[CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/HnKlvGW.jpg[/img][/CENTER] [b]December 22nd, 1946 Gotham Central 9:30 AM[/b] Corrigan hit the head. He parked in front of a urinal and unzipped. The door swung open halfway through his piss. Someone loomed close. Jim turned. Slam Bradley towered over him. Bradley smiled. His big hands closed around Jim's shoulders. He shoved Jim into the urinal. Water and pissed splash. He struggled. Bradley's hands felt like vise grips. A knee in his lower back kept him pushed hard against porcelain. Bradley got in close and whispered, "If you're going to keep stealing and shaking down dealers, make sure they're not Jefferson Skeevers' guys. Skeevers is an asshole, but he has enough sense not to threaten a cop. That's why I am personally delivering this message. This constitutes your first and only warning, Corrigan." Bradley shoved him hard one more time. He banged his head against the tile wall. Slam backed away. Jim pushed away from the urinal and pressed against the wall. Bradley was already at the door. He looked back at Jim and winked. He disappeared out the door. Jim came out after him, water spritzed and reeking of piss. Whiskey Max rounded the corner. He fish-eyed Jim and took in his disheveled clothing. "Tidy your appearance, Detective, and come with me. We may have a lead on these killings." [center]*****[/center] [b]9:46 AM[/b] Slam found Grogan in the Sex Crimes office. Three of his goons snarfed doughnuts and rifled through sex offender files. They were looking for a prime candidate for the Snapshot Killer frame job. Grogan had his feet hiked on the squad boss's desk. His pants leg rode up, a snub-nosed .38 peeked out from an ostrich skin boot. Two-Gun Jack spat tobacco juice in a chaw cup. "Samuel, come to help with the perp hunt?" Slam said, "Can we talk?" They went out to the parking garage. Slam wore a coat against the cold. Grogan went in just short sleeves. His twin holsters sagged. He slid the gunbelt up higher on his waist. Grogan said, "I'm all ears, son." "I saw Jeff Skeevers this morning. We had a conversation that pertained to you. It was quite troubling." "Finish your thought, boy. I hate being led around by the snout." "He said you're in deep to some people" Grogan's hands twitched. "Fuck Skeevers. A coon with grand visions and a big mouth, nothing more." "Give me details, Cap. What's going on and how can I help?" Grogan spat juice on the pavement and took off his stetson. He ran his fingers through thinning hair and said, "I made a few bad investments. Let's leave it at that. You want to help, help me close this case as soon as possible and we'll do what we can to mend fences before it's too late." [center]*****[/center] [b]10:00 AM[/b] Max drove through traffic. It was holidays heavy. People doing last minute Christmas shopping. He thought of Mary. He hadn't gotten her anything for Christmas yet. This Snapshot Killer business got in the way. He'd find time tonight to go shopping and get... he didn't know what she wanted. Corrigan rode shotgun. He still looked spooked. Something happened to him. He remained mum on it and gazed out the window smoking cigarettes. Traffic hit a lull. They stalled out amidst traffic jams. Corrigan tossed his smoke out the window. "Why me?" Max said, "What do you mean?" "Why bring me into all of this? I found the body, yeah, but I'm a Narco dick." Max squared his glasses and said, "You're also very compromised. Your reputation proceeds you, Corrigan. You are a well-known narcotics abuser who routinely shakes down drug dealers. Even with that baggage, your past casework implies that you are a competent investigator. Your drug use gives me a wedge I can use against you if you do not cooperate. While others tolerate your misdeeds, I will not hesitate to report you to Internal Affairs and have you thrown out of the department." Corrigan snarled. "You're a fucking prick, you know that?" "So I've been told many times. If you can clean up, I think you can be quite the comer in this police department." Max hit the lights on his unmarked. Traffic parted quicksville. He hit the gas and sped through stalled traffic as fast as possible. Corrigan said, "That's mighty high praise coming from Whiskey Max." "Think nothing of it, Shakedown Jim." -- [b]Western Gotham 11:03 AM[/b] It was a dive bar if there ever was one. Cramped space, tiny bar, rickety chairs, moth-eaten upholstery on booths. Jim sat on a barstool and watched Eckhardt and Charlie Fields hit paydirt. An honest to god witness turned up during canvassing. The wit was tall and imposing as hell. He sent prickles down Corrigan's chest. He reminded him of Bradley's threat, whispered softly but full of malice. There was no impotence behind his words. Eckhardt said, "You work here as a bouncer, Mr. Norman?" Norman nodded. "Yeah, been here for a few years now. Call me Jake." Fields said, "Jake, tell Sergeant Eckhardt what you told me." Norman nodded again. "Okay. I was outside the bar here last night. It was dead, everyone spooked by the killings, and I stepped out to have a smoke. I saw a woman walking towards the bar. I noticed her because she was the only one on the street." Eckhardt cleared his throat. "What time was this?" "About two in the morning." Jim did the math. He found the dead girl's body around three thirty. Medical Examiner's report put her time of death between one and three. It seemed to check out. Fields pulled a photo out. Crime scene pix of the dead girl's face straight on and at side angles. "This her?" Norman squinted. "Can't really tell. It was dark out and she didn't get close enough to see her face real good because about halfway down the block this car pulls up. A white looking Chrysler all beat up to shit. It idled there and talked to her for a minute and she got in. The car passed by the bar. It had a cracked windshield and dried mud all down the side. I saw a white man with dark hair driving the car." Jim saw a look pass between Eckhardt and Fields. Excitement. A lead. Months without a goddamn trace, and now they had a lead on this son of a bitch.