“That was today. And I didn’t know it was her. She was test driving an SL550 roadster. And she had the top up.”
“Bad luck for you,” said Karl.
“Bet she looked real hot in it,” said Buddy. They all looked at him again. “What? You were all thinking it. I just said it.” When no one denied it, he sat back, satisfied.
Sullivan said, “I gave her a ticket.” The way the others looked at him, he may as well have confessed to murder. His mouth flattened briefly. “Yeah. I did.”
There was a lengthy silence while his fellow officers contemplated the options. It was Butz who finally spoke up. “There’s only one thing you can do.”
“I’m listening.”
“If it matters at all whether she likes you or not, then you don’t show up for court.”
“What? You mean you think she’ll fight the ticket? The gun had her dead to rights. It was just recalibrated. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Of course, there isn’t,” said Karl. “But eighty-seven in a sixty-five. She’s looking at points on her license. She’ll fight it. Don’t know what she’ll say in her defense, but she’ll have something.”
“She told me the car must have gotten away from her. Benefit of the doubt says she was daydreaming.”
Butz fingered his thick mustache. “Probably so.”
“Maybe daydreaming about you,” said Buddy, batting stubby eyelashes.
“Not funny.” Sullivan fell silent, thinking. “She was trying to run the car flat out.”
Karl said, “Doesn’t matter. Butz is right. Make yourself unavailable when she has to appear. Magistrate will just toss it or grant her a reduced speed and a smaller fine with no points. That’d be a good outcome for her and you’d practically be a hero for doing nothing.”
Sullivan Day considered that. “I don’t know. Feels more cowardly than heroic.”
“I’m not arguing that point. Probably feel that way myself.”
“Better than throwing yourself off a bridge,” said Buddy. “That was going to be my suggestion if Butz hadn’t come up with a better plan. In my scenario she’d figure out how sorry you were for that ticket and grieve mightily at your funeral, and then you’d know for sure that she had some feeling for you.”
“But then I’d be dead.”
“Yes, well, there’s the rub.”
Sullivan removed himself from Butz’s desk, but not before he pretended to stab himself several times in the eye with a fork. “I’ll take it all under advisement.”
“Atta boy, Sully,” said Buddy.
Sullivan had an urge to punch Buddy, even if it was only on the shoulder. He punched out instead. Off duty. Going home.
4
Ramsey leanedagainst the far wall of the racquetball court and slid down until she sat on the floor. She folded her long legs against her chest and then removed her sweatband and used the less damp back of it to swipe at her face and neck. “I’m done,” she said. “You’re too good today.”
Briony Patterson dropped to her haunches beside Ramsey and tapped the edge of her racquet against the floor. “What’s up? There’s something, so don’t try telling me there’s not.”
Ramsey shrugged. “I’m not feeling it. My rhythm’s not there.”
“Uh-huh. Because…?”
“I went to court this morning. You know. About the ticket.”
“Oh, it didn’t go so well, I take it.”
Ramsey stared at her racquet as she idly rolled the handle between her palms. “No, it went well. Dudley didn’t show.”
