A little after 1:30, Jones was taken into police custody. officially he was not under arrest for any crime. It was still possible for him to abscond given that no charges were being filed. However, he felt it best to feign cooperation. There was still a possibility that the corruption that had allowed for the influence of Vincent de More to put a halt on the initial investigation to once again rear its ugly head.


    Jones was willing to take the risk that he spent the night in a holding cell. Justice would just then have to wait till the morning. All of the rush prior to find the killer was no longer so important. The evidence needed to nail Vincent de More existed somewhere. Vincent himself had proven it though the episcapade at the county tax office. Despite not having seen Vincent clearly, Jones was willing to bet his life that he was the perpetrator.


    The officers who picked Jones up were very cordial to his surprise. They were sure to ask how his day was and if he needed anything. Their politeness did not seem to be an attempt to butter the private eye up, but was rather motivated by their respect for detective Lovemarine.


    After arriving to the small police station, Jones was dumped in front of the detective department. Right opposite a clerk, he was told to wait until after the officers had a chance to confer. At first Jones took the opportunity to rest his eyes. He stared upwards until the weight of his eyelids forced themselves down.


    Jones could not help but return to the action of only a half an hour prior. He begun to realize his mind had deceived him. His impulses were not under as strict of control as he had thought. The rush of the adrenaline from being shot at was beginning to dwindle.


    The car chase that he imagined in his head simulated itself a good three times. Each and every instance would end with Jones running the pursued off the road. Being the pursuant here would led to death. Jones did not know whether to feel guilty at the prospect of killing a man who shot at him. The thought disturbed him, and he discovered accordingly that he was unable to rest.


    Jones decided to strike up conversation with the young clerk sat across from him.


    "Hello, my name is Jones. How are you?"


    "Hello, my name is Jacob. Fine, and yourself?" replied the man, a bit shocked that someone was talking to him. The private eye hoped that he was not being rude in striking up conversation with the youthful worker.


    "Doing alright, I hate to be too forward, but do you happen to have the newspaper from the day that Claudia Wells was murdered?"


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    The clerk was not sure of the day the event took place initially. After Jones informed the man of when exactly he was looking for, Jacob was more than happy to provide the private eye with the paper.


    With little else to do, Jones decided to read article of the local paper that gave brief mention to her untimely demise.


    "Claudia Wells, a resident of Yeoville for a matter of months, was found dead of a heroin overdose in her apartment. The police have declared the case to be an accident. She is survived by her father."


    Jones knew now who to pay a visit to immediately after the encounter with the police was over. He did not know if eagerness was taking over or if the frustration needed to be released, but he could not wait to confront Luca Hartmann with the knowledge of his lie.


    The closed door to the office of the homicide detectives had opened. "Mr. Jones?" called out the familiar voice of detective Lovemarine.


    "Yes?" replied Jones expecting more direction.


    "Come on in, we have some things to talk about."


    When entering into the room, there were four detectives, including Lovemarine, standing around.


    "So, we are here to discuss the next steps of the investigation. Before we begin, I am going to remind you that technically you are not supposed to be investigating active cases. I, however, think we owe it to you to have a chance to finish the case," stated Lovemarine before being interrupted by another detective.


    "You are on a leash. You will work with Lovemarine and you have a time limit. We will wait to reopen the case until 6 a.m. tomorrow morning. That is when the police chief will arrive and since he is required regardless to reopen any case technically we have done nothing wrong. The last thing we want is for the right thing to do to hamper our ability to put Vincent de More away for life. Understand?"


    "Yes, I do." replied Jones. He was expecting the usual police resistance to his presence, but the deal he was being offered was more than satisfactory. It was now or never. A guarantee in result was still far from certainty, but at least Junkyard Jones knew when his adventure was to end.


    Little more needed to be said. Where Jones thought that he would need to explain his actions to the police with the right amount of delicacy, Lovemarine had taken over the mantle. Jones counted his blessings that no mention was made of the breaking and entering. Lovemarine had proven to be a good commander after all.


    A detective offered to drive Lovemarine and Jones to the 1970 GTO at the tax office. The three of them made their way out of the building. Having taken the side entrance before, Jones had yet to see the bustle of the county police headquarters. The first floor of the police station was much busier than the second, but by no stretch of the imagination was it crowded. The atmosphere rife with familiarity between criminal and con could perhaps explain why this station was missing that distinct urine smell Jones was so accustomed to in the Crystal City.


    The detective''s car was nothing fancy. The car''s radio played music of the age of the detective, heavy rock and roll. Lovemarine only spoke to criticize the new generation of the music. He much preferred something with more melody. Jones did not know if these were the right words, but definitely the guitars were a bit too powerful.


    The detective bid the men adieu and wished them luck. Jones and Lovemarine stepped the car with mutual resolve to finish what they had started.


    "So I guess we are partners for a few hours more?" Lovemarine asked. Jones'' answer was the sound of his engine coming to life.


    "We need to pay a visit to Mr. Hartmann."