At least she didn’t slam the door in his face.

Under the illumination of a porch lamp, he noticed the winking of metal—multiple studs in her ears and a small stone in the side of her nose. Who knew what was in her belly button? Decker realized he shouldn’t judge by externals—if Yonkie had liked her, she must be a girl of some substance—but he was a middle-aged guy with old-guy prejudices. Trying to be objective, if he looked beyond the holes, he saw a pretty, dark-eyed girl with a clear complexion, an oval face, and dimples in the cheeks. Lots of long curls framed her face. She had her shoulders hunched over as if she was cold, and her arms were folded across her chest. She was unhappy and not afraid to express it.

“I don’t know anything about the vandalism.” Her voice was raspy and low. “But even if I did know anything about the vandalism, I wouldn’t rat on Ernesto.”

“All I want to do is talk for a few minutes,” Decker said.

“Why should I let you in? You could be a rapist!”

Decker smoothed his ginger mustache, aware of Lisa as an angry, young girl wearing a clingy, white tank top and jeans and no underclothes. He could see her nipples even in the poor light. Being alone with her—in private—was not a good idea. He said, “So we’ll talk out here.”

“For all the neighbors to see?”

“Yeah.” Decker smiled. “That’s the point. You’ll feel more comfortable that way.”

“You can come in,” Lisa sneered. “I don’t seriously believe you’re a rapist.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine out here.” Decker kept his face flat. “Can I talk to you on a conceptual level for a moment, Lisa? Let’s say we are given competing attributes—loyalty and justice. Both are admirable traits, agreed?”

“I don’t see the point of all this!” She rubbed her arms. “Also, I’m cold.”

“I’ll wait while you get a sweater.”

“Never mind!”

She was thoroughly sullen, but Decker continued anyway. “If the party in question is accused of doing something criminal, but there is no definitive guilt or innocence, maybe the party deserves the benefit of the doubt, ergo loyalty. But if you know for sure that he did it—because he himself has admitted it—doesn’t his criminal act abnegate his right to expect loyalty, and isn’t loyalty moot because he already admitted the act?”

She swished her curls. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why be loyal when you know he did it?”

“Lieutenant Lazarus, it’s all moot. I don’t know anything about the vandalism. Can I go now?”

Lieutenant Lazarus—using Yonkie’s surname. “It’s Lieutenant Decker,” he corrected. “And it’s a free country. You can leave anytime you want.”

But she didn’t leave.