Free Fort Freak by George R.R. Martin

Park and watched as Todd Fairbanks and his posse emerged from the front doors of the Barrington Prep. The gold embroidered patch with the school’s insignia flashed in the autumn sun and glowed on their navy-blue blazers. Little budding Masters of the Universe.
    I realized I found them more loathsome than the most deformed joker in Jokertown. “Them,” I said.
    “I’ve never done that many,” Bruce whined.
    “Don’t fuck this up.”
    He concentrated to the point that the tip of his tongue emerged. Then he brought both hands to his lips and blew kisses at them. All their clothes vanished, except for one boy who still had his shoes and socks.
    Tate, muffled in a long cloak with a hood, stepped forward. Over the roar of passing traffic I couldn’t hear the rapid-fire whine of the digital camera shooting multiple photos, but it was clear from the boys’ expressions they realized what was happening.
    I turned to Bruce. “Okay, you can go.” He jumped up, but I caught him by the wrist. “But first, play back the deal.”
    “I don’t say a word to anybody about this ever.”
    “And.”
    “And I stop taking your clothes.”
    I released him and decided to walk through the park. It was a nice afternoon. I could hear the music from the carousel, smell hot dogs and pretzels on the various carts. There were a lot of girls taking advantage of the last warm days before winter, and skating and running past in shorts and tank tops. And Tate would need time to download and print the photos.
    ♠
    The McDermotts lived in a run-down building on the south end of Jokertown. I stepped over a modified tricycle in the lobby and tried to visualize the child’s body that could ride it. I couldn’t twist my brain that much. Somewhere above me I heard the elevator making its slow descent. I gave up, and instead sprinted up the five flights to their floor.
    Sheila had just gotten home from her job at an electronics store, and I knew her daughter had chess club and wouldn’t be at home. The mother answered at my knock and frowned, trying to place me, while she pushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. When she did recognize me the weary irritation turned quickly to alarm. “Joanie…?”
    “Fine. She’s fine. I wanted to give you this.” I handed her a business card for Dr. Pretorius. I had considered using Charlie for what I had planned, but Pretorius was the most feared plaintiff’s attorney in Manhattan. He was a much better choice, and once I’d outlined the McDermotts’ situation he was excited to help. “Dr. Pretorius is expecting your call.”
    “Why am I … I can’t afford to pay a lawyer, that’s why we have the public—”
    “He’ll take his fee out of your settlement.”
    “What settlement?”
    “Joanie’s going to be able to attend any college she wants.”
    “How? Why?”
    “Call him,” I said, flicking my nail on the edge of the card. I left.
    ♦
    You don’t approach a public figure in their office. Surrounded by the trappings of their power and position they tend to bluster. Nor do you brace them in their homes. That sets off all the old defending-the-castle responses. No, you catch them in public where they can’t easily make a scene.
    Being a cop also means you can locate a person pretty damn easily. Especially someone who doesn’t know he’s being watched or followed. I waited until Fairbanks was playing eighteen holes with three buddies, and I bought myself a tee time. I played golf in high school and college, and I was pretty sure I could outplay four fat old guys. I was right. By the fourth hole I was on their heels. Then I got lucky. Fairbanks sliced one into the trees. I heard him thrashing around searching for his ball. I hoisted my bag higher on my shoulder and called to his companions.
    “I’ll help him find it. I’m just waiting.” It’s always fun to rub it in to bad golfers that you’re better. And I was pretty sure that any friends of Fairbanks would be assholes.
    He