"Call me Tommy, sweetheart- Mr. Gunn's my dad." He grimaces, then says, "Lemme tell ya a little story, love." He pauses, and lights another cigarette, blows a perfect smoke ring (which eventually settles like a halo above Clark's metallic nob) and continues, " Mr. Lawrence Livermore Lipschitz and I have a history. I pounded a flatfoot beat in the Riverfront district, uniform cop, for 12 years. Then I made detective, 7 years there, and I started gettin' hints that Mr. Lipschitz, while remaining the darling of High Society, wasn't above hiring low-life thugs and goons to grease the wheels when a deal wasn't goin' his way. He owns a lot of properties down in the Warehouse and Riverfront neighborhoods, and unprofitable ones have a funny habit of burning down. I started lookin' in his direction a little too hard, and, to make a long story short, after he'd bankrolled the new Mayor's campaign, Hissoner appointed a new Police Commisioner, the progressive Mr. Barnard Fivendiemer. The new commish called me in, told me I was a "dinosaur" and a "Neanderthal", said the modern police force didn't tolerate my kind anymore, and had me turn in my shield and my service revolver right then and there! One year short of a pension, 19 years of serving the public interest, and all off a sudden, I'm out on my ass!" He takes a gulp of his Bourbon, and a long drag off the cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Yeah, I already know about tickin' off Lippy the Lizard." He gazes into his glass for a moment. "Still got a few pals down at City Hall, though. When I put in for the P.I. license, they rubber-stamped it on the QT. Now I'm tryin to nail the Lizard on insurance fraud. Oh yeah, doll, be careful who ya let hear ya call him Lippy the Lizard...goes without sayin' he ain't fond of that moniker."
