"Sure. What's a kidnapping on top of everything else?"
"Not a kidnapping, Lily. I'll make a deal with her."
Storm tapped her fingers on the desk, thinking. Lily brushed some of her thick glossy hair away from her face, waiting.
"She won't break her word," I said.
"It's true," Storm added.
"She's clever, though." Lily came back, stubborn-sulky.
"And you're glad enough for that, most of the time," I told her. "What's happening, you're all convinced you're right. You know what Wolfe wants…what she really wants?"
"She wants the killing to stop," Storm said.
"And she wants someone to pay," Lily put in. "That's Wolfe— someone always has to pay."
I sat on a corner of the desk, where I could see both of them. "Once I was involved in this case. Guy killed his mother. Pointed a magnum at her face, blew out the back of her head. The defense attorney put him on a polygraph. Asked him: Did you kill your mother? Answer: No. And the machine said: No Deception Indicated— Truthful. That's when the lawyer called me in. Figured, bad as it looked, it must be that someone else had done it, understand?"
They both nodded. Storm interested, Lily suspicious.
"So I talked to the man, where they had him locked up. I'd seen guys like him before, when I was inside. Anyway, I went back to the lawyer, asked him to try the polygraph again, only this time ask my questions. So they asked him again: Did you kill your mother? No. Then: Did the gun kill your mother? Yes. Were you holding the gun when it killed your mother? Yes."
"What's your point?" Lily wanted to know. "That you have to ask the right questions?"
"What if the guy was telling the truth?" I fired back.
"Huh?"
"What if he was telling the truth? What if it was the gun who killed his mother? Not him, the gun."
"I understand what you're getting at, Burke," Storm said, "but I don't see how it helps us. The gun couldn't do the killing by itself."
"Neither could Luke."
Lily walked right up in my face, her chin tilted at an aggressive angle. "What?" she demanded.
"You know Wolfe, how she is about playing with the law. Remember the time she proved that rapist wasn't having 'flashbacks'? No 'Vietnam Vet syndrome'? Remember when she shredded that 'episodic dyscontrol' defense…when that guy shot his wife and said he had some kind of brain seizure that made him do it?"
"You're a real fan of hers, huh?"
"Oh, chill out, Lily," Storm said. "Burke, all the stuff you talked about, it was Wolfe fighting some sophisticated defense. That's what she does, she attacks…not defends."
"No, that's not what she does. Not all of it. Victims get defended, right?"
"Or avenged." Lily.
"Yeah, or avenged. Sometimes both. But how about this: Luke comes in, okay? The defense is this Multiple Personality Disorder. Insanity, okay? And Wolfe'll know the kid's crazy— no way he's faking— he'll stand up to any test. But you can't end up like Luke unless somebody does something to you. Something real ugly. For a long time."
"You think she'd want to go after Luke's parents? For child abuse?"
"Not for child abuse, Storm. For homicide. Like Luke was the gun, but they pulled the trigger."
Nobody said anything.
I lit another smoke, letting it percolate.
Storm made a noise. "The baby kicked," she said.
I bowed. "She agrees with me."
Lily smiled her Madonna's smile. "You really think she'd go for it?"
"She's your sister," I reminded her. "You tell me."
81
I went by the restaurant the next morning, to check my messages before I called Wolfe. Immaculata was at the register. A fear-jolt hit me— I never saw anybody but Mama there before.
"Where's Mama?" I asked her. "You taking over for her?"
"Downstairs. With Luke."
Something in her voice. I came close, leaned over to her. Her face was set in hard straight lines, white streaks under the golden skin, jaw tight, eyes moist.
"What?"
"He…tried last night. Max had to hold him. Flower…she woke up. He was…like demons in him. When he finally stopped, he just slept. This morning…like it was nothing. I brought him here."
"Do you want…?"
"No! I'm just…"
"I know," I told her. Like trying to sleep in prison. With the cell doors unlocked.
82
I left her there. Called the DA's office. They told me Wolfe was on trial, in Long Island City, Part L-3. Bureau chiefs don't try cases. I put it together. Threw on my lawyer suit and headed out to Queens.
When I walked in the courtroom, Mary Beth was already on the stand. That's the way Wolfe trained them: no prelims, no dancing— come out throwing bombs, try and drop the other guy soon as you hear the bell. Lola was leading the little girl through her testimony, her body language suggesting she was pulling softly, coaxing the child out past her fear. Bringing the monster into the light. Lola's slim body was a gently weaving wand in front of the little girl, pacing back and forth on her high heels, blocking the defendant's view of the witness box.
Sheba sat next to Mary Beth, the little girl's hand on her head. The dog's eyes followed Lola.
"Just one more question, Mary Beth. You told us what he did, what he did to you. It went on a long time— how come you never told anyone?"
"He said…he told me he'd make something bad happen to Mommy. He said he'd made her get sick and die. He showed me…in the paper where a little girl's mother got sick and died. He said he did that to her. Because the little girl told."
"No further questions," Lola said, sitting down as Mary Beth brushed tears off her cheeks.
The defendant's lawyer got to his feet. A fat, jowly man, his hair was plastered to his scalp with sweat, carefully combed up and over his head from one side to advertise his baldness.
"Your Honor, I again renew my objection to the presence of that animal while the witness testifies. The Rulon decision clearly holds that…"
The judge was a regal-looking woman, reddish-blonde hair cut stylishly short, square shoulders, almost a military bearing. I'd seen her before— she started out in Family Court, where they get closer to the truth. Hard to tell her age, but her eyes were old. "Counselor," she said, "the court is familiar with the Rulon case. That involved a witness who testified sitting on the lap of a social worker. Surely it is not your position that the dog is signaling to the witness?"
"No, Your Honor. But…"
"The court has already ruled, sir. You may have a continuing objection, and your exception to my ruling. Ask your questions."
Sheba watched the fat attorney like he was mutton in a three-piece suit.
The questioning wasn't much. The usuaclass="underline" Did she ever watch horror movies? Ever see a porno tape on the VCR in her mother's house? Have bad dreams? Anybody tell her what to say?