High Noon

certain qualities.”
    “You certainly do.”
    “And she is a married lady with those adorable children. While I am still on the market.” With a wink, the woman extended her hand. “Marvella Starr.”
    “Phoebe Mac Namara.”
    “I do believe I’ve seen you around here, Phoebe—that gorgeous hair of yours. I take a turn around the park most every day. It’s near the police station, you know.”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “I do love a man in uniform. And the mounted unit, they patrol the park. A man in uniform on a horse.” On a lusty sigh, Marvella leaned back, waved a hand over her heart. “I am helpless. I work at Chez Vous. You ever been to Chez Vous, honey?”
    “I haven’t.”
    “Oh, you should come on by some night, catch the show. Being in the theater, I do tend to sleep in most days, but I like to stroll on through the park in the afternoon, get my policeman fix.” She dug into her peach-toned hobo bag, took out a lemon drop. “Candy?”
    “Thanks.”
    Companionably, they sucked on lemon drops, and Phoebe felt better than she had all day.
    “You live around here, too?” Marvella asked.
    “No, actually, I work around here. At the police station. I’m a cop.”
    “Now you shut up!” Marvella poked her in the arm. “Is that the truth? I want to see your gun.”
    Amused, Phoebe folded back her jacket to expose the weapon and badge on her hip. And had Marvella whistling in delight.
    “Pretty thing like you, I’d never have guessed it. But I guess we both know how appearances are deceiving—and it’s what’s inside the cover that counts.”
    “Yes, we both know that.”
    “You know any men in uniform who might be interested in a date with a woman of my particular style?”
    “If they aren’t it’s their loss.”
    “Aren’t you the sweet one!”
    “If I come across any, I’ll send them over to Chez Vous. I bet you can take it from there.”
    “Oh, that’s a solid truth, Phoebe. That’s a solid truth.”
    While she sat, he took pictures. It was such a bonus! He’d never expected to see her walking along, into the square, out again. But here she was, eyes shaded by sunglasses. He wished he could see them. But it was still a bonus. He’d only been scouting around, and lo and behold, here came Phoebe.
    Walking fast—fast as a Yankee—legs striding, hips swinging. Hot under the collar, he was sure of it. And the idea of her anger, her upset, gave him a nice little thrill.
    He wondered if she’d liked the little present he’d left for her. It was too bad, really too bad, he hadn’t been able to stick around, to wait, to position himself to see how she reacted when she found the dead rat.
    Still, they were going to have time, plenty of time to get to know each other again. To see each other. Eye to eye.
    He didn’t know what the hell she and the queer were blabbing on about, but the interlude gave him time for more pictures. And with her running her mouth, she wasn’t going to make him.
    When she rose, walked away, he blew a kiss at her back.
    “See you soon, sweetheart.”
     
    Dave waited until it was nearly the end of shift to summon her. He was on the phone when she stepped into his office, and he held up a finger. “That was my take, yes. I appreciate it. I’ll get back to you.”
    He hung up, swiveled a little right, a little left as he studied Phoebe’s face. “This’ll only take a minute. You probably want to get home.”
    “Monday night’s homework session is often a study of temper and despair. By Friday, we have the hang of it again, only to fall victim to the tradition of two days of vacation. Is there a problem, Captain?”
    “I know IAB’s spoken with you.”
    “Yes.”
    “And I know you’re pissed off.”
    “Yes.”
    “It’s not going to go anywhere, Phoebe. It’s got nowhere to go. But the Meekses have friends in the department, and at City Hall. It’s important to them to save face to some extent.”
    “While your face and mine take the punch,” she tossed back.
    “I’m sorry that insult’s been added to injury. I expect you’ll handle it.”
    “I considered flipping them the bird and going into business as a therapist. Maybe marriage counseling.” She watched his lips quirk. “But considering my own track record in that area, I rejected it and mused on the more entertaining notion of going to a voodoo practitioner and buying a curse. I’m still weighing the pros and cons of that.”
    “Let me know which way you decide. It’s smoke,