On the way out, we said thanks to the uniform at the front door. I slipped twenty bucks into the guy’s jacket pocket without him knowing. I figured he’d earned it. He’d probably caught himself a night shift or two by being so helpful to us. Just then, a cab pulled up out in the street. The rear doors opened and out stepped the two Army CID agents we’d met earlier that morning, Goddard and Mallet. ‘What the hell are they doing here?’ Masters enquired under her breath. ‘Beats me. Let’s ask them.’ ‘Hey,’ Masters said as Mallet ambled towards her. ‘Hey,’ he replied. ‘How you doin’?’ ‘Oh, you know, taking in the sights,’ she said. ‘How are you doin’?’ ‘What she means is what the fuck are you doing here?’ I translated, keeping it light. Mallet blinked, those little watermelon-pit eyes of his all but disappearing, the cogs in his brain jammed momentarily. ‘Well, y’all know how it is . . .’ he drawled when things started to turn again. ‘For all we know, there could be a dead body in a cupboard you haven’t thought to look in.
