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“In my driveway. He got right up in her face and asked if she was part of a threesome!” My voice gets louder in outrage.
“Do you want me to come out?” Brad asks.
“If you don’t, and he calls you later, will it look bad for E—whoever punched him?”
Brad is silent for a few seconds. “Let’s file a report. Probably safer that way.” He disconnects.
I spin around and stalk to the sidewalk, looming over the short photographer. “The sheriff is on his way.”
“What? I didn’t do anything! And she punched me!” Boitano blusters. “I’m not on your property! And it’s not posted. You can’t prove anything!”
“Your blood is on the grass. How’d it get here if you didn’t come on the property?” Nica points at the ground.
“Doesn’t mean anything. Trespassing is a civil offense. And you aren’t allowed to just punch people!” Boitano lets go of his nose, which promptly starts to drip again. He regrasps the bridge, holding his clean hand out. “Give me my phone back!”
Eva looks at the device in her hand, then lifts it as if to show him. Her voice takes on an innocent, questioning tone. “This phone? Is this yours? I found it here. On my dad’s property. How can it be yours? You said you didn’t trespass.”
A siren wails in the distance, getting louder every second.
Boitano’s face goes even paler under the blood. “Did you call the cops?”
“I told you I did.”
“I didn’t—you shouldn’t—never mind!” He backs away from me, pausing at the curb. “Keep that girl away from me!”
“How about you stay away from her?” Nica yells as he runs across the road. “I’m going to file for a restraining order!”
The rental car’s door slams in response. The engine turns over, and the wheels spin out as he careens away.
I turn to Nica. “I’m not sure you’d have much of a case.”
She crosses her arms, staring after the fleeing car. “Sometimes the threat is enough to scare them away. But Boitano is persistent. I suspect he’ll be back.”
Siren wailing, lights flashing, the sheriff’s car turns onto the street. We clap our hands over our ears as it pulls to a stop in front of us. The siren cuts off, leaving my ears ringing, and Brad climbs out. He’s in his mid-thirties, with powerful shoulders and arms but the start of a paunch leaning over his waistband. He hooks his thumbs on his belt and looks around, his eyes pausing on each of us.
“Where’s the perp?”
“That little weenie ran away.” Eva explains what happened and hands Brad the phone. “That’s his. I deleted the pictures he took. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that?”
Brad takes the device in two fingers, carefully avoiding the bloody fingerprints. “You know punching someone is assault.”
Eva’s head drops. “I know, but he asked if we were having a threesome!” She waves at me and Nica. “With my dad! Ew!”
Brad grunts in agreement. “It’s not a good defense for punching someone, though.”
“He got right up in her face.” I step close to Brad. He instinctively steps back, an arm coming up to block. “Like that.”
“I have to get his statement. Where is he?” Brad takes another step back and peers around, as if the photographer is hiding behind Alf, who chooses this moment to wander out of the bushes. The big calico eyes us, then stalks away.
“Is that the same cat we saw in town?” Nica asks.
I shrug and nod. “I told you he gets around.”
We watch the cat for a few seconds, then Nica turns to Brad. “If that little twerp doesn’t talk to you, we’re good, right?”
Brad waggles his hand. “I should file a formal report—so if he calls, we have the history. Can we go inside and sit down?”
I lead the way into the kitchen and get Brad a glass of water. Eva sits at the table with him, answering questions. Nica perches next to her, patting Eva’s shoulder or murmuring encouragement as they go through the incident. I putter around in the kitchen, listening.
