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interpreting.
    “Nose stud,” said Dorothy. “Sick of it.”
    “In other words, eyewitnesses aren’t worth shit,” said Sullivan.
    “How’s the interplay between memory and drink orders?” I asked.
    Dorothy patted me on the shoulder and sauntered back toward the bar.
    “Seriously, Joe,” Jackie said to Sullivan. “We need to talk.”
    He put his burger down with some regret, and stood up. We followed him out to the Pequot’s rickety deck.
    “What,” he said, when we got there.
    “We’re going to tell you something you can’t tell anyone we told you,” said Jackie.
    “I can’t promise that.”
    “I know,” said Jackie. “But when we tell you, you’ll know why you have to.”
    Sullivan looked at me with more than a little exasperation.
    “What the hell, Sam.”
    “There’s something rotten inside Southampton Town Police,” I told him. “The whole force is under investigation.”
    His frown was a complicated affair. Concern mixed with recognition.
    “The snitches,” he said.
    “I didn’t know Alfie was a CI,” said Jackie. “What court would accept evidence from a full-out paranoid schizophrenic?”
    Sullivan got more irritated.
    “Who told you about Alfie?”
    “Edith Madison,” I said.
    He pinched his lips together as if to throttle an ill-advised remark.
    “How could anything he said be admissible?” Jackie asked, not ready to give up her point.
    “They wouldn’t know it was Alfie. That’s why they’re called confidential informants. Anyway, Alfie was more directional with his information than specific. Sam knows what I mean.”
    “He heard and saw a lot,” I said. “Wouldn’t necessarily know what it all meant.”
    “Where’s Ross in all this?” Sullivan asked.
    “Out of the loop,” I said. “There’s an official probe under way. No idea how they’re going about it. But Edith Madison asked us to go CI ourselves.”
    “Get the fuck out of here,” said Sullivan.
    “Meanwhile Ross invited us to go ahead and dig around Alfie’s murder despite the ongoing investigation,” I said.
    “What the hell’s going on, Joe?” Jackie asked.
    He didn’t want to answer, but knew he had to say something after we’d shown him such unconditional trust and regard.
    “I don’t know. Don’t even know how to think about it. Ross runs such a tight ship, no way he doesn’t know. But if he knew, heads would already be rolling all over Southampton.”
    “Why did you jump to the snitches?” I asked.
    “Three in a matter of weeks? Basically the whole snitch staff. Either an incredible run of bad luck, or somebody inside is dropping dimes. That makes sense up to the point it doesn’t. Officially the only people who know who’s snitching are me, Veckstrom, and Ross.”
    “Officially?” Jackie asked.
    Sullivan let a little embarrassment intrude on his general air of defiance.
    “First off you don’t know who says what on the outside. Inside, none of us tried too hard to keep it confidential. Talk can be loose around the squad room. Occasionally a snitch will come in for a longer session, and never get booked, which was supposed to be the cover. Sloppy, now that I think about it, though you never think you have to hide stuff from your own cops.”
    “You know them all that well?” Jackie asked.
    He thought about it.
    “Sure, except for the new guys. One rookie from town and one transfer from Up Island. Both been there about a year. Normal replacements for two retirees. Just cops from what I can see.”
    “So nothing else?” Jackie asked.
    Sullivan’s face froze in place.
    “Already said too much. If you don’t mind, I’ll be getting back to my burger before it turns into a block of ice.”
    Then he walked back into the restaurant, and we followed.
    We flopped back at the table and ordered some food for ourselves and a few rounds of drinks, but it was a pretty subdued affair, not being able to talk about the thing most on our minds and too distracted to talk about anything