working with women is that you can never count on them to think like men.
He watched silently, and he cursed the sailor.
Where had the fool materialized from? How could he get that purse now? Of all the goddamn rotten luck, the first good thing that had come along on his first night out since the papers started that Jeannie Paige fuss, and this stupid sailor had to come along and louse it up.
Maybe he’d go away.
Maybe she’d slap him across the face and he’d go away.
Or maybe not. If she was a prostitute, she’d take the sailor with her, and that would be the end of that.
Why did the police allow the Navy to dump its filthy cargoes into the streets of the city, anyway?
He watched the wiggle of the girl’s backside, and he watched the swaying, bobbing motion of the sailor, and he cursed the police, and he cursed the fleet, and he even cursed the redhead.
And then they turned the corner, and he ducked through the alley and started through the backyard, hoping to come out some two blocks ahead of the pair, hoping she’d have gotten rid of him by then, his fingers aching to close around the purse that swung so heavily from her left shoulder.
“What ship are you on?” Eileen asked the sailor.
“USS Huntuh,” the sailor said. “You-all beginnin’ t’take an intrust in me, redhaid?”
Eileen stopped. She turned to face the sailor, and there was a deadly glint in her green eyes. “Listen to me, sailor,” she said. “I’m a policewoman, understand? I’m working now, and you’re cluttering up my job, and I don’t like it.”
“A what?” the sailor said. He threw back his head, ready to let out a wild guffaw, but Eileen’s cold dispassionate voice stopped him.
“I’ve got a .38 Detective’s Special in my purse,” she said evenly. “In about six seconds, I’m going to take it out and shoot you in the leg. I’ll leave you on the sidewalk and then put in a call in to the Shore Patrol. I’m counting, sailor.”
“Hey, whut you—”
“One…”
“Listen, whut you gettin’ all het up about? Ah’m on’y—”
“Two…”
“I don’t even believe you got an’ ol’ gun in that—”
The .38 snapped into view suddenly. The sailor’s eyes went wide.
“Three…” Eileen said.
“Wal, ah’ll be—”
“Four…”
The sailor looked at the gun once more.
“G’night, lady,” he said, and he turned on his heel and began running.
Eileen watched him. She returned the gun to her purse, smiled, turned the corner, and walked into the darkened street. She had taken no more than fifteen steps when the arm circled her throat and she was pulled into the alleyway.
The sailor came down the street at such a fast clip that Willis almost burst out laughing. The flap of the sailor’s jumper danced in the wind. He charged down the middle of the asphalt with a curious mixture of a sailor’s roll, a drunk’s lopsided gait, and the lope of a three-year-old in the Kentucky Derby. His eyes were wide, and his hair flew madly as he jounced along.
He skidded to a stop when he saw Willis, and then, puffing for breath, he advised, “Man, if’n you-all see a redhaid up theah, steer clear of her, Ah’m tellin’ you.”
“What’s the matter?” Willis asked paternally, holding back the laugh that crowded his throat.
“Whutsamatter! Man, she got a twenty-gauge shotgun in her handbag, tha’s whutsamatter. Whoo-ie, Ah’m gettin’ clear the hell out o’ here!”
He nodded briefly at Willis and then blasted off again. Willis watched his jet trail, indulged himself in one short chuckle, and then looked for Eileen up ahead. She had probably turned the corner.
He grinned, changing his earlier appraisal of the sailor’s intrusion. The sailor had, after all, presented a welcome diversion from this dull business of plodding along and hoping for a mugger who probably would never materialize.
She was reaching for the .38 in her purse when the strap left her shoulder. She felt the secure weight of the purse leaving her hipbone, and then the bag was gone. And just as she planted her feet to throw the intruder over her shoulder, he spun her around and slammed her against the wall of the building.
“I’m not playing around,” he said in a low, menacing voice, and she realized instantly that he wasn’t. The collision with the wall of the building had knocked the breath out of her. She watched his face, dimly lighted in the alleyway. He was not wearing sunglasses, but she could not determine the color of his eyes. He