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Mike, like most of us, had loved the absolutely true story of the Southern judge who managed to masturbate while his court was in session. The problem was two-fold: the machine made a faint whirring noise, and occasionally the judge started getting glassy-eyed and a little out of breath. Not only did a witness catch on to this, so did the cop who stood on the right side of the bench. His interpretation— a generous man — was that the judge was having medical problems. He was in his seventies. The witness, not generous at all, talked to a reporter about it and she suggested flat out that the old guy in the robes was somehow getting his rocks off. Intrepid reporter starts looking online for whack-off machines and finds the one, as it turned out, His Honor was using. His Honor was soon busted and relieved of his duties. Weve got two goats, I said. What? Yes, his older brother and sister, Danny and Claire. Board-certified neurosurgeon at the Mayo Clinic, and CFO of a Fortune 100, respectively. They were eight and nine years older than he was, and already minted superstars. They had reached heights he never would. He had been told this so often, nothing could persuade him not to believe it. His name was Bradley Cowl, his boss of all bosses, and the force behind Cowl and Comely. Devine didnt know the name of the young woman who paraded at dawn in her bikini or less. Afterwards, Murfin, Inch and I had a drink in a small bar not too far from police headquarters. I let Inch buy because he probably was still charging me $100 an hour for the privilege of drinking in his company. While we waited for the drinks I excused myself and went back to the rear of the bar where the pay phone was. Mike Edelstein was one of those Big Ten college fullbacks whod managed to keep in shape both physically and mentally. He was as fierce in the courtroom as hed been in his glory days at Michigan State. She had on a white, clingy dress that slid to midthigh and, like the bikini, accented the womans tan. Her shoes were golden stilettos. She had a drink in hand and was talking to another woman of nearly equal beauty. He watched her laugh and the other woman followed suit. Devine wondered what they were talking about. He also wondered what made women like that laugh, or be happy. What the fuck is going on? Dino asked. The right-hand phone on Drakes desk rang insistently. You get to decide that. It must be fun. Did you hear any shots? Well, listen again, Mason said, and youll find that Im simply trying to protect my client against imposition. Stone told him all of it, and Lance sent an e-mail with James Weavers name in it. We cast a wider net than the police departments, he said, sipping his coffee..

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