High Noon

now.”
    “Keep it up, Detective,” the lawyer warned, “and this interview is over.”
    “Just going with what seems to be a pattern. You were in the building Monday morning between nine and ten a.m. , Officer?”
    “That’s right. I had some things I wanted out of my locker.”
    “It took you an hour to get some things out of your locker?”
    “I hung around. I’m a cop,” he said with some irritation. “This is my house. I’m supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be doing the job. And I would be if it wasn’t for her and the stick up her ass.”
    “Now she’s a bitch with a stick up her ass who came on to you.”
    “I call them like I see them, remember?”
    “But it was Annie who said Lieutenant Mac Namara came on to you.” Liz smiled pleasantly when annoyance crossed Arnie’s face. “I think you’re getting your excuses and lies mixed up here. But it’s easy to see why. It’s hard to tell one bitch from the other, isn’t it? We’re all pretty much the same. You didn’t need to see Phoebe’s face when you punched your fist into it. You didn’t need to hear her scream or cry or curse you when you shoved her down, ripped her clothes to shreds. Of course, it didn’t take any balls to do that, not when her hands were cuffed. I guess one man’s payback is another man’s cowardice.”
    “I’m man enough.”
    “Man enough to use one woman to ambush another.” The sugary tone was a thing of the past now as Liz whipped out the words. “Man enough to lie in wait like a snake in the grass. And the only way you could put your hands on her was to cuff her, to knock her down. That’s the only way you could get her naked and put hands on her.”
    “I was never in that stairway,” Arnie shot back. “I never touched her. I got better things to do with my time. I sure got better things to do with my fingers.” He flipped the middle one at Phoebe.
    “She never said anything about fingers,” Phoebe said quietly. “She said hands.”
    He sat back. “Hands, fingers. Same thing.”
    “It’s really not.” There was a hot ball jammed between her belly and her heart, hard and hot. She needed it to break apart and dissolve.
    The victim needed it, she thought, to kill the fear.
    “You rammed them inside me. You son of a bitch.” She surged to her feet, ignoring the lawyer’s objections as she leaned across the table. “You smelled like baby powder, just like you do now. Under the sweat. Because you’re starting to sweat, Arnie. Do you remember what you said to me?”
    “Can’t remember something I didn’t say. I wasn’t there.”
    “You said you didn’t fuck my kind. I figure you didn’t use your dick because it’s too small to make an impression. Your kind can’t get it up half the time anyway.”
    “Too bad you didn’t break your neck in the fall.”
    “This interview’s over,” the lawyer announced.
    “You should’ve pushed me harder. Maybe if I’d broken something, you’d have gotten a decent boner.”
    “I should’ve kicked you down the damn stairs.”
    She eased back, nodded as that hard, hot ball began to dissolve. “Your mistake.”
    “I said, this interview is over.”
    “That’s fine.” Liz rose. “We’ll just move right along, then. Officer Meeks, you’re under arrest.”
     
    Phoebe went straight to her office, closed herself in, and did something she rarely did. She lowered and closed her blinds. Carefully, she sat behind her desk.
    Everything seemed to be throbbing at once. Emotional upheaval, stress, she told herself. All of it pushing the physical discomfort up several notches. She couldn’t take a pill, not here. They made her sleepy and fuzzy-headed, so she settled for four Motrin. And watched her hands shake on the bottle.
    Yeah, the ball was dissolving, she thought, and there was a price to pay for it.
    She didn’t answer the knock on her door, and thought only, Go away. Give me five damn minutes.
    But the door opened, and Liz stepped in. “Sorry. How you holding up?”
    “Got the shakes.”
    “You didn’t have them in there, when it counted.”
    “He looked at me, he looked me right in the eye. He was glad he hurt me. He only wished he’d hurt me more.”
    “And that’s what did him,” Liz pointed out. “I don’t care how coached he is by his lawyer, it’s going to show. He can’t resist, he can’t control it. When this goes to trial—”
    “It’s not going to trial, Liz. We both know that.”
    Liz walked around the