"She ... why ... why ... she left, of course. You don't think I was going to have women running around in here, do you?"
"She wuz in his bed when I seen her, sarge," one of the guards contributed. "But she ain't there now."
"You don't think that I—"
"Listen, bud, we don't do the thinkin' around here. You come on along and see the chief."
Brian had had about enough. "I'm not going anywhere to see anybody. Maybe you don't know who I am. You can't arrest me."
Brian Hanson, Chief of Research for Venus Consolidated, as dignified as possible in a damp bathrobe, glared out through the bars at a slightly bewildered Pete Brent.
"What the devil do you want? Haven't you caused enough blasted trouble already?"
"Me? For gosh sakes, chief—"
"Yes, you! If sending that damn blonde to my apartment and getting me arrested is your idea of a joke—"