“Lager works, too. Thanks, Captain.” I washed the aspirin down with what turned out to be a perfectly presentable pale ale. A little heavy on the hops for my taste, but I wouldn’t have sent back a case.

The door to the hallway opened a little, and Vic stuck his head around the edge of it. I was startled, until I realized there was no reason why the copshop wouldn’t have a back door. He took a quick survey of the room, spotted Hawthorn, made a face, and drew his head back again. The door closed behind him. I don’t think Hawthorn noticed.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Hawthorn said. “I’ve radioed for my authorization. If the call went through, there should be no trouble about it, and we can go after that motorcycle in about an hour.”

Saquash caught my eye over Hawthorn’s shoulder and winked.

Before Hawthorn could turn away, I asked, “Do you think this might be it?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, that the owner of the bike might be the person Rico’s after.”

He thought about it. “Frankly, I doubt it. This fellow seems to be too good at covering his tracks to have risked being anywhere near High Street when his trap was sprung.”

“Good.” When Hawthorn looked surprised, I added, “Rico would be ticked if this turned out to be it, and she wasn’t there.”

I finished the soup, the beer, and the coffee while Saquash popped in and out of the room on various errands, and finally disappeared altogether. Hawthorn sat at another table with a pile of paper. I felt much better after the food. Relaxed. And after all, who’d mind if I put my head down and caught a nap? Surely they’d give me a poke if I started snoring.

I closed my eyes, and opened them on a different room, with a window across from me that was letting in the commotion that birds make just before dawn. I was lying on a cot in a room the size of Rico’s office. The rest of the furniture was a stack of cardboard file boxes along one wall. I was only slightly alarmed, because I couldn’t think fast enough or well enough to figure out what there was to be alarmed about. When I sat up, my head did the breast stroke, but the rest of me was fine. I stumbled to the door and out into the hall.

It looked as if I was still in the station house, so I tried drawing a bead on the front room. I managed to follow the trail without actually running into any walls. At last I pushed through a familiar-looking door, and the tug on my brain went dormant again.