Grabbing a clipboard and a tablet, Tilly bolted out of her office, marching toward the interrogation rooms. Rick tailed her, straining to keep up, his worn sneakers squeaking loudly through the still and empty halls.

Quietly, they entered the antechamber of the interrogation room, standing on the opaque side of the room’s one-way mirror, watching their tipper sweat onto the room’s wide table. Tilly immediately recognized him.

“I think he walked here,” Rick speculated. “He smelled like Buford Highway, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know what you mean, and I encourage you not to clarify.”

They continued to look through the mirror, watching the tipper continue to sweat. He wore plain clothing—jeans and an imageless black T-shirt—but he had a strange pride about him. His hair was immaculately wavy, his hairline delicately sculpted, and his cropped sideburns jutted down his face, terminating in a crisp needle point. He had no jewelry, but his skin shone like it had been rinsed in sunlight. He was trying to keep a low profile, “trying” being the operative word.

Tilly smiled, happy at her fortune. “Anything else I need to know before I question this guy?”

“According to the forms we had him fill out, his name is George Curio. The basics are that he lives in East Point off of Newnan Street, he was born in 1983 in Coweta County, he’s American, unmarried, and works as an entrepreneur. My guess is that he’s a pimp, but I just associate waves with pimping. Not sure why. I could never get waves. My friends said I always had the wrong brush, but I think that was their way of keeping my hope alive.”

Tilly scowled. Rick never knew when to shut it off. “Thanks, Rick. I’ll take care of this interview. You go look up his online profile and search our databases for any criminal history. Use his address, but don’t search for George Curio. It sounds a little too much like Curious George to me. Look up outstanding cases of car theft and cross-reference that with armed robbery.” Satisfied, she paused then added, “I think you might find something interesting.”

Rick nodded before waltzing out of the room, leaving Tilly alone. Rick had missed her hints. Their partnership needed work. Or at least a few more Magic City visits.