His tone of voice had been enough for me. I'd have done what he said.
Finally, she lowered her arm. "I'll have your badge if you touch me."
"Striking a police officer is considered a crime, Mrs. Bennington," he said in that deep voice.
Even by moonlight you could see the astonishment on her face, as if somehow she hadn't quite realized any of the rules applied to her. The realization seemed to take a lot of the wind out of her. She settled back and let her cadre of dark-suited lawyers lead her a little away from the nice police officer.
I was the only one close enough to hear him say, "If she'd been my wife, I'd have shot myself too."
I laughed, I couldn't help it.
He turned, eyes angry, defensive, but whatever he saw in my face made him smile.
"Count yourself lucky," I said, "I've seen Mrs. Bennington on several occasions." I held out my hand.
He shook like he meant business, good, solid. "Lieutenant Nicols, and my condolences on having to deal with . . ." He hesitated.
I finished the sentence for him, ". . . that crazy bitch. I believe that is the phrase you're searching for."
He nodded. "That is the phrase. I sympathize with a widow and children getting the money that is due them," he said, "but she makes it awful hard to sympathize with her personally."
"I've noticed that," I said, smiling.
He laughed and reached into his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. "Mind?"
"Not out here in the open, I guess. Besides, you've earned it, dealing with our wonderful Mrs. Bennington."
He tapped the cigarette out with one of those expert movements that longtime smokers use. "If Gordon Bennington rises from the grave and says he offed himself, she is going to go ballistic, Ms. Blake. I'm not allowed to shoot her, but I'm not sure what else I'm going to be able to do with her."
"Maybe her lawyers can sit on her. I think there's enough of them to hold her down."
He put the cig between his lips, still talking. "They've been fu . . . freaking useless, too afraid of losing their fee."
"Fucking useless, Lt. Fucking useless is the phrase you're searching for."
He laughed again, hard enough that he had to take the cigarette out of his mouth. "Fucking useless, yeah, that's the phrase." He put the cig between his lips again and took out one of those big metal lighters that you don't see much anymore. The flame flared orangey red, as he cupped his hands around it automatically, even though there was no wind. When the end of his cig was glowing bright, he snapped the lighter shut and slid it back into his pocket, then took the cig out of his mouth and blew a long line of smoke.
I took an involuntary step back to avoid the smoke, but we were outdoors and Mrs. Bennington was enough to drive anyone to smoke. Or would that be drink?
"Can you call in more men?"
"They won't be allowed to shoot her either," Nicols said.
I smiled. "No, but maybe they can form a wall of flesh and keep her from hurting anyone."
"I could probably get another uniform, maybe two, but that's it. She's got connections with the top brass because she's got money, and may end up having a lot more after tonight. But she's also been f**king unpleasant." He seemed to relish saying the F-word almost as much as smoking the cigarette, as if he'd had to watch his language around the grieving widow, and it had hurt.
"Her political clout getting a little tarnished?" I asked.
"The papers plastered her decking Conroy all over the front page. The powers that be are worried that this is going to turn into a mess, and they don't want the mess to land on them."
"So they're distancing themselves in case she does something even more unfortunate," I said.
He took a deep, deep pull off the cig, holding it almost like someone smoking a joint, then let the smoke trickle out of his mouth and nose as he answered me, "Distancing, that's one word for it."
"Bailing, jumping ship, abandoning ship . . ."
He was laughing again, and he hadn't finished blowing out all the smoke, so he choked just a little, but didn't seem to mind. "I don't know if you're really this amusing or if I just needed a laugh."