The mockery remained on her face. “What will you do with it?”
“I’d like to shove it down your throat.”
The men in Panama hats were swallowing hard and looking at each other. One of them braced himself and tapped Kerrigan on the shoulder and murmured, “No need to take offense, fellow. All the lady did was take your picture.”
“You keep out of it,” Kerrigan said.
The man said, “Now look here, I’m one of the owners of this pier.”
Ignoring the man, Kerrigan reached out toward the camera. But Loretta was faster. She opened the panel of the glove compartment, slid the camera in, and closed the panel.
Kerrigan gripped the door, leaned across the steering wheel, and moved his hand toward the glove compartment. The pier owner grabbed his arm and said, “Just a moment here. Just a moment.”
In the next instant the Panama hat was falling off the pier owner’s head. He was shoved backward, with Kerrigan’s flat hand covering his face. He tripped over a loose plank and sat down very hard and stared up at Kerrigan with his mouth opened wide.
Loretta hadn’t moved. She was smiling at Kerrigan and saying, “I can’t understand why you’re so upset. All I did was take your picture.”
His voice was low and even but it whipped at her. “You want it for a souvenir. You’ll show it to your uptown friends. Picture of a man, stripped almost naked, like something on exhibit in a cage.”