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drying.
    Scratch the bathroom stop, Jack thought, not wanting to smell vomit on top of everything else today.
    â€œYou feeling better, Officer, uh…?” Jack asked. He’d forgotten the rookie’s name.
    The young man looked up with red-rimmed eyes and said, “Kuhlenschmidt,” then returned to staring at the floor.
    Kuhlenschmidt was a wreck. He had just seen his first murder victim, his first mutilated body, and had the bad luck of humiliating himself in front of the news media and his peers by soiling himself and screaming and crying hysterically. Eventually he would have to be interviewed and file a complete report as he was the one that had found the actual scene of the murder. But Jack could see that questioning him right this minute would be fruitless.
    Not everyone is cut out to be a cop . He wanted to tell Kuhlenschmidt he should look at other career options, but instead he said, “Look, Officer Kuhlenschmidt, don’t be so hard on yourself.”
    The young cop looked up hopefully. “This ever happen to you, Detective?”
    â€œNo,” Jack said, and watched as the darkness crept back into that face. “But I can tell you some whopper stories on your training officer when you get off probation.”
    Kooky looked up and said, “I’m sorry I screwed up out there, Detective Murphy.”
    Jack had to turn away from the tears welling up in the young man’s eyes. It had been a long time since Jack had seen his first ugly murder, and had become the hardened bastard he was today. It was a cop’s lot in life to lose faith in humanity to the reality of evil.
    â€œYou married?” Jack asked, changing the subject.
    â€œNo. Got a girlfriend though.”
    â€œGo home,” Jack said. “Take a shower. Have sex. Drink a beer or two. Have some more sex.”
    Kuhlenschmidt looked up and grinned.
    â€œDid I mention that you should have sex?” Jack said in a very serious tone, and Kuhlenschmidt chuckled.
    â€œYeah, I get it, Detective Murphy. Thanks.”
    â€œDo not get drunk,” Jack said sternly. “That’s not the way to deal with this.”
    â€œI understand,” he said, “but what about Corporal Timmons? I’m on shift until three.”
    â€œI’ve already taken care of it,” Jack lied.
    Kuhlenschmidt picked up his shirt and started to get up.
    â€œWait here,” Jack said. “I’ll have someone take you home. You can come back to get your personal car later.”
    Jack was about to leave when Kuhlenschmidt said, “The deputy chief will never let me be a detective because of this, will he?”
    Jack pulled out a chair and sat down beside the man. “Let me tell you a story about Double Dick.”
    Kooky glanced up, and a grin spread across his face. “Double Dick? Are you talking about the deputy chief, sir?”
    â€œYeah,” Jack said, and told the young officer how Deputy Chief of Police Richard Dick had earned the nickname Double Dick. It wasn’t because Dick was short for Richard, which would make his name Dick Dick. The name had come about because Dick had a reputation for screwing everyone over and fouling up every case he was involved with. He also briefly told the story of how Dick had screwed up the last robbery stakeout that Jack was on and the lawsuits that were still being settled because of it.
    â€œSo you’re saying that when he shows up at a scene, everyone gets Dick’d, sir?” Kuhlenschmidt said with a crooked smile.
    â€œYou got it, partner.”
    Kuhlenschmidt smiled brighter at the word partner . Maybe Kooky isn’t such a bad nickname, after all, he thought.
    â€œGotta go pee, Kooky.”
    Jack left the rookie in the conference room. He hoped the poor guy was in better shape, mentally at least, than he looked.
    Jack walked into the garage and punched the numbers for the motor patrol shift lieutenant into his cell phone. He passed on