I took his wrists and tried to get him under control. “It was a misunderstanding, Darcy. She wasn’t hurting the other woman. She was just-”
Okay, where did I go from there? Even if O’Bannon had had that little talk with his son, would it have covered activities such as the one he’d just stumbled upon?
“Let’s go back to the car, Darcy,” I said. “We’ll get a custard or something.”
“Why would she scream if she wasn’t hurting? I screamed last night when I stubbed my toe because it hurt and she was screaming and she didn’t have any clothes on and-”
“Come on,” I said firmly. “We’re leaving.”
I made a few excuses to the mistress and got him the hell out of there. Damn it all. I should have seen that coming. Maybe Granger had been right. Maybe I didn’t have any business dragging Darcy to these horrible places. All kinds of traumatic things might be going on inside his head that I knew nothing about. I had enough problems without playing with fire of this magnitude. O’Bannon’s autistic son. Christ, what was I thinking?
Those are bad girls and I know they are and they were doing bad things. Bad people go to hell and I don’t want to go to hell. Mr. Strickland said that we have to behave ourselves and if we didn’t we’d go to hell and he took me by the hand away from the others and told me he knew what I was thinking that I had these ideas and all the boys like me did and we couldn’t control them but I had to or I would be a dirty boy and I would go to hell. Bad girls! And the smell was so yucky on the big girl with the mole under her right knee and the holes all up her arm. Like the smell of Mommy’s dishwashing gloves when Mommy was still alive.
I hope Susan doesn’t stop taking me places even though I had a fit and Dad told me to control myself but I couldn’t help it and I wanted to rip my hair out but I didn’t and I hope Susan doesn’t stop taking me because I was bad but I’m afraid she will because she has been smelling really funny bad and it isn’t funny and Dad wouldn’t let me read the D. H. Lawrence books because he said they would be bad for me and I think this is all scary and I wish people wouldn’t do those things to other people. Bad girls! Bad girls!
Midnight. Most of the operatives had gone home, but Dr. Spencer and several others were still in the hotel ballroom. The phone rang incessantly. He had an hour to go before his shift ended.
“This is really something, isn’t it?” Harv said with his usual conversational panache.
“Did you have a specific this in mind,” he replied, “or just a general this?”
“This. Everything.” He waved his arm about. “The whole works. Can you believe this operation was pieced together by one woman? What a pistol.”
“A… pistol?”
“Yeah, you know. A hot tamale. Proactive. Ballsy.”
“I don’t see that her efforts have produced much in the way of results.”
“Give her time, Ernie. They will. Everyone knows it. She must have that sick son of a bitch quaking in his boots.”
That might be something of an exaggeration, all things considered. “You seem to be enjoying this assignment.” Which might explain why Herb was still hanging around, even though his shift had ended half an hour ago.
“ ’Course I am. Didn’t I tell you I always wanted to be a cop?”
“Yes, but you weren’t and you still aren’t. You’re a security officer temporarily assigned to a private room. No one here is a cop.”
“I’m a lot closer than I was bagging pickpockets in the blackjack pit. I mean, you can feel the excitement in here. You can breathe it. Makes my whole body tingle. Hell, I’m having a moment as we speak.”
That was really more information than I required, he thought ruefully.
“On this detail, we’re a part of something that matters. The whole world is watching this investigation.”
“The whole world is watching the police investigation. This gang is little better than a well-financed vigilante squad.”
Harv ran a hand through his russet curls. “You’re pretty damn down on this operation. But I know you volunteered for it. Why? If you dislike it so much, why don’t you go back to policing the slot machines?”
Well, there was a very good answer to that question, but he wouldn’t be sharing it with Harv. “I need the money.”
“That bonus in the pay envelope was pretty good, wasn’t it? I may be able to take Elaine on that Halloween holiday she wanted.” He took a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped it across his brow. “No disrespect to my Elaine, but Dr. Spencer looks pretty damn good for her age, doesn’t she?”
He made a slight clicking noise with his tongue. “Too much hair. And the plastic surgery was a mistake.”
“Yeah, like you’d kick her out of bed for eating crackers.” He laughed. “The ladies are tough on you little guys, aren’t they?” He gave his co-worker a gentle jab that was not returned.
A few minutes later, a trim black man with a cell phone in each hand approached them. “Which one of you two officers is in charge?”
“I am,” Harv chirped.
He burned. Was that because you’re so incredibly tall? “We’re both of equal rank and stature on this security detail,” he replied.
“Well, the doctor needs someone to drive her to the airport.”
Behind them, Dr. Spencer approached with her usual no-nonsense deliberateness. “Hello again, Ernie. Car’s parked out back, same lot you people use. These bodyguards can get me to the parking lot. But I need a driver. So which of you lucky boys is going to do the honors?”
He cut Harv off before he could speak. “I would be pleased to escort you, ma’am.”
“Sure you wouldn’t mind? It isn’t an official part of your job description.”
“That doesn’t matter. I would be honored.”
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, let’s be off.”
“Maybe I should be the one to go with her,” Harv cut in.
He felt his jaw clenching. Steady, old boy. Steady…
“Well, you’re still on duty, aren’t you?” Harv added.
“My shift ends at one.”
“And we don’t want to leave the door unguarded.”
“But if the good doctor is leaving now-”