...............    "Attempted auto theft, Sergeant. These men were trying to hot-wire a parked car." Rookie patrolwoman Lisa Rossi pushed her detainees toward the station-house desk. Taller than average and slim of stature, Lisa kept green eyes hidden behind her shades, shoulder-length auburn hair stuffed beneath her cap, and the world at arm's length with her no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners attitude.    "You're kidding me-right? They can't even walk straight."    "I know, Henry, I know. They're drunk out of their minds. What do you want me to do with them?" Lisa allowed a smile to flicker across unblemished features as she looked up at the desk sergeant and winked. Henry was a kindred soul.    "Did they give you any trouble?"    "Nah. They're pussycats."    "That's good news for us, and lucky for them. Okay, throw them in the tank. Let 'em sleep it off. I'll deal with them when they sober up. By the way, Lisa, there's someone here wants to have a word with you. Meet Detective McAfee; Billy… Officer Lisa Rossi."    The detective, a tall man with an expansive Irish face and the build and bearing of a college linebacker, held out his hand: "How do you do, Officer. I'm Billy McAfee."    Lisa nodded warily: "What can I do for you, Detective?"    He glanced at his watch: "When you're done with those er… felons, meet me at the deli next door. I'll buy you lunch." And then, with a nod to both Henry and Lisa, Detective McAfee turned and walked out the door.    When Lisa slid into McAfee's booth, they appraised each other for a moment without speaking. Then the detective nodded and smiled. "I ordered you a pastrami on rye and coffee. Is that okay?"    "Sure," she said, as she continued studying his face, waiting for the punch line.    "The new mayor is pushing to clean up the streets," Billy began. "He wants everyone to know he's fulfilling his campaign promises, if you know what I mean. So the Commish decided, rather than wasting our time harassing prostitutes, who don't really give a shit, we should lean on their customers. He thinks the Johns would be real embarrassed to see their names in the papers." He gave a short laugh and paused while a waiter served their food.    "Where was I? Oh, yeah: Well, the mayor likes the idea, and my boss got saddled with the assignment."    "So now you're looking for policewomen to go out on the streets dressed like bimbos and arrest guys for soliciting." Lisa shook her head. "I don't think so, Detective. That's not why I joined the police force. Get yourself another patsy."    "There are certain advan…" began McAfee, stopping mid-sentence to change his approach. "Why did you join the force, anyway?"    "I'm not sure. It's kind of complicated," she responded, stirring some sugar into her coffee. "But, I guess I wanted to make a difference-to show my father I could be somebody."    McAfee nodded and smiled. "Let me guess. Your dad was a cop, and you're an only child…"    "For your information, wise ass, my old man was a Chianti-swilling Italian bricklayer who could hardly speak English. He thought women belonged in two rooms, and two rooms only-one of them being the kitchen. We didn't get along too well."    The detective held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, Officer Rossi, okay. You win. But, listen to me a minute-I'm on your side. You're right about the job. But, I swear to you, you wouldn't be alone out there. I want you to work with me. It means working nights, and it means dressing like a hooker, and it gets really tedious. But, I'll be there watching out for you; I'll make the arrests myself. And, as I was just trying to tell you, there are some advantages: If you become known as someone who's willing to do undercover work-that's a shortcut to becoming a detective. And if you do a good job when you're working with me, I will definitely put your name forward."    "Yeah, right!" Lisa responded, still skeptical. But she studied his face and saw no guile in those Irish eyes. "You mean it?" He grinned and nodded.    "But, why me?" she asked.    "There are a couple of reasons: One, your superiors speak very highly of you, and, two, when we hit the streets, there'll be a quota-probably three busts a night. And with a good-looking woman such as yourself, the Johns will be lining up around the corner. We'll fill our quota in no time, and I can go home to my wife. Satisfied?" ...............

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