Free The Good Cop by Brad Parks Page B

Badge and a round, boyish face that I’m fairly certain didn’t require regular shaving.
    That youthful appearance made his obvious crush on Tina Thompson all the more funny. It was unclear whether the crush was professional or personal. Ruthie struck me as the kind of kid who might go for an older chick, especially a hot one like Tina; but he also struck me as a total suck-up, so it could go either way. All I knew is he spent an awful lot of time hanging around her office, following her on trips across the newsroom, yapping around her heels like the lap dog he wanted to be.
    “Hey, uh, Geoff,” I said, barely resisting the urge to call him Ruthie. You never knew whether the interns were aware of the clever nicknames we had awarded them. “What’s up?”
    I started my engine, just to get the heat going. It had been a mild day for March, but it was starting to get chillier now that the sun was going down.
    “Well, I remembered you were working on that project about public housing,” he said. “I happen to be really interested in public housing, so I was seeing if you wouldn’t mind me tagging along.”
    I felt my eyebrow arching. It was highly unlikely he “remembered” anything. The only people who would know about that project were the editors who had access to the master work-in-progress spreadsheet that tracked all reporters’ activities. Plus, no one is really interested in public housing. Not even the people who live there.
    Tina had obviously dispatched her little puppy dog to spy on me. The only question was whether he knew he was a spy or if he was just an unwitting pawn. One way to find out.
    “Geoff, did Tina tell you to call me?”
    “N-no,” he said, faltering slightly. “I’m just … really interest … interested in public housing and … the issues that go along with them.”
    Okay. I could play that game. I felt a wicked smile spread across my face. Ruthie , I thought, meet my wild goose. Have fun chasing it.
    “Well, in that case, you have great timing,” I said. “I could really use your help with something.”
    “Awesome!”
    “You got a notepad out? You should be writing this down.”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Good. Okay, first I need you to get some food coloring.”
    “Food coloring. Will do.”
    “Wait, it’s not that easy. It has to be organic food coloring. Gluten-free, of course. Vegan, if possible. If you get the regular stuff, the hydrocarbons just mess up everything. You might have to go to one of those all-natural food stores, and they don’t have any of those in Newark. Millburn or Montclair might have one. Be persistent. It’s important.”
    “O-okay,” he said.
    “Then you need to get some pregnancy tests.”
    “Pregnancy tests?”
    “I’ll explain it in a second. Just write it down. Get some pregnancy tests. At least a dozen of them—we’ll need more, but that should get us started. Get First Response or EPT. Don’t mess with the store brands. We need reliability here. Pretend your girlfriend missed her period and you really have to know.”
    “All right. What next?”
    “Well, there’s a group of Newark Housing Authority town houses on Eighteenth Avenue that are brand-new, just occupied,” I said, giving him a range of addresses. “We’re hearing reports that the contractor in charge of the project never connected the toilets to the main sewer line. You know what it looks like when you try to flush a toilet that doesn’t drain to the sewer?”
    “I would imagine it’s pretty gross.”
    “Yeah, but not at first. There’s a lot of pipe to go through before you get to the sewer, so it doesn’t back up right away. It might take a month before that happens. There’s only one way to test.”
    “Okay, how’s that?”
    “That’s where the food coloring comes in. I want you to knock on every door on the block and tell the residents you need to test their toilet. Put a few drops of food coloring in the toilet. Then ask them to flush it for you.