She looked up Barry Delferno’s number. The first time she’d met the bounty hunter, she’d expected someone fat and swarthy with a bucket’s worth of grease plastered on his hair. Instead, she found a tall, sandy-haired muscle man with dancing eyes. He’d asked her out and she’d accepted, only to find out a week later that he was married.

Bounty hunters. No matter what they looked like, they were all sleazeballs.

She punched Delferno’s number into the phone, and a moment later a deep voice resonated inside the earpiece.

“It’s Marge Dunn, Barry,” she said.

“Detective Dunn,” Delferno crooned. “How’s the LAPD’s finest?”

“Not bad.”

“You know, I was gonna call you.”

“Were you now?”

“No shit. I’m divorced, Margie. For real this time. Free and clear. You can check it out, if you don’t believe me.”

“I called for professional reasons, Barry. Got your current caseload in front of you?”

“Margie, Margie, Margie. What is the rush?”

“I don’t chat when I’m on duty.”

“So how ’bout if we chat over drinks?”

Marge ignored him. “We picked up a little girl—around two, curly blond hair, brown eyes, height thirty-two inches, weight twenty-six pounds. I’ve got Polaroids and footprints I’d like to fax over to you. See if we come up with a match.”

“As long as the match is a love match between you and me, my Greek goddess.”

“Knock it off.”

Delferno said, “I love a woman who talks tough. It turns me on. Gets my blood boiling and my—”

“You’re wasting your breath.”

“All right. Be surly. I’ll get you anyway. In the meantime, send me the pics and the prints.”

Marge placed the information into the machine. She said, “Call me back when you’ve got them.”

“How about dinner? Tonight, even. Wait, tonight’s not good. How about tomor—”

“I’m hanging up now, Barry.”

“It’s not nice to alienate the hired help.”

Marge laughed and placed the receiver in its cradle. She poured herself a cup of coffee and waited for Delferno to call back. A few minutes later, her phone rang.

“Dunn,” she answered.

“Nothing,” Delferno said.

“Sure?”

“Positive. Never seen the little tyke. Was she abused?”

“Nope. She seemed to be very well cared for.”

“Foul play with the parents?”

“Could be,” Marge said. “We found blood on her pajamas. Ask around for me, Barry.”

“What do I get in return?”

“What do you want?”

“How about a weekend in Cabo San Lucas? We’ll four-wheel it down to Baja, dip our toes in the gentle warm oceano, and fish for yellowtail.”

“I don’t fish.”

“Then we can sunbathe on the white-sand beaches…no tan lines, Margie.”

“I’m involved with someone else, Barry,” Marge said.

Delferno paused. “I heard you broke up with Carroll.”