Page 67 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

“Keep going. It’s around the corner and to the right,” she told him, not even trying to conceal her disgust.

“Thanks, lady!” Cody called as he and Jackson maneuvered the oversized box through the corridor. Cody was a little too tall to be walking backward and pretending to balance the box, and he awkwardly hit the wall with his shoulder, knocking the framed certificate on the wall off.

Jackson caught it deftly and paused before replacing it.

“Hunh,” he said, staring at it for a moment.

“What?” Cody asked. Jackson put the certificate back on the wall and, with a glance over his shoulder to make sure Piper Lutz had left them alone, took a picture of it.

“It’s one of those award deals,” Jackson said. “For organization of the year or buttplug of the century or douchenozzle empress or whatever. Left here.”

Cody reached out and opened the door of the office they’d been directed to, and Jackson noted the name on the door—Valerie Trainor—with satisfaction.

The Big Cheese-esse. There should be something to learn here.

“Why’d we take a picture of the Douchenozzle Empress award?” Cody asked, as together they plopped the giant empty box right in the middle of the big room with the pink-champagne-colored plush carpet on the floor. “Also, this area rug is giving me a yeast infection.”

Jackson grunted. “It would giveJadea yeast infection, and she is not afraid of pink. And we took a picture of it because Ellery’s mother told him that places like this are usually an arm or a pinky or a foreskin of a political party or….”

He paused in the act of folding up the dolly to tuck under his arm, and Cody finished the sentence.

“Or a certain politician,” he said, pulling out his own phone to take pictures of the stuff on the desk. “I hear you. Do we have any ideas?”

“Well,” Jackson muttered, rifling through a filing cabinet. He paused at a file marked Property Taxes and Mortgage Receipts and pulled it out.

“Well, what?” Cody asked, and Jackson glanced up from what promised to be a very interesting slog through something that could proveveryimportant, to remember what he’d been talking about.

“Well,” Jackson continued, reasoning hard, “Sacramento is more liberal than you might think. Most of the right-wing politicians try to cloak themselves—hide the crazy. You have to look for certain phrases. Things like ‘give parents control of education’ or ‘protect our children from unwholesome influences’ when you look at the ballot. And sometimes they hide the crazy under fiscal conservatism. So I’m thinking that whoever is giving these women ‘Douchenozzle Empress of the Year’ will also have connections to whatever politician is currently involved in trying to hide the crazy. You know, a big right-wing circle jerk.”

“Oh!” Cody said, brightening. “Got it. Wow, you and Cramer—big brains. Maybe Ishouldstick to taking pictures of cheating spouses and workman’s comp fraud.”

“Ew!” Jackson replied, genuinely put off. “Hell no. Henry and I wouldn’t do a friend like that. No, stick with us. We’ve got contacts, son, and we’ve got a little bit of job knowledge.” He frowned. “Speaking of which… I really do need a few minutes with these files. How about you go get lost looking for the head.”

“What am I looking for instead of the head?” Cody asked.

“Kids,” Jackson said grimly. “Try to get lost on the second or third floors, okay? And if you can’t spot kids, take a look at their back garden and see if there’s any place to stash a body.”

“Oh wow.” Cody sobered. “God. Yes. Okay. What do we do if we get busted?”

Jackson grimaced. “Well, first play stupid, and if that doesn’t get you out of the sitch, yell my name and start charging for the exit. Remember you don’t have a badge—cut and run first. I mean, we’re both in good enough shape to scale the back fence. If I’m at the car first, I’ll fire up the engine and start circling the block in the place I think you’ll exit. How’s that?”

Cody Gabriel gave him a fierce grin. “Batshit insane. Looking forward to it. Back in ten.”

He “wandered” off, and Jackson spent a moment wondering at Cody’s undercover experience. He’d never gotten that far in the force—was much of it scripted there? Of course the television perception was of an agent—male or female—walking into giant drug deals with nothing but their brains and a swinging cod, but having spent some time in the department, Jackson imagined Cody had been given a great deal of structure, even when he was undercover.

It made sense, Jackson thought sadly. Cody’s job had gotten stressful. He’d been forced to make decisions he hadn’t liked—unethical decisions given to him by unethical people. And he’d been surrounded by product in his cover as a drug dealer. The temptation would have beenamazing. No wonder he’d succumbed.

Watching him now, cheerfully throwing himself into scenario after scenario—the sense offunpulsing from Cody Gabriel was seriously soul-sustaining. Henry had that same sense, and in the quiet of this stranger’s office, Jackson took a moment to check his phone for messages.

Galen had texted—it must be his turn on deck—with a quick,Henry wants to know if you’re sitting on your ass crying or actually doing something.

Ha, ha.Jackson texted the picture of the “Civic Group of the Year” award, along with aPull your weight and tell me who runs this and which politician thinks it’s a dandy idea.

Ooh, research. You are giving me an erection, which is both improper and titillating. I shall tell Ellery you’re being naughty.

Jackson held back a chuckle. Galen was being his charming self—with a dose of IDGAF, probably aided by sleep deprivation.

Well, good. Jackson was right there with him.

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