Good girl! There was no evidence that Tricks was telepathic, but Bo sent her the approving thought anyway.
Mr. Gooding scowled at Bo as if she were the cause of all his problems. “I want you to drop the charges against Kyle,” he said abruptly.
A lead-in exchange of pleasantries would have been nice, but so much for that. She suspected Mr. Gooding wouldn’t know “pleasant” if it bit him on the ass. “Why?” She kept her tone calm, the word faintly puzzled.
His face got red and his voice got loud. “Because that bitch he married—”
She held up her hand, cutting off his outburst. “I’m not involved in his marriage. Whether or not Emily presses charges is up to her. The only charges I’m involved in are those of assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest.”
“He said he didn’t know it was you.”
“Yes, I know. I didn’t know it was him, either, when I entered the bakery and found him in a fight with Officer Tucker. How is that pertinent?”
“He’d never have swung at you if he’d known,” Mr. Gooding charged. His face was still red, and his fists were clenching and unclenching.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“The hell you say it doesn’t matter!” His voice rose again.
“Mr. Gooding. Even if he didn’t know who I was, he definitely knew who Officer Tucker was.”
“We don’t live in this town, we don’t know every half-ass cop by sight.”
“That’s possible,” she allowed. “However, I assume you and your son both know what a police uniform looks like. Officer Tucker was in uniform.” God, this was unpleasant. The knots in her stomach were turning into faint nausea; that happy-place stuff wasn’t working. She didn’t enjoy confrontation, but neither did she back down from it. All she had to do was remain calm.
“My boy could do time over this when it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. Neither you nor your deputy are hurt. There’s no point in dragging this out, in ruining his life because he and his sorry-ass wife got in an argument. Tell me what this department needs and I’ll make sure you get it. A new squad car? An add-on to the building so you’ll have an office?”
Well, that was brazen, even for him. Outraged, she sat there for a minute. He probably thought she was weighing the offer; instead she was wondering how hard it would be to hook her feet under the railing of his chair and tip it over backward. Maybe he’d bang his head as hard as she’d banged hers during the scuffle with his son.
No, she couldn’t do it. That way lay madness—intensely satisfying, but still madness. When she could control her tone and keep it even, she said, “Are you seriously trying to bribe me? Because if you are, hold on while I get my phone so I can record all this.” She did just that, fetching her phone out of her bag and tapping a few icons. She laid it on the desk. “Would you repeat all that, please? About buying us a new squad car or adding on to the station building if we’ll drop our charges against Kyle?” She lifted her brows in inquiry.
He looked in real danger of exploding, or maybe stroking out, but he saw the quicksand at his feet. “I categorically deny I was trying to bribe you! That’s ridiculous! These charges against Kyle are ridiculous—”
“Don’t bother recording it,” Loretta said laconically from behind her partition. “I heard it.”
His head whipped around; in his choler, he’d forgotten about Loretta, perhaps because she was out of sight and no calls had come in. The red color in his face deepened into puce. Before he could dig himself in any deeper and the situation became even more of a powder keg, Bo took a deep breath and willed herself back from the edge.
“I suggest we let this case play out within the confines of the law. Kyle has no prior charges—or any that stuck, because you’re always buying him out of trouble, which should tell you something right there”—she had to put that in, accompanied by a flinty-eyed look, but then she pulled herself back to calm—“so I doubt he’ll do any hard time, though the judge might give him some short time in the county lockup. I doubt even that. Likely he’ll end up with probation. I don’t know, but it’s my best guess.”
Instead of seizing the opening, Mr. Gooding went on another angle of attack. “But he’d still have a record. My boy has all he can handle, with his slut of a wife taking everything he has. He can’t even get his own stuff from his own house because she’s got a restraining order against him. She’ll probably sell all his guns—”
Please, Jesus, let it be so, Bo silently prayed. Aloud she said, “I understand Emily packed up Kyle’s things and sent them to your house. What else does he need? Make me a list and I’ll make sure he gets it. And don’t say guns, because I’m sure you don’t think Kyle needs access to any weapons until he’s calmed down.”
“Those guns belong to him.”
“Then they’ll be granted to him in the divorce settlement. Don’t worry about the guns. It isn’t hunting season, and if he did something so stupid with one that even you couldn’t buy his way out, he’d go away for a long, long time. Hard time, too. The best thing you can do now is sit on him and keep him out of trouble so things can calm down.”
His fists were still clenching and unclenching. Unable to corral his fury at being at a disadvantage, he jumped to his feet so violently the chair fell over backward anyway. Tricks gave a startled yelp and shot off her bed, darting to Bo and pressing against her legs.