketcham.

“Mr. Ketcham, what were you doing in the NIKE site?”

“I’m not going to say a word until I have a chance to consult with my attorney.”

“Yes, sir,” Danny the Judge said and turned to Harry. “You left his clothes there?”

“Yes, sir. I went through them until I found his wallet. But I thought . . .”

“We’ll be with you in just a minute, Mr. Ketcham,” Danny the Judge said and closed the door of Harry’s Chevrolet.

He signaled Harry to follow him back into the building.

“You know, Harry, right, that we have no authority inside that fence? It’s federal property?”

“Yes, sir.”

They entered the building, and Lieutenant Justice signaled to the trainee behind the glass window to open the door.

“Wait,” he said to Harry, then went through the door, where he removed the clipboard from its peg and read the Locate, Do Not Detain on Ketcham, Ronald R. again.

He first thought he should call his brother-in-law the deputy commissioner. There was no question that what he had in his hands was shortly going to come to the attention of the upper echelons of the Philadelphia Police Department.

But the Locate, Do Not Detain—more than a little unusually—specifically ordered that ChInsp. Coughlin, Insp. Wohl and/or Sgt. Washington be notified immediately.

It had been Lieutenant Justice’s experience that one got one’s ass a little less deep in a crack if one followed one’s orders to the letter, rather than doing what seemed like the logical thing to do.

He turned to the sergeant on duty.

“You know what kind of a car Cronin drives?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s a man in the backseat. Get him out of there. Put him, alone, in a detention cell. A clean detention cell. Take the cuffs off him and get him a couple of blankets. Don’t talk to him, and don’t let him near a telephone.”

“Yes, sir.”

Taking the Locate, Do Not Detain with him, Danny the Judge left the office and motioned for Detective Cronin to follow him up the stairs.

He took a copy of the Philadelphia Daily News from the sergeant’s desk, handed it to Cronin, and ushered him into the captain’s office.

“Read the newspaper, Harry,” he ordered. “And stay in here. And don’t talk to anybody.”