Detective

be evidence, so I brought it in. I figured maybe the lab could match it up with the fatal bullet and see if it came from the same gun.”
    The sergeant just stared at me. I must say, he was good at it. He had the most wonderfully ironic, mocking look. His face said it all. He didn’t believe a word I was saying.
    “Was the bullet from the same gun?” I asked. I already knew the answer. They wouldn’t be talking to me if it wasn’t. But I needed to be sure.
    “We’re asking the questions here,” the sergeant snapped.
    This was the part I wasn’t looking forward to. You see, I’ve always been intimidated by cops. I’m one of those people who, when they’re driving along and they see a cop car with the lights flashing, immediately think, “Shit! They got me!” even though they’re not doing anything wrong. And if a cop should pull me over and ask me for my license and registration, I’d give it to ’em. It would never occur to me to say, “No,” or even, “Why?” Because police are authority figures, and it’s just natural to do what they say. At least it is for me.
    However, the sergeant had said, “We’re asking the questions here,” and I was never gonna get a better cue line than that for my purpose, so it was up to me to pick up on it. So I gritted my teeth and I did.
    “Oh yeah,” I said. “Well, you’re going about it all wrong.”
    The sergeant’s head shot up. Apparently he wasn’t used to having his authority questioned any more than I was to questioning it. “What?” he said ominously.
    “You’re going about it all wrong,” I told him. “If you’re accusing me of a crime, you haven’t advised me of my rights.”
    “No one’s accusing you of a crime,” the sergeant said.
    That was what I expected him to say. It was also my next cue, and it was the biggie. I was ready for it, but it still took all my nerve to carry it off.
    “Fine,” I said. “In that case, I’m leaving.”
    The sergeant’s mouth fell open. “What?” he said incredulously.
    “I’m walking out of here,” I told him. “It’s been nice talking to you.”
    “Hey, wait a minute,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere.”
    “That’s what you think,” I said. “If you’re not charging me with a crime, you got no right to hold me. I’m getting out of here.”
    “That’s what you think. You’re not getting out of here until you account for that bullet.”
    “Sorry, Sergeant, I don’t have to. You wanna hold me, you gotta charge me. I know my rights.”
    The sergeant looked as if he’d just eaten a bucket of nails. “All right,” he said. “You’re under arrest. The charge is accessory after the fact to murder. I hope that satisfies you. Now what about the bullet?”
    “You haven’t advised me of my rights.”
    “You said you knew your rights.”
    “That doesn’t matter. You haven’t advised me of them.”
    The sergeant sighed. “All right, Nelson, read him.”
    Nelson, one of the cops against the wall began the drone, “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say may be taken down and used in evidence against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney—”
    That was my last cue, and I jumped on it. “That’s it,” I said. “I have the right to an attorney. I want to call my lawyer.”

36.
    A SIDE F ROM M ONEY , THERE IS nothing Richard likes better than bopping cops around. I’d called him once before, when the King’s County Hospital security staff had attempted to impound my film for taking a picture of one of the patients. I’d called Richard and he’d been there in 20 minutes.
    He beat that record today, and I’m sure it was not because he thought I was the best person in the world, or because he could not bear my sorry plight, but just because he absolutely loves confrontations.
    The first words out of his mouth as he strode into the room were, “Did they touch you?”
    I shook my head.
    “All right, gentlemen,” he said, surveying the room. “Perhaps we can still avoid a lawsuit. Who’s in charge here?”
    “I am,” said the sergeant.
    “All right, Sergeant, what seems to be the trouble?”
    “This man brought in a bullet. It’s evidence in a murder case. He claims he found it in the parking lot where the man was killed.”
    Richard’s eyebrows launched into orbit. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute,” he said. “Let me be