"He's a bloody liar," Detective Sergeant Beaulieu said, pointing at the television set. He took a grape from the bunch on Corrigan's hospital bedside cabinet, then bit into it.
"Of course he's a liar," Corrigan replied. "He's a politician." A sudden stab of pain made the inspector wince, forcing him to lie back on his pillows.
Beaulieu twisted another grape off its stalk. "Typical folks on the hill." He looked at Corrigan with concern. "D'ye need some painkillers? I can call a nurse to give you some." The sergeant reached for the call button that was dangling from the bedstead.
"It's just my ribs, that's all. So, did you just come to my sickbed to eat my grapes or do you have something important in mind?" Corrigan gestured at the sparse furnishings in the hospital room. "God knows that I could do with a break from all the excitement."
Beaulieu gave his superior a sly grin. "Aye, sir. Well, you'll be happy to know to know we've been making some progress on finding the bastards who did this to you."
"Really?"
"Oh yes." Beaulieu put another grape in his mouth. "We think we've found out who this Pogo is. It took us a while, though. Fortunately there are some of us who are old enough to know how to use the card index files."
Corrigan raised his eyebrows in amazement. "That long ago, eh? Then Pogo must have been something to do with one of my first cases. No wonder I couldn't remember who he was."
Beaulieu got up from the chair. "Aye. That would make sense. Anyways, me and the rest of the team decided we might want to pay this Pogo person a visit. Ask some questions. That sort of thing."
"I'll come with you!" Corrigan struggled to sit up, but the pain in his side was so intense that the room seemed to spin around him. He dropped back onto his bed with a groan.
"And mebbe you won't," Beaulieu retorted. "With all due respect, sir, you're no going anywhere."
