I GOT downstairs before Wolfe did. I knew where she'd be parked, and I waited. The tapping of her heels echoed down the corridor just before she stepped into the sunlight on Baxter Street, behind the courthouse. I didn't want to spook her, so I made sure she had me in her sights before I said anything.
"Ms. Wolfe?"
"Yes," she responded, in exactly the same neutral tone she'd used with the defense attorney.
Now that I had her attention, I didn't know what to say. "I…just wanted to tell you that I admire the way you handled yourself in the courtroom."
"Thank you," she said, dismissing me and turning to go.
I wanted to talk to her again, make some contact with her-let her know we were on the same side-but nothing came out. I don't have many friends in law enforcement.
"Can I walk you to your car?" I asked her.
She gave me a brief flash of her smile. "That won't be necessary-it's only a short distance."
"Well," I shrugged, "this neighborhood…"
"It's not a problem," she said, and I caught the dull sheen of the thick silver band on her left hand. I knew what it was-a twine-cutter's ring, the kind with a hooked razor on the other side. The guys in the twine factories run the string through their hands and just flick the ring against the cord when they want to cut it. You put one of those things against a guy's face and you come away with his nose.
"You think that ring's going to keep the skells away?" I asked her.
She looked at me closely for the first time, seemed to be making up her mind about something.
"I appreciate your concern, Mr…?"
"Burke," I told her.
"Oh, yes. I've heard about you."
"Was it a good reference?"
"Good enough-Toby Ringer said you pull your own weight. And that you helped him on some cases."
"Maybe I could help you."
"I don't think so, Mr. Burke. Toby also said you work the other side of the street too often."
"Not when it comes to freaks," I told her.
"I know," Wolfe said, giving me just the hint of what I knew could be a beautiful smile-for someone else.
"It was me who found that dirtbag you just dropped inside, right? You think the Warrant Squad would've turned him up?"
"No," she admitted, "but this case is finished."
We were slowly walking toward her car-a dull, faded blue Audi sedan. The parking lot was bathed in sunlight, but the watchers were there. A pro wouldn't try to strong-arm anyone in the D.A.'s parking lot, but a junkie would.
"That's my car," Wolfe said, reaching in her pocketbook for the keys. I stepped ahead of her like I was going to hold the door-and a massive dark form shot up from the back seat. Its huge head was a black slab laced with gleaming shark's teeth. A Rottweiler-a good lapdog if you were King Kong. They look as if some mad scientist took a Doberman, injected it with anabolic steroids, and bashed its face in with a sledgehammer. I froze where I was-this was one lady who didn't need an escort.
Wolfe opened the door and the Rottweiler lunged forward. "Bruiser! Down!" she snapped, and the beast reluctantly moved back to let her in. She turned to me over her shoulder. "Mr. Burke, if you ever get a case that I'd be interested in, give me a call, okay?"
It was a dismissal. I bowed to her and the Rottweiler, touched the brim of my hat, and moved back where I belonged. The huge beast pinned me with his killer's eyes out the back window as the Audi moved off.