Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [94]
“Huh?” Biff looked puzzled.
“My cousin’s right,” Judith said, although she got to her feet. “If you’re serious about going to headquarters, you’ll have to let us change clothes. If you merely want to question us, please sit down so we can have a conversation.” She looked Biff right in the eye. “My husband’s a retired policeman. I know the drill, and I doubt that you have any real evidence other than some fingerprints, which we can easily explain.”
“So start by explaining how the jewels got in your safe?” Biff demanded.
“Obviously,” Judith said, keeping her voice calm, “we can’t.” She had gone over to the honor bar next to the armoire. “Shall we behave in a civilized manner and have a drink?”
Captain Swafford’s expression was stolid. “Certainly not.”
“Not what?” Renie shot back. “Have a drink or behave in a—oh, never mind!” She waved her hands in disgust.
Biff, however, was watching Judith remove the expensive liter of gin from the armoire. “Well…I don’t usually drink on duty, but it’s kinda late, and I could use a little pick-me-up. How about you, Buzzy?”
Buzz Cochran, who looked as if he’d be more comfortable in the frosh section of a Cal–Stanford football game, shook his head. “You know I don’t drink. Sir,” he added in a deferential tone.
“That’s because you’re probably not of legal age yet,” Biff muttered. “You got a lot to learn, kid.”
Biff looked not at Judith but at the gin bottle. “On the rocks,” he said.
The captain let out a heavy sigh. “I daresay I could use a jot of brandy, if you have it.”
“A Coke, please?” Buzz said in a small voice.
“Sure,” Judith responded, opening the honor bar. “Coz?”
“There’s Drambuie in there,” Renie said. “Let’s split it.”
Judith didn’t argue.
“I thought you were gonna change your clothes,” Biff said as Judith poured the drinks into every available clean glass.
“You mean,” Judith said, handing Biff his gin rocks, “we still have to go to the station?”
“It’s only three minutes away,” Biff replied, sniffing at his glass. “Hey, this is really good stuff. Go ahead, put on your duds. We won’t use the cuffs, but we gotta follow procedure.” He turned to Buzz. “Take a note, kid. This is how a real cop works.”
“You mean,” Buzz said, aghast, “I have to drink gin?”
“Nah,” Biff responded with an avuncular expression, “but it sure helps.”
“Good grief,” Judith muttered, warily checking Renie’s reaction.
Renie, however, stood up. “Why not? What would a trip to San Francisco be like without getting arrested? In my day, it was a badge of honor.” She downed the Drambuie in one swig and sashayed into the bedroom. Judith followed with a less flamboyant gait.
As soon as the bedroom door was closed, Renie began to choke. “My God, that stuff’s strong!” she gasped, clutching her throat. “I’d forgotten why you’re supposed to sip it!”
“Show-off,” Judith chided. “Honestly, this is ridiculous!”
“Of course it is,” Renie responded. “That’s why we’re not wearing our new clothes. We’ll wear the comfortable yet tasteful outfits we wore on the plane—sweats and slacks. Can you imagine what the central police station is like on a Saturday night?”
“Good Lord,” Judith groaned. “I can. But I don’t want to dwell on it.”
Five minutes later, Judith and Renie presented themselves to Biff, Buzz, and the captain. Swafford announced that his responsibilities were done for the time being, but he’d keep in touch with the police. Meanwhile, he had to pay a call on Erma Giddon. Doffing his braided cap, he left the hotel suite.
“Jail,” Renie murmured as they walked to the elevator, “or Erma? Which is worse?”
Judith merely shook her head. “At least we’re not in handcuffs,” she said.
Buzz drove the unmarked police car as carefully as if he were pushing a baby buggy. They practically crawled through the Stockton Street Tunnel, even though traffic was comparatively light so close to midnight. The