Tough Customer (24 page)

"I'll wait and walk you out. That cat might be really pissed off by now."

She freed the cat from the pantry. He was sulky for having been confined but not vicious. She turned out all the lights. She removed the cloth from the card table. Dodge insisted on folding up the chair and table and carrying them out to her car, where he stowed them in the trunk. He pocketed one of her business cards. Then they stood there at the curb facing each other.

Feeling awkward, she worried her car keys. "Thanks for stopping by."

"You're welcome."

"It helped to have company. Talking made that last half hour go faster."

"I kept you from falling asleep at least."

"And if you change your mind about the house..."

"I'll let you know."

She smiled.

He waited a beat, then said, "You wanna go get a cup of coffee or something?"

"Thank you, but I can't. Roger is expecting me."

"Oh. You don't want to keep Roger waiting."

The bitterness behind his words was unmistakable and prompted her to declare, "He's being very sweet."

"Good. That's good."

"When you and Officer Gonzales came to the house, that was an isolated incident."

"So you've said. A bunch of times."

"Well, it's true. Roger regrets that night. Deeply. He's sworn never to raise a hand to me again."

"A groom shouldn't have to swear to something like that, though, should he?"

"His contrition is sincere."

Dodge's expression remained skeptical, which compelled her to convince him.

"Roger thinks the beating outside his gym was a random, aborted mugging, and I've never told him differently."

Dodge didn't really give a damn if Campton knew he'd been the one to attack him, although he'd just as soon the department not get wind of it. But he figured Campton himself protected him from anybody in authority finding out. Even if the woman-beating asshole guessed, or learned through some other means, the identity of the man who'd jumped him, he wouldn't file a legal complaint against Dodge, knowing that if he did, his ill treatment of Caroline then would be made public. Nor was the millionaire likely to challenge him in private, because men who hit women were usually cowards.

It suited both men to leave it alone. But in a perverse way, Dodge wished he could rub the son of a bitch's nose in it.

"He remembers the mugger whispering something to him," Caroline continued. "But he was on the brink of unconsciousness and can't recall what the mugger said."

Dodge looked even more skeptical.

"He considers himself lucky to be alive."

"He is," Dodge said bluntly.

"Since the beating, and his painful recovery, he's been extremely sweet. I think the scare caused him to rearrange his priorities. In any event, he's gone back to being the Roger I first met. He can't do enough for me. He's charming and thoughtful. I've fallen in love with him all over again."

He said nothing, but his eyes turned stony.

"You're basing your low opinion of him on that one incident," she said with heat. "You've never seen the real Roger. The night he slapped me, he wasn't himself."

"No?"

"No. If you could see him now, compare the two, you'd realize that. I'd never seen him act that way before, and certainly not since you beat him up."

"So he changed his spots because of my attack, his brush with death? That's what you think?"

"Yes."

"Bullshit. A leopard never changes his spots. My old man was right about me. I'm a cop, and a damn good one, mostly because I think like a criminal. I have criminal impulses. My daddy knew it way back, and I own up to it now. People adjust their behavior to fit the society they live in. They integrate because they have to. But what they are on the inside doesn't change.

"So if Campton has gone back to being nice and sweet, it's not because he's seen the light and had a Pentecostal conversion. He's lying when he says he doesn't remember what his
mugger
said to him that night. If he's acting all lovey-dovey, it's because he's afraid I'll follow through on my promise to kill him if he ever hurts you again."

Her cheeks had grown hot with anger. "I'm marrying him."

"Because you love him?"

"Yes! Very much."

He took a step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back farther in order to look into his face. "You know what I think?"

"I don't care what you think."

"I think you're going through with the wedding not because you're so wildly in love but because you're stubborn. You don't want Caroline King's judgment questioned. You don't want to be proved wrong."

"You know nothing about me."

"I know one thing." He came nearer still. "I know you're all I goddamn think about."

She felt his words like a punch to a place low and deep inside her. They made her breath catch. They caused her heart to thump. They made her want to take that leap off the high board.

She was afraid he was going to kiss her. She was afraid he wasn't.

He didn't.

After countless tense moments, she turned and went to the driver's door of her car, opened it, and got in. He didn't try to stop her as she drove away.

For the third time, she left him staring after her. The first time she had retreated into her house, touched by the policeman's concern. The second time, she had returned to her real estate class inside the office building, upset over the beating he'd given Roger but acknowledging that Dodge's concern wasn't strictly professional.

This time was not so much a retreat as a full-fledged escape. From him, yes. But also from herself and the colossal mistake she was likely to make if she stayed.

Dodge arrived at the tire plant the following morning in a surly mood, cursing the rush-hour traffic, cursing the floors he'd have to mop today, cursing himself for making a mess of his visit with Caroline.

Things had been going real good. He would even go so far as to believe that she'd been glad to see him, and not just because she'd wasted a Sunday afternoon sitting alone in an ugly, empty house, and anybody's company was better than none at all.

But then he'd gone and shot off his mouth about her fiance. She had jumped to Campton's defense, as she should if she was bent on marrying the guy.

But, dammit, Dodge knew he was right. Petite as she was, Caroline King had a steel I-beam for a spine. He'd sensed it the moment he met her, when she'd been smarting inside and out but was too proud and obstinate to cry in front of him. Losing her parents at a relatively young age had no doubt forced her to be self-assertive. Or maybe she'd been born with that stiff backbone and circumstances had only reinforced it.

Whatever, the upshot of it was that she was mule-headed, and, in large part, that was why she was going through with her marriage to Roger Campton.

Dodge refused to accept that she loved the rich, handsome son of a bitch.

Once again, she'd been mad as a hornet when she left him. He cursed himself for being a goddamn idiot. Why was it that he could talk any other woman out of her clothes, out of information, but he couldn't communicate with the one woman he wanted most to communicate with? Around her, his glibness deserted him.

He'd gone home and drunk a six-pack, slept badly for having to get up to pee every hour on the hour because of the beer, and arrived at the tire plant in a truculent mood, which is probably why, when he spotted Crystal beside a souped-up truck with oversize tires and semiobscene mud flaps, engaged in deep conversation with her felonious boyfriend, he wended his way through the parking lot toward them.

Practically issuing an engraved invitation for a confrontation, he moved up close behind her and said, "Hey, Crystal."

She spun around, looking like a terrified rabbit caught in headlights, except that her eyes were swollen and red from crying. Her eyelashes weren't so spiky when wet with tears. "Oh, hi," she said nervously. "This is, uh, this is Franklin. My boyfriend."

Albright looked him up and down. "Nice uniform." He leaned forward and read the make-believe name stitched in red lettering on Dodge's left breast pocket. "Marvin," he added, smirking when he said it.

Dodge ignored him and addressed Crystal. "How come you're crying? Can I help?"

Franklin Albright gave Dodge's shoulder a hard shove. "You can help by minding your own fucking business."

Dodge, who'd been spoiling for a fight when he arrived, wanted to dive into the ex-con, but he settled for shaking off the hand on his shoulder. "Watch your language in front of the lady."

"It's okay," Crystal said quickly. "I wasn't crying. I've got allergies. A Sudafed should fix me up." She gave her boyfriend a worried glance, then nodded Dodge toward the plant's entrance gate. "Don't be late for work on my account."

"Do you have some Sudafed? Because I'll be happy to go get some for you."

"I've got a box in my desk drawer, thanks. If you're late, they'll dock you."

"Well, you would know, Miss Payroll," he said in a teasing voice.

She gave him a tremulous smile. Franklin Albright was all but snarling.

Dodge stared him down, trying to look like a geek trying to look tough, then ambled off in the direction of the gate, shooting one final glance at them over his shoulder before entering the plant and thinking,

"Sure enough," he told the other members of the task force during their meeting that evening, "ol' Franklin was waiting for me when my shift ended. He accosted me just outside the gate."

"Define
accosted,
" the captain said.

"Grabbed me by the shoulders and backed me into the fence. I made a stand, but not too much of one. I didn't want to let him know that I could have laid him out flat if I had wanted to."

"What did he say?"

"He told me to stay away from Crystal."

"What did you say?"

"I said I'd do what I damn well pleased."

"Then what did he say?"

"He said I could do that, sure. If I wanted my head ripped off and used as a urinal."

"Franklin's got a real way with words, doesn't he?" one of the other officers quipped.

"Did you find out why she was crying?"

"Over lunch, she told me that she'd brought up the subject of matrimony again, and Franklin had said no, no way, no way, Jose. I lent her a sympathetic ear, told her he wasn't just ugly, he was stupid."

"How'd she react?"

"She laughed. She thinks I'm funny and sweet and brave for standing up to him. But she warned me against waving a red cape. She said he has a temper, as well as a knife. I told her I wasn't afraid of him." He shrugged complacently. "I'm her hero."

"But your cover is blown."

"By playing Sir Galahad? Hardly."

"But now you're in Albright's sights."

"As a complete schmuck who has designs on Crystal. If he gets wind of my prying now, he'll figure I'm just trying to move in on his girl. If I was prying for no apparent reason,

that
would have bleeped on his radar screen and caused him to be suspicious."

"So where'd you leave it?" the captain asked.

"Yeah, you haven't explained how your face got messed up," another officer observed.

"Franklin thought we'd reached an understanding. He poked his finger in my chest and said, 'You're not going to talk to Crystal anymore, right, Marvin?' And I said, 'Sure, okay, because I can screw her without talking.'"

"Holy--"

"You didn't."

"Dodge, I swear."

"You asked for it."

"Of course I asked for it," Dodge told the group. He would have grinned, but his split lip hurt when he did. His eye was the color of an eggplant and swollen nearly shut. "I'll show up at work tomorrow with Franklin's handiwork on my face, and Crystal will be full of remorse and apology. But underneath her big tits, her little heart is going to be pitter-patting at the thought of me standing up to big, bad Franklin on her behalf. I'll have won her heart and her loyalty."

"But he'll tell her what you said about screwing her."

"And I'll deny it. I'll pretend to be crushed and offended that she could even
think
I'd say such a thing. My feelings toward her are honorable and pure."

"I'm gonna puke," one of the group said drolly.

"What makes you think she'll believe you over Franklin?" the captain asked.

Despite his busted lip, Dodge spread his grin around the room. "Because she wants to."

And then Caroline King crossed his mind, and his grin dissolved. Almost to himself, he said, "Even when the bad is staring a woman in the face, she wants to believe her man is good."

That was the question Oren had been asking himself for most of his life. Whenever Fate pulled a nasty practical joke on him, which was with unfair frequency, he had asked himself what were the odds of that happening, whatever
that
was in any given situation.

Obviously the odds of shit happening to Oren Starks were very good because the bad luck just kept coming.

Friday night had been a fiasco. The "lake house incident," as it was being referred to by the media, had been a disastrous personal failure, but to an outside observer, its absurd outcome must appear almost laughable. It had been like a bad farce, with the villain making his exit by falling down the stairs no less.

Given its comic elements, the shooting of Ben Lofland possibly could have been written off as a squabble among former co-workers. No one had died. Lofland's condition wasn't even all that serious. There would have been some unpleasant legal ramifications to plow through, but after all was said and done, the incident would soon have been forgotten.