“Oh my God, that’s good. That’s good. Listen, stay there a moment, I’d like to give you something. Just stay there a sec, I’m getting you a tip.”

“Oh, really, that’s not necessary,” Trimble said.

“No no, just give me a minute, I’ll get you something for your trouble, you did a wonderful thing, a terrific thing,” he said, his voice fading back into the room. Trimble got ready. He took a step back from the door, so he’d be able to take a run at it. Then we heard the deadbolt slip back, the chain slide off its track, and then the door began to open.

“And if they come back, there’s more where this came from—”

Trimble hit the door like a freight train, propelling Eddie back into the room and onto the floor. The door must have caught his toes, at least on one foot, because he was already holding them in both hands, screaming, as we came in.

Trimble had his gun out and pressed up against Eddie’s forehead. “Stop your whimpering.”

“My toes, man! Oh my God, my toes! They’re all broken! You’ve broken my toes!”

“We’ll call a toe truck,” Trimble said, glancing at me and grinning. “I haven’t used that joke since I was six.”

Eddie eyes were squeezed shut, and he was rocking back and forth on his butt, still holding on to his foot. He was wearing nothing but a pair of green boxers with a tear in the crotch, and I looked away, not really interested in a peek at his luggage. He was thin and kind of bony, his back was splattered with pimples and blotches, and his short, curly hair was wet, like he’d been in the shower recently.

“Come on, Eddie, pull it together,” Trimble said. “We got a lot to talk about.”

He opened his eyes, looked at Trimble, then at me. He recognized me, but couldn’t remember exactly who I was.

I helped him out. “We met yesterday, at the auction.”

Mayhew could figure out why Trimble was here, but my presence was a mystery. “What, what are you doing here? Why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m doing a feature on a day in the life of a bad cop, and Detective Trimble here kindly allowed me to tag along.”

“Get up,” Trimble said, grabbing Eddie under the arm and hauling him onto the bed. It was a nice-size room, with a sitting area and a set of sliding glass doors that led out to a balcony.

“I don’t think I can walk,” Eddie said. “You’ve crippled me. You’ve crippled me for life.”