The Investigators (Badge of Honor 7)

“Fear not, fair maiden.”

The speedometer was indicating seventy-five when there was the sound of a siren and the image of the flashing lights of a bubble-gum machine on a state trooper’s car in the rearview mirror.

Matt immediately slowed, but did not pull off the highway onto the shoulder. The state trooper pulled alongside. Matt held his identification folder up for the trooper to see.

The trooper made a slow-it-down gesture. Matt nodded his willingness to do so. The trooper’s car slowed and fell behind. Susan turned and looked out the window. The trooper had pulled his car off the road, and was about to make a U-turn back toward Harrisburg.

Back to give a ticket to some ordinary citizen for going five miles over the speed limit.

“That’s outrageous!” Susan said indignantly.

“That’s what’s known as professional courtesy,” Matt said. “You know, like sharks don’t eat lawyers?”

“It’s an abuse of power!”

“It’s legal,” he said. “Traffic officers have the option of issuing a citation or a warning. He opted to give me a warning.”

“Jesus!” she said in contempt.

Five minutes later, with the speedometer indicating sixty-five—fifteen miles over the posted limit—Matt said:

“I really like the smell in here. And I am not talking about the leather.”

Susan didn’t reply.

He drove into the town of Hershey. The delightful smell of cocoa beans overwhelmed the smell of her perfume, and he told her so.

“That may not be a bad thing,” he said. “Have you ever thought of rubbing a Hershey bar behind your ears? Or someplace more feminine? You might be able to save some money that way. What you’re wearing has to be awfully expensive.”

“No,” she said as sternly as she could manage. But she had to smile.

He pulled into the parking lot behind the Hotel Hershey.

Susan started to open the door.

“Wait a minute,” Matt ordered.

She turned and looked at him, and obediently slumped back into her seat.

He turned, so that his back was resting on the door. His hand and arm came to rest on the back of her seat. She could feel the warmth of his hand.

But it’s not as if he’s trying to put his arm around me or pull me over to him or anything.

“What?” she asked.

“It could have been one of those unexplained phenomena one hears about, something that happens only once in ten thousand years,” Matt said.

He’s talking about that damned kiss. Goddamn him, he knows what it did to me.

“What could?”

“On the other hand, it could well be a harbinger of heaven on earth,” Matt said.

“Harbinger of heaven on earth”? My God! Give credit where it’s due. That’s one hell of a line.

“I think, before we have our supper, in the interest of scientific research, let the chips fall where they may, so to speak, we should attempt the experiment again.”

“Matt . . .”