The Girl in the Light Summer Dress. Could he possibly use that title?
Who would arrest such a creature? A stern warning, that’s the thing. “My dear. We have a speed limit in here. Harumph. Harumph!”
“Don’t you worry! I’ll just call in a radio check.” It’s the academy again, doing his thinking for him. She has a state ID card; he reads from it, calls her name and date of birth in to the dispatcher.
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“Suspended,” the dispatcher says with a womanly snort of satisfaction. “Out of Florida.”
“Ah, ah, ah . . . ” The cop tries to think. He wasn’t even going to give this girl a ticket, now she’s in his custody. Ah, that light summer dress. That stunning neckline. “Ah, ah, ah. My dear. They’re saying your license is suspended.”
“The bond is a thousand, but you only have to put up 10 percent . . . ”
He thinks of the dispatcher, of Sergeant Stout; he thinks of his own arrest count, which is shamefully low. “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s all gone over the air.”
