Free Send My Love and a Molotov Cocktail! by Gary Phillips, Andrea Gibbons

said.
    â€œAnd if either of you talk to the press, even to a ten-year-old blogger, you will be walking night patrol in South Chicago for the rest of your short lives.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Liz repeated.
    â€œYazzuh, boss.” Oliver sketched a salute.
    The lieutenant frowned, which sent Oliver grumbling into the interview room. Every time Finchley refused to laugh and joke with Oliver Billings, the detective magnified the size of his grievance against the new commander. The fact that Finchley was black and Billings was white only made the relationship more volatile.
    Liz pretended sympathy with her partner’s complaints about Finchley, because Oliver had proved more than once that he’d blind-side her in the field if he thought she wasn’t supporting him. Privately, she was glad the old commander had left. She’d only served under him for two months, but he used jokes as a thin cover over his efforts to put women officers off-balance. When he’d assigned her to Oliver, he’d eyed her with a leer and told Oliver to “shape her up, not that there’s anything wrong with the shape she’s already in.” The late-night, post-shift drinking sessions with his special cronies not only created divisions in the station, but brought his buddies, including Oliver Billings, to work with chronic hangovers.
    She and Oliver stopped outside the interview room for a word with the officer who’d been listening to the hidden mikes. Leydon Ashford apparently suspected the police could eavesdrop—the officer said the Dr. Adari and her lawyer had murmured so softly into each other’s ears that he hadn’t picked up anything.
    Oliver pulled a chair away from the table and leaned back in it, legs crossed: the suspect was supposed to be lulled into thinking it was a casual chat. He announced his and Liz’s names for the recording equipment, but before he could launch into his first question, the doctor narrowed her eyes at Liz.
    â€œHave we met, detective?”
    â€œI don’t think so, ma’am, unless I was on patrol for an event like today’s.” Liz’s tone was wooden.
    Oliver cleared his throat, demanding attention. “I understand you and Arnie Culver had a history, doctor.”
    â€œEvery abortion provider in this country has a history with Mr. Culver. Recently, most doctors who prescribe contraceptives have started having a history with him.” Dr. Adari had her hands folded in her lap.
    â€œIs that why you attacked Culver outside the fundraiser this morning?” Oliver asked.
    â€œI can’t add to what I told you earlier,” the doctor said. “He used one of his children to hand me a flier. I tossed it at him. Is that an attack? Is it similar to the time he lit gasoline-soaked rags and threw them at me?”
    â€œThat’s what we want to know, doctor” Oliver said. “Did you follow him down the lake path? Have a confrontation that got out of hand?”
    â€œNo. I told him not to abuse the children he brought into the world by forcing them into his private anti-abortion army, and then I went into the fundraiser, where any number of people can tell you I spent the entire lunch hour. Is there anything else you want to ask me? I have patients waiting.”
    â€œTo abort their babies?” Oliver asked.
    The doctor said, “My patients’ privacy is sacrosanct, detective. I can’t tell you why they consult me. I can only tell you that it’s unprofessional of me to make them wait.”
    The lawyer said, “Right. If you have any further questions for Dr. Adari, you can call me.” Ashford put one of her business cards on the interview table. She nodded at Adari and the two women stood.
    â€œWhat about the private eye you hired to investigate Culver?” Liz asked.
    â€œWhat about it, indeed?” the lawyer said.
    â€œHow did Culver react to the investigation?” Liz