Chapter 2

"The case against Julie Miller is dismissed." Charlie Aiken pounded his gavel mildly and waved his hand at the bailiff, Al Rudd. "Mister D'Angini will be held over pending investigation. Next case."

Ben Argon picked lint off the top of his cap and watched the retreating figure of Julie Miller. Her heels made a staccato statement against the marble floor.

He felt Smith's hand on his arm, heard his partner's angry voice. "What happened in there, Ben? Looks to me like the judge went crazy."

Ed Smith had a touch of old woman in him, Argon decided. "Aiken is a bit of a do-gooder. I guess he felt she needed another chance. Besides, it's an election year. Maybe he was campaigning. In any case, it's none of our business any more."

Smith closed the button over his shirt pocket. "He could have found seven different counts to hold her over. She's in deep and we both know it. D'Angini's just a punk but she knows others."

"Okay, stop it." Argon looked at his watch. "It's two-thirty. That recess must have taken an hour and a half. Let's hope nobody's stolen the parking meter on us."

Patrolman Smith nodded and they pushed through the county courthouse doors.

The night outside was edged with the chill of autumn. Only a week ago, the weather had been warm enough for beaches. Tonight the trees shuddered and mourned. The wind against their faces was only a harbinger of what was coming. Their patrol car would probably be stalled several times in snowdrifts before the year ended. But they would get moving again and stay on the move throughout the long winter.

In the car, Argon reached for the speaker and brought it to his lips. A green light blinked on the dashboard until his thumb pushed an upthrust button on the mike. "Patrolmen Argon and Smith," he announced. "Leaving the county courthouse. Open."

The voice replied after a rustle of static, "All clear, Argon and Smith. Fill in Whitebank Avenue. That is all."

Smith was obviously still speculating on the Julie Miller case. Argon had hoped that Whitebank Avenue would have diverted his annoyance but apparently it was taking time. They saw a drunk in the gutter at Second Street and fished him out. A speeder flashed by in a Cad but Ed decided to let him off the hook. Some heart had gone out of him, Argon knew, with Julie Miller's dismissal.

Smith insisted, "I still can't figure it. We get this call out of nowhere that tips us to D'Angini and the doll. We go there, he's got enough weed to start a pharmacy in China. The doll squeals like a stuck pig, so obviously she's not in on the tip-off-and did you notice that Aiken didn't even have her examined by the doc?"

"The examiner doesn't come in until nine in the morning." Argon fixed his eyes on the road ahead. He made a right turn around the bakery and came back on Whitebank.

Smith shook his head. "Could have held her easy. No bail necessary. We'd have had her in the doc's office when it opened."

"You would, you mean. I don't like to stay up later than I have to, except on orders."

"Sure, sure. But listen. The babe goes into the judge's chambers. So tell me, what do they talk about for an hour and a half? I don't think she's smart enough to hold a conversation for that long."

"Why is it so important?" Argon demanded. "Why can't you forget it?"

"I like my work to count," Smith stated. "I don't want to feel like a fool."

"They probably made a deal," Argon stated smoothly. "She probably agreed to give information." The words soothed Smith but not Argon himself. They sounded as though he had seen too many afternoon movies. A deal was what Perry Mason made with fictional D.A.'s, and had nothing to do with Whitebank or its problems. He thought for a while of some of those problems, as seen from a cruising patrol car. Things would get worse, he told himself gloomily. They were underequipped, understaffed, living in the past.

Smith tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, dreamer. It's time. Let's pack up."

Argon nodded and made a turn in the direction of headquarters. Soon they drove under the glowing bulbs that were lit from sunset to sunrise, every night of the year. There was always someone on call there-at least, there was always supposed to be.

Later Argon headed for the outskirts of town. There was always something about the edge of White-bank that made him uneasy. Past a half-finished development, giant weeds took over, almost as tall as the handsome trees that had been bulldozed into the ground to make way for progress. But progress had run into some temporary delays.

Argon imagined loiterers in the weeds, all of them probably needing either aid or detention. He hated what had happened to this special area. As a kid, he had lived nearby.

He remembered high school football games, gang fights with the "new kids" whose families were moving in, the good girls he had danced with and the bad girls who did more than dance.

His eyes narrowed as a young woman came out of the shadows ahead and walked the deserted street. She had pretty blonde hair worn in a ponytail. She wore a prim green skirt, a short white wool coat and a red woolen kerchief. She looked no more than eighteen, but at that distance, she could have been older.

Argon, surprised that he still could be shocked, wondered what the hell so young and attractive a girl was doing on this empty stretch of land. He slowed to zero when he came abreast.

The girl quickened her pace on the walk, staring straight ahead and ignoring Argon's car. In the trickling streetlight, he saw that she was ripe, tender and lovely. He cursed aloud in outrage. Even if she was a tramp, she was crazy to be walking this dismal and dangerous stretch. She had to be in some sort of trouble, he decided. It was the only answer.

He pulled over to the curb, got out of the car and approached her. He knew that it wasn't just a case of doing his duty as a cop. He wouldn't have been able to sleep that night if he didn't make damned sure she got home safely. He saw the girl turn slowly, fear in her eyes, and figured that she had every reason to be scared since he wasn't in uniform. A fine time to get scared, he thought annoyedly, fishing his wallet from his pocket.

"Police," he announced. "I'm off duty. Just the same, suppose you tell me what the devil you're doing out here at this hour?"

She drew the white coat tighter and reached for his wallet. After studying it, she handed it back and looked up at him. "Is it your practice to accost strange young women, Officer Argon? Or do I look like a suspicious character?"

There was breeding and intelligence in her voice and pose but Argon wasn't in the mood to give it more than fleeting admiration. "Don't get snippy with me, young lady," he snapped, glaring down at her. "In case you don't know it, we had four rape cases in this area only last month. Now, I suggest you get in the car and let me drive you back home where you belong."

She hesitated, her head tilted as she stared up at him. "I guess you don't know who I am," she murmured, almost as though it pleased her.

"I couldn't care less," he grumbled. "Now get in the car."

A smile flashed in the poor light and a giggle followed. "Whatever you say, Officer Argon. Actually, I'm rather glad you came along. I was visiting a girl friend and my car is in for repairs. I would have had a long and cold walk home."

In the car, Argon sensed her personality. He noted the subdued tension, the high-strung tone to her voice, the overly alert movements of her eyes as she stole glances at him while he drove. A mixed-up kid, he decided. Pretty as hell but mixed-up. "Where to?" he asked, steering with one hand while he lit a cigarette. Because of the pause that followed, he glanced at her. "Look, Miss, if you're worried about having me drive you up to the door, you can relax. I can drop you off a block away."

She smiled appreciatively and gave him an address. He grunted and headed in that direction. It was a good address but he knew it was probably a phony. Still, she'd probably live in the same neighborhood. "What's your girl friend's name?"

The little blonde giggled. "I lied to you. It wasn't a girl friend at all."

"I didn't think so."

"Does that make you curious?"

"As long as you didn't break the law, it's none of my business."

"Are you always so unfriendly?"

"Always."

"I bet you're a good cop."

"The best."

There was a short silence before she spoke again. "One thing, you've got to be the biggest."

Argon frowned and turned his head to look at her. The kid was gazing at his shoulders and arms and when she realized he was watching her, she blushed and averted her face. He decided it might be wise to keep her talking about herself. "You look as though you've got something on your mind. I'm a pretty good listener in case you're interested. Come on now, what were you doing out there?"

She smiled and shrugged in mild embarrassment. "Walking. I had to get out of the house. Maybe you can understand that. I began to feel blue and ... well, I just had to get out and walk."

"Why should you get to feel blue? You're young and-"

"I know. Pretty."

"It's true."

She stirred restlessly. "That doesn't mean anything. A pretty girl can get just as lonely as a homely one. She can have things that she wants to talk about to people and have nobody who has the time to listen. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I understand that you're young," he answered, his voice deliberately gentle. "When you get to be my age, you'll be glad when people leave you alone. Look, just promise me that the next time you get the blues, you'll pick a safer place to walk."

She seemed annoyed with him. "Everybody has the same answer. You're young. I'm sick to death of hearing it."

They drove in silence to the address she'd given him. Tennyson Circle, with its stately elms, was quiet and darkened, the expensive homes silent and impressive. "Here you are, Miss."

She touched the door handle and then paused. In the light of the dashboard, her face was hauntingly beautiful. It reminded him of another face, a face from the past. She'd been a girl at school, a bad girl, the kind that boys dated on the sly so their friends wouldn't find out and tease them. Argon had dated her once and when he'd used her young and pliant body the same way all the other boys had, she'd told him that she liked him most of all and that she always had and that she always would. Her face had looked the same as the face that he was staring at in that fleeting moment, the face of the nameless young blonde in the white coat and red kerchief.

Suddenly the girl leaned forward and kissed his lips. Before he could react, she jumped from the car and began to run up the quiet street. He listened to her shoes echoing in the dark and reminded himself that it was a safe neighborhood, maybe the safest in town. He felt an impulse to follow her, to destroy that safety, to drag her back into the car and possess the pretty body which she seemingly thought of no real importance.

He shook his head and touched his fingers to the lips she'd kissed. Crazy, mixed-up brat. Probably been had by every stud in school. No, that wasn't true. Not with those eyes. Not with that glow.

Argon started up the car and began to cruise down the street, still wanting her, still angry with himself for the wildness of his thoughts. He was glad he hadn't asked her name or pressed for her real address. A kid that young and pretty and confused could be big trouble.

Then Argon cursed aloud and admitted to himself that he was steering the car in a very definite direction. He was tailing her, damn it, following in the dark to be sure she reached her front door and hoping deep down in his heart that he'd catch up to her first and maybe have another chance to ... to ... to what?