The blaring music and lights were only making my emerging headache worse. I needed sleep, but sleep had been hard to come by recently. Old nightmares had been haunting me again.
The brutality of this case wasn't likely to aid my sleeping efforts positively either. I glanced around once more. So many people had worked to make this elaborate operation come about. People?
I swung around and addressed Rafferty, "How did you say the homeless man described the two groups of people? The first group of people looked like cops and the second group were strippers?"
"Yeah." He said nodding his head looking puzzled.
"He didn't say they looked like strippers, but instead that they were strippers in actuality?"
"Yeah that's the way he said it. He seemed to think that they actually were strippers."
I had something to go on now. "Sal, I want you to continue digging deeper into this fictitious company and see if you can find out where the wire transfer originated from. Rafferty, you and I are visiting the night club district, in particular The Gentlemen's Groan."
"Hey, why do I get stuck with the paperwork and you guys get to have all the fun?" Sal whined.
My eyebrows quirked up as I smiled imperially, "I'm not sure I know what you mean, Sal? I don't bend that way and Rafferty is a family man."
Sal's face reddened slightly, but he muttered, "You know what I meant."
"And I know that I need an objective partner and not just an interested onlooker." I reproved firmly, and he shuffled off quickly away from us.
My eyes met Rafferty's, only to see a slight reproof in them, "That was a little hard, don't ya' think?"
"Not at all. He gets on my nerves sometimes." I responded heatedly.
" Pretty much everything's been getting on your nerves lately. Want to tell me what's going on?"
I pushed past him instead, "Come on. You're starting to make me regret not taking Sal instead of you."
"Ouch!" he said good naturedly as I brushed past.
I winced inwardly. That had been mean of me to say and it hadn't been right how I had cut Sal, even if he had deserved it. Neither man deserved my bad mood.
Rafferty and I were almost to my car when Sal came running up waiving a paper. "You've got to see this!" He thrust the paper into my hands and my eyes widened.
"Who?" I asked, looking up shocked.
"The homeless guy! Can you believe it?" Sal exclaimed.
I couldn't actually. I walked back into the phony precinct to where the homeless man sat at a desk with the sketch artist's supplies laid out before him.