“Let’s recap, Detective, to refresh your memory. I asked you if Detective Schwinn’s lack of higher education and military service had posed a problem for you in terms of rapport and you said, ‘No, I . . .’. It was fairly obvious that you changed your mind about saying what you were going to say.”

“There’s no problem between Detective Schwinn and myself. That’s all I was going to say. We get along fine.”

“Do you?” said Poulsenn.

“Yes.”

Broussard said, “So Detective Schwinn agrees with your point of view.”

“About what?”

“About justice.”

“I—you’d have to ask him.”

“You’ve never discussed weighty issues with Detective Schwinn?”

“No, as a matter of fact, we concentrate on our cases—”

“You’re telling us that Detective Schwinn has never verbalized any feelings about the job to you? About righting wrongs? Achieving justice? His attitude toward police work?”

“Well,” said Milo, “I can’t really pinpoint—”

Poulsenn stepped forward and pushed the RECORD button on the Satchell-Carlson. Kept going and ended up inches from Milo’s left side. Now both IA men were flanking him. Boxing him in.

Broussard said, “Are you aware of any improper behavior on the part of Detective Schwinn?”

“No—”

“Consider your words before you speak, Detective Sturgis. This is an official department inquiry.”

“Into Detective Schwinn’s behavior or mine?”

“Is there a reason to look into your behavior, Detective Sturgis?”

“No, but I didn’t know there was any reason to look into Detective Schwinn’s behavior.”

“You didn’t?” said Poulsenn. To Broussard: “His position seems to be that he’s unaware.”

Broussard clicked his tongue. Switched off the recorder, pulled something out of a jacket pocket. A sheaf of papers that he waved. Milo was craning hard now, saw the front sheet, the familiar layout of a photocopied mug shot.

Female arrestee, dead-eyed and dark-skinned. Mexican or a light-skinned black. Numbers hanging on her chest.

Broussard peeled off the sheet, held it in front of Milo’s eyes.

Darla Washington, DOB 5-14-54, HT. 5-06 WT. 134.

Instinctively, Milo’s eyes dropped to the penal code violation: 653.2

Loitering for the purpose of prostitution . . .

“Have you ever met this woman?” said Broussard.

“Never.”

“Not in the company of Detective Schwinn or anyone else?”

“Never.”

“It wouldn’t be in the company of anyone else,” said Poulsenn, cheerfully.

Nothing happened for a full minute. The IA men letting that last bit of dialogue sink in. Letting Milo know that they knew he was the least likely man in the room to engage a female hooker?

Or was he being paranoid? This was about Schwinn, not him. Right?

He said, “Never saw her anywhere.”

Broussard placed Darla Washington’s sheet at the bottom of the stack, flashed the next page.

LaTawna Hodgkins.

P.C. 653.2.

“What about this woman?”

“Never saw her.”