High Noon

fiercely at the cops who came through the door.
    “It’s going to be all right. Joe, you’re going to have to go with the police. You’re going to need to have an evaluation. But it’s going to be all right.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “I know you are. Now you come on with me. Come on with me now.” She helped him up, took his weight as they walked to the door. “Let’s get you some clothes on. No cuffs,” she snapped. “Joe, one of the officers is going to go get you a shirt, some pants, shoes. Is that all right?” When he nodded, she gestured one of the officers toward the bedroom.
    “Am I going to jail?”
    “For a little while. But we’re going to get started on that help right away.”
    “Will you call Lori? If she’d come I could…I could show her I’m sorry.”
    “I sure will. I want that sunburn treated, and he needs some water in him.”
    Joe kept his eyes downcast as he pulled on jeans. “Sorry, man,” he mumbled to Duncan.
    “Don’t worry about it. Listen, I’ll get you a lawyer.” Duncan looked blankly at Phoebe. “Should I?”
    “That would be between you and Joe. You hang in there.” She gave Joe’s arm a light squeeze.
    He was led out, a cop on either arm.
    “Nice job, Lieutenant.”
    Phoebe pulled out the gun, opened it. “One bullet. He was never going to shoot anyone but himself, and the odds are fifty-fifty he’d have done that.” She handed the gun to her captain. “You figured he needed to talk to a woman.”
    “It leaned that way for me,” Dave agreed.
    “All in all, looks like you were right. Somebody needs to track down his wife. I’ll talk to her if she balks at seeing him.” She swiped at her sweaty brow. “Is there any water in this place?”
    Duncan held out a bottle. “I had some brought up.”
    “Appreciate it.” She drank deep as she studied him. Rich, dense brown hair, tousled around an angular face with a good, strong mouth and soft blue eyes that were currently pinched with worry. “Are you pressing charges?”
    “For what?”
    “For what he nipped out of the till.”
    “No.” Duncan lowered himself to the arm of a chair. Closed his eyes. “Christ, no.”
    “How much was it?”
    “A couple thousand, a little more, I guess. It doesn’t matter.”
    “It does. He needs to pay it back, for his own self-respect. If you want to help him, you’ll work that out.”
    “Sure. Fine.”
    “You’re the landlord, too?”
    “Yeah. Sort of.”
    Phoebe lifted her brows. “Aren’t you the busy one? Can you manage to float the rent another month?”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
    “Good.”
    “Look…all I got was Phoebe.”
    “Mac Namara. Lieutenant Mac Namara.”
    “I like Joe. I don’t want him to go to jail.”
    A good guy, Joe had said. He’d likely been right on that one. “I appreciate that, but there are consequences. Paying them will help him. He was crying for help, and now he’ll get it. If you know where he owes the five thousand, he needs to make that right, too.”
    “I didn’t know he was gambling.”
    This time she let out a short laugh. “You own a sports bar, but don’t know there’s gambling going on in it?”
    His back went up. His gut was already in knots, and now his back went up. “Hey, listen, Slam Dunc’s a friendly place, not a mob den. I didn’t know he had a problem, or he wouldn’t have been working the stick there. Some of this was my fault, but—”
    “No. No.” She held up a hand, rubbed the cold bottle over her damp forehead. “I’m hot, I’m irritable. And none of this was your fault. I apologize. Circumstances put him out there on that ledge, and he’s responsible for those circumstances and the choices he made. Do you know where to find his wife?”
    “I expect she’s at the parade like everyone else in Savannah, except us.”
    “Do you know where she’s living?”
    “Not exactly, but I gave your captain a couple numbers. Friends of theirs.”
    “We’ll find her. Are you going to be all right now?”
    “Well, I’m not going to go up on the roof and jump.” He let out a long sigh, shook his head. “Can I buy you a drink, Phoebe?”
    She held up the bottle of water. “You already did.”
    “I could do better.”
    Hmm, a quick flicker of charm now, she noted. “This’ll be fine. You should go on home, Mr. Swift.”
    “Duncan.”
    “Mmm-hmm.” She gave him a fleeting smile, then picked up her discarded jacket.
    “Hey, Phoebe.” He made a bead for the door when she walked out.