the one–way bronze–glass panel. Lola opened the door, wearing an electric–blue shantung silk dress, party makeup still on her face.
"Come on," she said, walking away so I'd follow, "she's out back." Hardwood floors, polished. Almost no furnishings. The living room had a vaguely Japanese tone to it, but I didn't get a chance to stop and look, feeling the presence of someone behind me.
The backyard was huge. A giant cherry tree stood in one corner, its branches blocking the sky. A hammock in the open space, brick barbecue, a padded weight lifter's bench. Bird feeders were suspended from the tree limbs that ran parallel to the ground.
I walked onto the fieldstone patio. Wolfe was seated at a butcher–block table, an overflowing ashtray at her elbow. The woman who'd been behind me walked around to my side, guiding me to the table without touching me.
"This is Deidra," Wolfe said. A big woman, more curvy than hefty, with short–cropped dark hair and a winsome face. Black Irish, Italian, Jewish—couldn't tell, it was all there. "She works with us too. You've met the others." Waving her hand around, eyes not leaving my face.
I sat down. A thick shadow moved in against Wolfe's hip. "Sit, Bruiser," she said, sweetness in her voice.
"Beautiful place you have here," I said, lighting a smoke, waiting for the others to step back, give us room to talk privately.
"I like it," she said, even–voiced. "Nice days, I can walk to work."
"You like birds?" I asked, looking around.
"They're really Bruiser's birds. He was raised with them. In the backyard, when he was just a tiny puppy, he used to lie in the sun. And the birds would come. They got used to him. I even have a picture somewhere of a sparrow perched on Bruiser's head. When a cat comes into the yard, his birds scream for him. And out he comes."
"That must be a pain in the neck."
"No, he gets in and out by himself. Dog door."
"If it's big enough for him, it's big enough for a person."
"No, it really isn't. We tried. Even Lola couldn't get through it."
The tall woman flashed a smile in the darkness.
"So this is a cat–free zone?"
"It sure is. One day I came out after this awful racket and there was this Siamese lying in the yard. In two pieces. The owner was my neighbor, claims he's a real animal lover. He came over screaming and yelling, said the cat was just following its natural instincts, hunting birds."
"What'd you tell him?"
"Bruiser was just following his natural instincts too. Protecting his territory. And my Bruiser doesn't invade other people's property like his cat."
"What'd he do?"
"Sued me in Small Claims Court." Wolfe chuckled. "The judge told him his cat was a trespasser and Bruiser had used self–help."
"Friend of yours?"
"No judge is a friend of mine," a chill lacing her speech, making sure I got it.
"Mine either."
"I know. We have a mated pair of cardinals living here. Blue jays, robins, doves. Even a stupid woodpecker who tries the cherry tree every now and then."
"Nice and peaceful."
"Yes."
She was going to wait. And I didn't know what she was waiting for. "I wanted to talk to you," I said.
"Talk."
"Alone."
"Not a chance, Mr. Burke. I'm not ungrateful for occasional help you've provided to City–Wide, but I'm not playing myself out of position."
"Neither am I. What if…just for the sake of argument…I wanted to discuss something with you…something that maybe I wouldn't want to admit I said if it ever went near a courthouse? I could say it to you, and then it's your word against mine. But if I said it to everyone, then I'm up against it."
"You don't trust me?" Hint of a smile.
"Sure, I trust you. It's how much that I'm wrestling with."
Wolfe lit another cigarette, patting her dog. At home, at peace. The redhead, Amanda, walked over, her hands full of papers like she was still in the office. Rocco and Floyd were doing something around the barbecue, arguing, it sounded like.
"Take your time," Wolfe said.
Fuck it. "I'm
"Come on," she said, walking away so I'd follow, "she's out back." Hardwood floors, polished. Almost no furnishings. The living room had a vaguely Japanese tone to it, but I didn't get a chance to stop and look, feeling the presence of someone behind me.
The backyard was huge. A giant cherry tree stood in one corner, its branches blocking the sky. A hammock in the open space, brick barbecue, a padded weight lifter's bench. Bird feeders were suspended from the tree limbs that ran parallel to the ground.
I walked onto the fieldstone patio. Wolfe was seated at a butcher–block table, an overflowing ashtray at her elbow. The woman who'd been behind me walked around to my side, guiding me to the table without touching me.
"This is Deidra," Wolfe said. A big woman, more curvy than hefty, with short–cropped dark hair and a winsome face. Black Irish, Italian, Jewish—couldn't tell, it was all there. "She works with us too. You've met the others." Waving her hand around, eyes not leaving my face.
I sat down. A thick shadow moved in against Wolfe's hip. "Sit, Bruiser," she said, sweetness in her voice.
"Beautiful place you have here," I said, lighting a smoke, waiting for the others to step back, give us room to talk privately.
"I like it," she said, even–voiced. "Nice days, I can walk to work."
"You like birds?" I asked, looking around.
"They're really Bruiser's birds. He was raised with them. In the backyard, when he was just a tiny puppy, he used to lie in the sun. And the birds would come. They got used to him. I even have a picture somewhere of a sparrow perched on Bruiser's head. When a cat comes into the yard, his birds scream for him. And out he comes."
"That must be a pain in the neck."
"No, he gets in and out by himself. Dog door."
"If it's big enough for him, it's big enough for a person."
"No, it really isn't. We tried. Even Lola couldn't get through it."
The tall woman flashed a smile in the darkness.
"So this is a cat–free zone?"
"It sure is. One day I came out after this awful racket and there was this Siamese lying in the yard. In two pieces. The owner was my neighbor, claims he's a real animal lover. He came over screaming and yelling, said the cat was just following its natural instincts, hunting birds."
"What'd you tell him?"
"Bruiser was just following his natural instincts too. Protecting his territory. And my Bruiser doesn't invade other people's property like his cat."
"What'd he do?"
"Sued me in Small Claims Court." Wolfe chuckled. "The judge told him his cat was a trespasser and Bruiser had used self–help."
"Friend of yours?"
"No judge is a friend of mine," a chill lacing her speech, making sure I got it.
"Mine either."
"I know. We have a mated pair of cardinals living here. Blue jays, robins, doves. Even a stupid woodpecker who tries the cherry tree every now and then."
"Nice and peaceful."
"Yes."
She was going to wait. And I didn't know what she was waiting for. "I wanted to talk to you," I said.
"Talk."
"Alone."
"Not a chance, Mr. Burke. I'm not ungrateful for occasional help you've provided to City–Wide, but I'm not playing myself out of position."
"Neither am I. What if…just for the sake of argument…I wanted to discuss something with you…something that maybe I wouldn't want to admit I said if it ever went near a courthouse? I could say it to you, and then it's your word against mine. But if I said it to everyone, then I'm up against it."
"You don't trust me?" Hint of a smile.
"Sure, I trust you. It's how much that I'm wrestling with."
Wolfe lit another cigarette, patting her dog. At home, at peace. The redhead, Amanda, walked over, her hands full of papers like she was still in the office. Rocco and Floyd were doing something around the barbecue, arguing, it sounded like.
"Take your time," Wolfe said.
Fuck it. "I'm
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