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The USS Mina Harker Schoonmaker Point
"How long before you have me up to a gallon of Maalox a day?" Captain Miller asked.
Ford was sunk deep into the chair in front of the Captain's desk, his feet planted on the corner.
"Are you sure you have something to go on here?"
"Absolutely Captain. I swear to you that by this time tomorrow this case will be closed or I'll be dead."
"Well," Miller said, picking up the phone. "Here's hoping."
The hall was noisy, petitioners wandered to and fro carrying materials and clipboards. The city's commissioners were making the rounds, pretending to care, lying about making a difference, and smiling their practiced smiles. Ford shuffled through the crowd, twice deflecting bicyclist-rights activists by making threatening gestures with the thermos full of the Queen's potion he was carrying, and once pausing to sign a "Free Mumia" petition. Just as he was preparing to defend himself against a horde of PETA nuts by loudly declaring that he enjoyed tasty animals, he spotted Zvolen.
"Commissioner!" he shouted, waving his arms and plowing through the crowd. "Commissioner Zvolen!"
Zvolen was shaking hands with a pair of crew-cuts in suits when he spotted Ford. He smiled to the pair, then excused himself in order to cut Ford off mid-travel.
"Detective," he said, smiling brightly. "I thought we had settled this matter."
"Oh," Ford said, in mock confusion. "Did I say that? Hmm… it's almost as if someone was putting words in my mouth."
Zvolen's smile faded quickly, and he grabbed Ford by the arm. He herded him off the floor and into a private room, then slammed the door.
"Ok, detective, you've got your wish. Say what you have to say and be done with it."
"Oh, Commissioner!" Ford said, looking hurt. "I had no intention of making any further accusations against you. In fact, I came here to get the evidence I need to clear you."
"I'm feeling skeptical, Inspector," Zvolen said. "You'll have to pardon me for that."
"I find your lack of faith disturbing," Ford replied. "Can I see your forearms Commissioner?"
"For what possible reason?"
"Well, we have evidence that the boy struggled with his murderer and probably scratched his or her arms up pretty good. If you have no scars, then I know it's not you."
"Very well," Zvolen replied, rolling up his sleeves. He held both arms out in front, then turned them over. "Satisfied?"
"Quite," Ford replied. "But I wanted to pass some information on to you."
He reached into his coat and pulled a manila envelope out. He fished around for a moment, then produced one of the pictures he got from Danny.
"And this is all confidential, of course," he said, handing the photograph to Zvolen. "We think Brubakker might have had something to do with the murder."
It was clearly calculated, but Zvolen's expression remained steady. He glanced down at the photograph, but never looked back up.
"I have some other materials you might be interested in," Ford continued, pulling other papers out and passing them over. "I think you might be very interested in the highlighted portion of the LIFE article there on top."
Zvolen glanced down at the article, then looked up at Ford. He was livid, but he said nothing.
"I'll just be going now," Ford said, tucking the folder back into his jacket. He turned to leave, but stopped at the door. "Oh, Commissioner, do you mind if I ask you a question?"
Zvolen stared, but made no reply.
"Have you ever seen 'The Changeling' with George C. Scott?"
"I'm sorry," Zvolen said, in a soft, quiet voice. "I'm not much of a movie buff."
"Ok then," Ford said, smiling. "I'll be in touch."
"Hey Fish," Ford said, walking back toward his desk. "How's the wife?"
"Her mother's visiting for a week," Simonyi replied, without looking up from his novel.
"Ah," Ford nodded, shrugging off his jacket. "So you're, where? At the Holiday Inn again?"
"Yeah, they got the nicest breakfast. Oh," Frank put his book down. "Don't take your coat off. We got an anonymous tip on the Zvolen case."
"A tip?" Ford asked. "Like a clue or what?"
"No," Frank said. "Just a time and the name of a boat."
"Ooh," Ford giggled, "It must be my secret admirer asking me out on a love cruise. What's the name?"
"The Mina Harker Schoonmaker Point."
"Mina Harker Schoonmaker Point? That's an odd name for a ship, gimme that," Ford said, snatching the pink "While you were away" paper from Frank's hand. "You bonehead, Schoonmaker Point is a marina in Sausalito."
"Ah, well, I guess we'd better get driving then, huh?"
"Sure," Ford said, putting his leather jacket back on. "You drive. We'll hit Jack-in-the-Box on the way."
"Your treat?"
"My treat."
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