“Timmy, I just can’t take the chance,” Charley said, sounding genuinely sorry.
He unfastened Calhoun’s belt, unbuttoned the flap, pulled down his zipper, and pulled first his trousers and then his shorts down over his hips.
“Back in there,” he ordered.
Calhoun, his trousers at his ankles, backed into the stall and finally managed to lower himself onto the toilet.
“How am I supposed to wipe myself?” Calhoun asked.
“When you’re finished, I’ll uncuff you to do that,” Charley said.
It became evident to Officer Calhoun that Detective McFadden had no intention of closing the door, but instead was leaning on the frame, obviously intending to watch him.
“You’re not even going to close the door?”
“Timmy, I just can’t take the chance,” Charley said. “If I was in your shoes, I think I’d eat my gun.”
“Maybe that’s what I should have done when I saw the cars outside.”
“Too late for that, now, Timmy. You’re going down.”
“Shit!”
In Detective McFadden’s professional judgment, Officer Calhoun was about to cry. Which meant that he had swallowed the good cop-bad cop routine hook, line, and sinker. He hadn’t thought it would be this easy, but on the other hand, Calhoun had never had a reputation for being very smart, just a good guy.
“What are you going to do, Timmy?” Charley asked sympathetically.
Calhoun looked up at McFadden. There were tears in his eyes.
“What the hell can I do?”
“Timmy, how the hell did you ever get into this mess?” Charley asked. “Didn’t you even think what would happen to Monica when you were caught?”
“We weren’t supposed to get caught!” Calhoun said indignantly. “That fucking Phebus said there was no way in the fucking world we were going to get caught!”
Bingo! Former Sergeant Anton C. Phebus! I’ll be damned!
“You’re going to have to give them Phebus, Timmy. Before somebody else does. It’s not like you’d be ratting on another cop. He’s not a cop anymore, he’s a lawyer, an assistant D.A., for Christ’s sake! And he got you into this.”
“We weren’t supposed to get caught,” Calhoun said. “Shit!”
“What we’re going to do now, Timmy, is get on the phone to Sergeant Washington, who is my boss, and a good guy. You’re going to tell him that as soon as we get to Philadelphia you’re going to give him Phebus. He already knows about Phebus, of course, but with a little luck, you’ll be giving him Phebus before anybody else on the Five Squad does. That should help you.”
Calhoun nodded.
“I’ll be right back, Timmy,” Charley said.
“Where are you going?”
Charley didn’t reply.
Detective Martinez was leaning on the wall just outside the men’s room.
“Anything?”
“You remember good old Sergeant Anton C. Phebus?”
“Yeah. What about him?”