“Hi, Sammy,” I called out, as we drew near. “What the heck’s going on?”

“Hi, Meg,” he said. “I’m sorry, but you can’t come in here now.”

I decided to play dumb.

“Drat,” I said. “You guys would have to be making a big raid on this dump just when I need to take Timmy home.”

I indicated Timmy, who was straining toward the nearest police car, repeating “ ’Leese car! ‘Leese car!”

“Timmy?” Sammy said, looking down at the preoccupied toddler. “He lives here?”

“His mother is my friend, Karen Walker,” I said. “Apartment twelve. If I can’t come in, could you get a message to Karen that I’m out here with Timmy?”

Sammy and the Camcops looked at each other.

“I’ll go find Chief Burke,” one of the Camcops said.

“So you’ve been babysitting the kid?” the other Camcop asked.

“She—no, Timmy!” I snapped, and grabbed him by the waist again. He’d been reaching toward Sammy’s service revolver.

Just then Chief Burke came trotting up. Things must be serious—I couldn’t recall when I’d seen the chief moving faster than his usual stately walk.

“This is Karen Walker’s son?” he asked.

“Timmy,” I said. “Timmy, say hello to Chief Burke. He’s the boss of all the police here.”

The remaining Camcop frowned. Timmy tilted his head and inspected the chief with interest.

“Hello,” he said. “Want ride in the ‘leese car.”

“Do you indeed?” the chief said.

Timmy frowned and cocked his head, as if this was a test.

“Please?” he said finally.

“That’s the magic word,” the chief said, with a faint smile. “We need to talk,” he added to me. “Sammy! Why don’t you take Master Timothy for a ride in your cruiser?”

“I don’t have a car seat,” Sammy said, turning pale.

“I do,” I said, holding out my keys. “My car’s down the block.”

“Make it a good long ride,” the chief said. “Use the siren a lot. Stop for ice cream if you’ve a mind to.”

“Yes, sir,” Sammy said. He moved around so he could take Timmy’s hand with his left, to keep him as far from the gun as possible.

“Fred, you want to go along, help Sammy?” the chief said, turning to the remaining Camcop. It was a question, not an order, but I could see Fred was frowning and digging in his heels. “Might be good to have another officer along, if the kid happens to let slip any information.”

“Yes, sir!” Fred’s face cleared, and he strode off looking very polished and military, especially compared with Sammy, whose gangly frame was contorted as he tried to stoop down so his hand was at toddler level.

“I gather all this has something to do with Karen,” I said, gesturing to the herd of police vehicles.

“Ms. Walker’s a close friend of yours?” The chief had taken out his notebook. And he was looking at me with suspicion. More suspicion than usual. Of course, usually all he suspected me of was snooping around and interfering with one of his investigations. This time . . .