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She kept an eye on them while she considered calling Roarke to check on Summerset. Maybe there’d been a miracle and the medical techs had glued his bone back together and he was, even now, on his way to transport. As a result of the morning trauma, he wasn’t taking three weeks vacation. But four.
And while he was gone, he’d fall madly in love with a licensed companion—who would have sex with that freak unless she was paid for it—and decide to settle down with her in Europe.
No, not Europe. It wasn’t far away enough. They’d relocate in the Alpha Colony on Taurus I, and never again return to this planet called Earth.
As long as she didn’t call, she could hold on to the silver threads of that little fantasy.
But she remembered the pain in Summerset’s eyes and the way Roarke had held his hand.
With a mighty sigh, she pulled out her pocket-link. Before she could use it one of the shopkeepers shoved City Maintenance. Maintenance shoved back. Eve saw the first punch coming even if Maintenance didn’t, and he ended up on his ass. She shoved the ’link back in her pocket and headed down the sidewalk to break it up.
She was still three feet away when she smelled it. She’d walked with death too many times to mistake it.
The living were currently rolling around on the sidewalk, being cheered on or berated by the people who popped out of storefronts or stopped their hike to work to watch the show.
Eve didn’t bother with her badge, but simply hauled the guy on top up by his shirt, and planted her foot on the chest of the one still on the ground.
“Knock it off.”
The shopkeeper was a little guy, and wiry with it. He jerked away, leaving Eve with a handful of sweaty shirt. The blood in his eye was from temper, but his lip was sporting the real thing. “This is none of your business, lady, so just move before you get hurt.”
“That’s Lieutenant Lady.” The guy on the ground seemed content to stay there. He was paunchy, he was winded, and his left eye was already swelling shut. But as she didn’t have any love for anyone in any sector of maintenance, she kept her boot weighted on his chest as she flipped out her badge.
The smile she sent the shopkeeper showed a lot of teeth. “You want to take bets on who’s going to get hurt here? Now back off, and shut it down.”
“A cop. Good. You ought to throw his sorry ass in a cage. I pay my taxes.” Shopkeeper threw up his hands, turning to the crowd for support like a boxer circling the ring between rounds. “We pay out the wazoo, and dickheads like this screw us over.”
“He assaulted me. I want to file charges.”
Eve spared a glance at the man under her foot. “Shut up. Name,” she demanded, pointing at the shopkeeper.
“Remke. Waldo Remke.” He fisted his bruised hands on his narrow hips. “I want to file charges.”
“Yeah, yeah. This your place?” She gestured toward the deli behind her.
“Been mine for eighteen years, and my father’s place before that. We pay taxes—”
“I heard that part. This your bin?”
“We paid for that bin twenty times over. Me, Costello, and Mintz.” While sweat ran down his face, he jerked a thumb toward two men standing behind him. “And half the time it’s broken. You smell that? You fucking smell that? Who’s gonna come in our places to do business with that stink out here? This is the third time one of us has called for repair in the last six weeks. They never do shit.”
There were mutters and murmurs of agreement from the crowd, and some joker called out: Death to fascists!
With the heat, the stink, and the blood already spilled, Eve knew the harmless neighborhood crowd could turn into a mob on a dime.
“Mr. Remke, I want you, Mr. Costello, and Mr. Mintz to step back. The rest of you people, get busy somewhere else.”
She heard the rapid clop behind her that could only be cop shoes on pavement. “Peabody,” she said without turning, “move this crowd along before they find a rope and lynch this guy.”
A little breathless, Peabody jogged up beside Eve. “Yes, sir. We need you people to disperse. Please go about your business.”
The sight of the uniform, even though it was already wilting in the heat, had most of the crowd sidling away. Peabody adjusted her sunshades and her hat, both of which had tipped during her jog up the sidewalk.
Her square face was a bit shiny with perspiration, but behind the tinted lenses, her dark eyes were steady. She shifted them to the bin, then to Eve. “Lieutenant?”
“Yeah. Name,” she said and tapped her boot on the city worker’s chest.
“Larry Poole. Look, Lieutenant, I’m just doing my job. I come out here in response to a repair call, and this guy’s up my ass.”
