living. I’m sorry I called you crazy. She’s the one who’s crazy. I mean, who would come rocketing down that path like that over some photographs? I practiced climbing that trail twice in case I had to use it.”
“And where did you think you were going to go from there, Bobby? Swim to Marin?” Eve said.
“You’re a wuss, Bobby,” Mr. Sproole said. “This little cutie brought you back, all trussed up.” He eyed Eve. “And look at you, Deputy Barbieri. I’ve got to say, you’re prettier than any of my four granddaughters ever were.”
Harry wrote down Mr. Sproole’s number and address, gave him a salute. They walked through the garden gate and back to the sidewalk with Bobby Bacon, his wrists now uncuffed, clutching his camera, minus the memory card, walking between them.
Harry said, “Prettier than any of his four granddaughters? He must like cheerleader types.”
“Shut up,” Eve said.
“All of them?” and Harry laughed.
“Hey, he’s right,” Bobby said. “You are pretty. Your hair is a nice natural blond. So how come you’re such a bitch?”
“That’s Deputy Marshal Bitch to you, Bobby.”
They kept him on the sidewalk until three squad cars, sirens blasting, rolled into the driveway. Six cops jumped out, guns drawn.
“That was fast,” Harry said, his creds raised high over his head.
Molly said, “It’s because everyone knows it’s Ramsey’s address.”
There was pandemonium before everything got sorted out. They watched two officers drag Bobby Bacon to a squad car, Bobby yelling about police brutality and freedom of the press. He was still yelling as one of the officers shoved his head down to get him into the backseat. “I want my memory card back.”
Eve grinned, tossed it to one of the officers.
When Eve and Harry walked to the Hunt home, Molly was standing in the doorway. Behind her stood Mrs. Hicks, the babysitter. She looked ready to kiss them. They heard Gage and Cal talking up a storm, and Emma’s voice over theirs, telling them to be quiet, but they didn’t.
Eve took Molly’s arms in her hands, steadied her.
“He’s a paparazzo. He didn’t get any photos. The cops have taken Mr. Bacon downtown, where he’ll be booked for trespassing and trying to escape a federal marshal.”
Gage shouted, “Was that bad Bacon man here to shoot us?”
Eve went down on her knees in front of Cal and Gage, gathered them to her. “Listen up. That guy was a rude photographer, nothing more. The policemen hauled him off to jail. He wasn’t here to hurt anyone.”
Cal said, “But why’d he want to take our picture, Aunt Eve? Daddy’s not here, he’s in the hospital.”
For the almighty buck.
“You and Cal are so cute, I’ll bet he was going to hawk them in Union Square. I bet he could get a buck each for them, at least. Hey, I’m glad you’re speaking English today.”
They gave her an identical look. Gage said, “We’re not stupid, we have to if we’re talking to you. I think he wanted to see Mama cry, didn’t he, Aunt Eve? He wanted to take a picture of her crying.” Cal shook her sleeve.
“Maybe, but we don’t have to worry about him anymore. Now, this man is Special Agent Harry Christoff. He’s FBI, and he’s going to help me find out who hurt your dad.”
“But he’s a stranger, he could be another Bacon—”
Emma rolled her eyes. “You guys want some ice cream?”
Once Emma herded the twins out of the room, Mrs. Hicks, looking stalwart, following after them, Molly said, “They were terrified the man was here to shoot them.”
“So were we,” Harry said.
Molly blew out a breath. “The jerk. What will happen to him?”
“Probably not much,” Harry said. “A bail hearing. Maybe a plea bargain.”
Eve said, “Now that the excitement’s over, Harry and I can start taking a look around outside. Agents Savich and Sherlock will be here any time now. If you want to go back to the hospital, Molly, go right ahead.”
Harry said, “I think
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