I was when he was being mugged.’’ She gave him her friend Jill’s address.
He gave in. He drove to Jill’s apartment, went to the door, spoke to an obviously intoxicated and amused Jill, and came back to the squad car. He let Meredith out of the back of the squad car and took off the handcuffs. It was cool in the night air, and Meredith felt self-conscious and uncomfortable in her garb, even though the police officer knew the truth now.
‘‘I’m really sorry,’’ he told her with a grimace as he met her grey eyes. ‘‘I didn’t recognize you. All I knew was what Mr. Hart told me, and he was too upset to think straight. You have to admit, you don’t look very professional tonight.’’
‘‘I do realize that. Mr. Hart cares about his brother, and he doesn’t know what happened,’’ she pointed out. ‘‘He walked in and saw his brother on the table and me dressed like this,’’ she indicated her clothing, ‘‘and his brother said his wallet and cell phone were missing. He doesn’t know me from a stump. You can’t blame him for thinking the worst. But those two men who hit him would have gotten his wallet if I hadn’t come along, and they’re still on the loose.’’
‘‘Can you show me where you found him?’’ he asked.
‘‘Of course. It was just down the sidewalk, that way.’’
She led and he followed her, with his big wide-angle flashlight sweeping the sidewalk and the grass as they walked. She pointed to an area of flattened grass. He left her on the sidewalk and gave the area a thorough scrutiny, looking for clues. He found a candy wrapper and a cigarette butt.
‘‘I don’t guess you know if Mr. Hart smokes or likes candy?’’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘‘Sorry. All he told me was his brothers’ name and where they lived. I don’t know anything more about him.’’
He stood up. ‘‘I’ll ask his brother later. Wait here while I call for one of the technicians to bag this evidence,’’ he told her.
‘‘Okay,’’ she said agreeably, drawing the feather boa closer. It was getting cold standing around briefly clad, waiting for crime scene investigators. ‘‘Somebody’s going to love being turned out of bed to come look at a cigarette butt and a candy wrapper,’’ she stated with helpless amusement.
‘‘You’d be surprised at what excites those guys,’’ he chuckled. ‘‘Catching crooks isn’t exactly a chore to them. It’s high drama.’’
‘‘I hope they catch these two,’’ she said firmly. ‘‘Nobody should have to be afraid to walk down the streets at night. Even after dark, dressed like this, alone,’’ she added pointedly, indicating her clothes.
‘‘Good point,’’ he was fair enough to admit.
He called in his location and requested crime scene technicians. Meredith was ready to go home, but she couldn’t leave until she’d given the policeman a statement for his report. She sat in his car, with the overhead lights on, writing out what she knew of the attack on Leo Hart. It didn’t take long, because she didn’t know much.
She handed it back to him. ‘‘Can I go home now?’’ she asked. ‘‘ live with my father and he’s going to be upset because I’m coming home so late. I can walk. It’s only about three blocks from here.’’
He frowned. ‘‘Your father is Alan Johns, isn’t he?’’ he asked. His expression changed. ‘‘Do you want me to go with you?’’
She didn’t usually flinch at facing her irate parent. She was gutsy, and she could handle herself. But tonight, she’d been through a lot. ‘‘Would you?’’ she asked, uneasy because her fear was visible.
‘‘No problem. Get in.’’
He drove her to her house and went to the door with her. The house was dark and there was no movement inside. She let out a sigh of relief. ‘‘It’s okay. If he was awake, the lights would be on. Thanks, anyway,’’ she said with a smile.
‘‘If you need us, call,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m afraid I’ll be in touch again about this. Rey Hart already reminded me that his brother is our state attorney general. He’s not going to let this case go until it’s solved.’’
‘‘I don’t blame him. Those guys are a menace and they’re probably still running around looking for easy targets to rob. Take care.’’
‘‘You, too. And I’m sorry about the handcuffs,’’ he added, with the first smile she’d seen on his lean face since her ordeal began.
She smiled back. ‘‘My fault, for wearing a costume like this on the streets,’’ she admitted. ‘‘I won’t do it again. Thanks for the ride.’’
Back at the hospital, Rey Hart sat by his brother’s bedside until dawn, in the private room he’d obtained for him. He was worried. Leo was the hardiest one of the lot, and the most cautious as a rule. He was the prankster, always playing jokes, cheering them up in bad times. Now, he lay still and quiet and Rey realized how much his sibling meant to him.
It infuriated him that that woman had thought nothing of robbing his brother while he was sick and weak and helpless. He wondered what she’d hit him with. She wasn’t a big woman. Odd, that she’d been able to reach as high as Leo’s head with some blunt object. He recalled with distaste the way she’d been dressed. He was no prude, but in his early twenties he’d had a fling with a woman he later found out was a private call girl. He’d been infatuated with her, and thought she loved him. When he learned her profession and that she’d recognized him at once and knew how wealthy he was, it had soured him on women. Like his married brothers had been, and Leo still was, he was wary of females. If he could find a man who could bake biscuits, he told himself, he’d never let even an old woman into the house ever again.
He recalled their latest acquisition with sorrow. He and Leo had found a retired pastry chef who’d moved in with them—the last of the Hart bachelors—to bake their beloved biscuits. She’d become ill and they’d rushed to the drugstore to get her prescriptions, along with candy and chocolates and a bundle of flowers. But her condition had worsened and she’d told them, sadly, that the job was just too much in her frail state of health. She had to quit. It was going to be hard to replace her. There weren’t a lot of people who wanted to live on an isolated ranch and bake biscuits at all hours of the day and night. Even want ads with offers of a princely salary hadn’t attracted anyone just yet. It was depressing; like having Leo lying there under white sheets, so still and quiet in that faded striped hospital gown.
Rey dozed for a few hours in the deep night, used to sleeping in all sorts of odd positions and places. Cattle ranchers could sleep in the saddle when they had to, he thought amusedly, especially when calving was underway or there was a storm or they were cutting out and branding calves and doing inventory of the various herds.
But he came awake quickly when Sanders, the police officer who’d arrested that woman last night, came into the room with a murmured apology.
‘‘I’m just going off shift,’’ Officer Sanders told Rey. ‘‘I thought I’d stop by and tell you that we’ve gone over the scene of the attack and we have some trace evidence. The detectives will start looking for other witnesses this morning. We’ll get the people responsible for the attack on your brother.’’
Rey
