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Roy cruised lazily down 1st street in his Cadillac convertible. It was almost seven and he was sure to be late to work but he didn't care, the drug addicts and whores would wait for him. They usually operated at night anyway. He flicked the ash of his after breakfast cigarette out the window took a long drag. The nicotine gave him the buzz he was after. His hangover from the night before throbbed dully and he turned the radio down, muting some new Bing Crosby number. Something glinted on the passenger seat, catching Roy's eye. He reached over. It was costume jewelry, probably from that dame he had picked up at The Blue Room last night. He smirked. She had been pretty hammered, Roy's job had been fairly easy. A few sly words, a martini, and the broad had practically thrown herself into Roy's lap.

I hope she won't try and get this back…I hate talking to them. Roy tossed the earring into the backseat and turned back to the road.

"Fucking shit!"

The woman was lucky Roy had seen her when he did. His foot fell hard on the brake, jolting him into the steering wheel. The car squealed to a stop just before hitting her. Furious, Roy laid on the horn. The woman didn't even glance in his direction. She skipped lithely across the street, emerald green suit flashing in the sunlight, and disappeared around a corner.

"What the hell!" Roy yelled after her, aware that she probably couldn't hear him but too angry to care. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Lady?"

The only response he received was the angry honks of the cars behind him.

Still shaking with adrenaline, Roy cautiously continued through the intersection. Fucking dames, he thought irritably, lighting another cigarette to calm his nerves. This time the smoke did nothing. He tossed it out the window. Scotch, there was scotch in his desk drawer. He'd have a tall glass of that before hitting the debriefing room, that would steady him.

Five minutes later, Roy parked his car and headed into the police station. His desk and its precious contents were on the second floor. He hurried up the stairs, breezing past a few of his favorite secretaries who called out after him.

"Not now, Girls."

He had just turned the corner that led to his office when he was stopped dead in his tracks. There, sitting at the desk just outside of his door, was the woman in the emerald green suite.