A nod toward the park. "Dark, I was saying."
"Ah." His eyes returned to the defiled side of his house.
"I'm sorry for this, Mr. Goldschmidt."
"Well, thank you for your prompt response." His mind was elsewhere.
Dance nodded and handed him one of her cards. "If you can think of anything else, please let me know."
"Oh, I will." He looked over the streets, eyes keen.
She watched him put the card into his back pocket, then walked to O'Neil's car. The detective started the engine.
Dance started to get in. Then paused, said, "Give me a minute." And returned to the house, where its owner was preparing to paint over the graffiti. "Mr. Goldschmidt?"
"Agent Dance. Yes?"
"A word?"
"Sure."
"The law on self-defense in California is very clear."
"Is that right?"
"Yes. And there are very few circumstances that will justify killing someone."
"I watch Nancy Grace. I know that. Why do you bring it up?"
"You seemed interested in getting a clear description of the perps who committed this crime. More clear than what you might've seen on a security video." She glanced at the camera under his eaves.
"Like I told you, I didn't see them on the monitor. No, no, I was just thinking: What if I see them in town, or in the neighborhood? I could call the police. If I had a good description."
"I'm simply telling you that it is a crime to harm an individual unless you truly believe yourself or another to be in danger. And damage to property is not a justifiable reason to use force."
"I imagine these people are willing to do a lot more than paint messages. But why are we even having this conversation? There's no reason for them to come back, now, is there? They've already done the damage."
"Do you own a gun?"
"I do, yes. Here's where you ask me if it's registered. Surely you know, in California you don't have to register guns you owned before January first. You may have to jump through hoops to get a conceal/carry permit. Which I don't have. But the shotgun that I own does not have to be registered."
"I'm just telling you that the self-defense right is much more limited than most people think."
"Most people maybe. But I'm quite versed in the law of the land. Nancy Grace, as I was saying." His smile was assured, his light eyes narrow. "Good night, Agent Dance. And thank you again."
Chapter 52
Michael O'Neil pulled up to Dance's house and braked to a stop.
She read texts. "From our office in L.A. Orange County'll upload the crime scene and canvassing reports to you early tomorrow."
He grunted. "Good."
She flipped the lever and pushed open the door, then stepped outside as O'Neil popped the trunk. He didn't get out. Dance walked back to get her suitcase and her laptop bag.
A wedge of light filled the front yard and Jon Boling was stepping out of the house.
As if O'Neil suddenly felt he was being rude, or inconsiderate, he glanced at Boling, then Dance. He climbed out of the car.