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"Lucky?" Gonzales scoffed. "I'll say. Within twenty minutes, she'd given up the shooter. You walked the detectives straight to where she told you he'd be hiding. There's no truth to that story?"
Dodge reached for his coffee cup. "I didn't take her behind the building."
"But you got her to give him up."
"Wasn't that hard to do." He grinned. "Not once I'd convinced her that a guy like that was no good for her, that she could do a lot better."
Gonzales was laughing, shaking his head in admiration. "Didn't you say that the solution to most mysteries could be found under a woman's skirt?"
"I never said that."
"You're quoted."
"Locker room talk." But Dodge's sly grin gave away the lie.
They finished their meal, divided the check, and paid out. As they separated outside the restaurant, Gonzales said, "Makes me feel a little better, knowing there's one woman you can't have. That redhead isn't gonna give up a superrich guy, even one who knocks her around now and then, for a street cop. You'll have to live without that one, Dodge."
Gonzales was proven right. When Dodge reported for duty that evening, he learned that Roger Campton had been released from lockdown before noon. His lawyers--plural--threatened a countercharge of police harassment, and Ms. Caroline King had declined to press charges. It was even said by the lawyers that she regretted having involved the police, that it was all an unfortunate misunderstanding, a mountain made of a molehill. Et cetera.
Dodge had figured that was the way it would shake out, but he didn't like it and couldn't leave it at that.
After his shift, he told Gonzales he didn't feel like breakfast and went instead to her house. He was parked at the curb in front of it when she came out to get her morning newspaper. He got out of his car and started up the walk.
"Ms. King?"
She shaded her eyes against the sun and regarded him warily.
"It's Officer Hanley."
She was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, no shoes. Compared with his size twelves, her feet looked like a child's.
"Oh. Hello. I didn't recognize you without the uniform."
"I just got off duty, thought before I went home, I'd come by, see how you're doing."
"I'm fine."
"You've got a bruise."
She touched the edge of her eye. "Not surprising. My skin is so fair, I bruise if you look at me hard."
"He did more than look at you hard." The statement was out before he could stop it, and he'd sounded tougher and more dangerous than the guy who'd slapped her. But he didn't apologize for what he'd said.
She seemed embarrassed, even apprehensive. "I didn't press charges."
"I know. I checked."
"Roger was mortified by his behavior. He'd had a shouting match with his father and took his residual anger out on me. Both have apologized. Roger has sworn that it'll never happen again. I'm confident it won't."
Dodge wasn't, but he didn't tell her that. "Everything's okay then?"
"Everything's fine."
He stood there, feeling oafish, searching for something to say to prolong the conversation but thinking of nothing.
"I need to..." She gestured behind her toward the front door, which she'd left standing open. "I'll be late for work."
"Oh, sure, sorry. I just came by ... you know, to check on ... things."
