“Those were all misdemeanors.”

“Those were all assaults.”

“I lose it sometimes.” He forced a John Candy chuckle. “Guess I should stay out of the bars.”

“And maybe spend more time at the gym,” said Rook.

Heat gave him a cool-it glance. Barry had turned to the mirror again and adjusted his shirt around his gut. Heat closed the file and said, “Can you tell us your whereabouts this afternoon, say around one to two P.M.?”

“I want my lawyer.”

“Sure. Would you like to wait for him here or down in the Zoo Lockup?” It was an empty threat that only worked on newbies, and Gable’s eyes widened. Underneath the hard-ass face she fixed on him, Heat was loving how easily he caved. Gotta love the Zoo Lockup. Works every time.

“I was at the Beacon, you know, the Beacon Hotel on Broadway?”

“You do know we will check your alibi. Is there anyone who saw you and can vouch for you?”

“I was alone in my room. Maybe somebody at the front desk in the morning.”

“That hedge fund you operate pays for a mighty nice address on East 52nd. Why book a hotel?”

“Come on, are you going to make me say this?” He stared at his own pleading eyes in the mirror then nodded to himself. “I go there a couple times a week. To meet somebody. You know.”

“For sex?” asked Rook.

“Jeez, yeah, sex is part of it. It goes deeper than that.”

“And what happened today?” asked Heat.

“She didn’t show.”

“Bad for you, Barry. She could be your alibi. Does she have a name?”

“Yeah. Kimberly Starr.”

When Heat and Rook left Interrogation, Detective Ochoa was waiting in the observation booth, staring through the magic mirror at Gable. “Can’t believe you wrapped this interview and didn’t ask the most important question.” When he had their attention, he continued, “How did that swamp doofus get a babe like Kimberly Starr into the sack?”