Molly Sullivan believed in playing fair. She collected favors and dished them out in almost equal measure. Recently, she’d returned from a road trip to help extricate a childhood friend from a serious predicament. Now, back on her home turf, she’d barely had time to unpack before receiving an urgent call from a trusted friend who happened to be a policeman. It was her turn to give.
Lieutenant Tierney was a man in a hurry. Bulldozing his way through the squad room of the 23rd Precinct, he narrowly avoided a number of calamitous close encounters with his law enforcement colleagues. Following in his footsteps, Molly Sullivan did her darnedest to emulate the lieutenant’s example, but with limited success.
When the pair rounded a corner and entered a narrow hallway, Molly’s bounteous handbag caromed off a water cooler and nearly bowled over a uniformed officer who was walking in the opposite direction.
Without breaking stride, the lieutenant glanced back and said, “She’s with me.”
The officer, who was doubled over with pain and holding his midsection, said in a strained voice. “You’re welcome to her, sir, but I’d suggest you disarm her before letting her back out on the streets.”
Molly looked straight ahead and continued walking. “Is it my imagination, or is the stationhouse more crowded than usual?” she asked.
“The chaos you observed is the result of a hastily-called meeting of the organized crime task force,” the lieutenant said.