We walked down the hall to the playroom, stood in the doorway. Lily was talking to a little girl. The child had pale white skin, lank blonde hair, thick glasses. She was listening intently to Lily when she looked up, spotted me. Her expression didn't change.
Sheba was standing next to the little girl. I moved a bit too close and she growled, taking a step forward. Our relationship was over.
An angry-looking man in a double-breasted silk suit shouldered his way past me into the room. He had longish dark hair, a thick neck, slight Mediterranean cast to his features.
"You heard?" he asked Wolfe.
"I heard. It's your case?"
"No, it's not my goddamned case. But I'm gonna be there. He wants to watch Mary Beth, okay, we'll see how he likes me watching him."
"Rocco…" A warning tone in her voice.
"I know, I know. But…"
Wolfe turned to Lily. "How're we doing?"
"We're doing just fine. Aren't we, Mary Beth?"
The little girl's "yes" was a whisper.
I knew what was going on. The judge had ruled the little girl would have to face the perpetrator in court, not testify over closed-circuit TV like they'd wanted. And she was scared. He'd watch her, his eyes warning her, reminding her. Maybe he'd lick his lips, make a little gesture that only she knew. Maybe she'd go mute from terror. Wouldn't act like a kid on TV. A jury of citizen-hypocrites would talk about how normal the defendant looked. And another child molester would be acquitted. Her little face turned slowly, watching everyone in the room.
I stepped back against the wall, feeling her terror radiate— I've been tuned to that station all my life.
I touched Wolfe's hand. Lightly. "Could I try something?" I asked.
"What?"
"She doesn't want to see him, right?"
Wolfe nodded. We all knew who "him" was. There's always a "him" in Mary Beth's kind of nightmares. Or a "her." Sometimes "them." Never a stranger.
Rocco pushed in between us, his nose inches from my face, hoping I'd take offense. "Who're you?"
"This is a private investigator, Rocco," Wolfe told him. "He's worked with me before."
"Private investigators work for whoever pays them."
"Rocco, come over here a minute." Lily's voice.
Lily took him over into a corner. The little girl patted Sheba, watching.
The tall woman stepped next to me, pinning me between her and Wolfe. Listening.
"It doesn't matter what he can see, right?" I asked. "It's what she can see.
"Right."
"What's the distance from the witness chair to the defense table?"
"I'm not sure," Wolfe said, looking past me to the tall woman. "You know, Lola?"
"I'll find out," she said, making some gesture at Rocco. "Wait in my office," Wolfe told me.
8
A chesty thug stepped across Wolfe's threshold. He looked half my height and twice my width, straps from a shoulder holster over his arms. And an annoyed-looking Rottweiler on a heavy chain in his hand.
"I remember you," he said. Some office Wolfe had: the women looked like fashion models, the men looked like a continuing criminal enterprise.
The Rottweiler snarled his acknowledgment— he remembered me too.
"I'm waiting for Wolfe."
"She let you in?"
"Yeah."
"Bruiser, stay!" he snapped at the dog, leaving me alone.
The Rottweiler watched me, praying I'd try to leave.
9
I was on my third smoke when Wolfe and Lola came back. Wolfe smacked the Rottweiler on top of his broad head. "Bruiser, place!"
The thickly muscled beast walked grudgingly over to a far corner, lay down on a slab of carpet. Pinned me with his eyes.
"He gets along with Sheba?" I asked her.
"Not really. They don't mix much. She has her space, Bruiser has his. Sheba, she's the whole Bureau's dog. Even sleeps here. But Bruiser's mine. Aren't you, Bruisey?"
The Rottweiler made a noise between a yawn and a growl.
"The distance between the witness chair and the defense table is about thirty feet, depending on the line of sight," she said. "Why'd you want to know?"
"I got an idea…something that might work."
Wolfe flashed her trademark smile— the one that made defense attorneys think about switching to real estate work. "And all you need is the defendant's address, right?"
"You misjudge me," I said, trying for an injured tone. "It's nothing like that."
"What do you need?"
"How about a look at the courtroom?"
Wolfe looked across her desk. Lola nodded. "It's after hours," she said.
10
We moved through the marble corridors in a loose diamond-shaped cluster: the thug taking the point, holding Bruiser on his leash. Me to the right, Lily beside me. Wolfe and Lola to the left, Rocco bringing up the rear.
In the center of the diamond, Mary Beth.
Courtroom K-2 was one floor up from the DA's basement. Empty.
Lily escorted Mary Beth to the witness chair. Lola took her place at the prosecutor's table. I sat in the defendant's spot, Rocco next to me. Wolfe stood by the jury box, one hand on the railing. The thug stayed by the door with Bruiser.
"It's your show," Wolfe said.
I took a breath, pulling up the calm, centering…so my voice would carry without cutting.
"Hi, Mary Beth," I called out. "Can you hear me?"
She nodded her head. If she said anything, I couldn't catch it.
"Let's play a game, okay?"
Nothing.
"Okay, Mary Beth? Come on, it'll be fun."
Lily leaned over and whispered something to her. The little girl giggled.
Lily nodded at me. I took a roll of bills out of my pocket, handed some singles to Rocco. He took them without a word, going along.
"Now, Mary Beth, my friend Rocco is going to hold something up. If you can guess what it is, you can have it, okay?"
"Okay." Soft, but audible.
"Don't hold up the whole fucking roll," I whispered to him. "One at a time."
He held up a dollar bill.
Mary Beth said something I couldn't hear.
"What was that, baby?" I called out to her.
"Money."
"That's right. You win."
"And you lose," Rocco said, jumping to his feet, walking over to the girl, handing her the cash. Making a production out of it, like a game-show host. Faint trace of a smile on the child's face.
"This is too easy, huh? Okay, Rocco, you stay there. Let's try something harder. Mary Beth, tell me how many fingers I'm holding up and you win again, okay?"
She nodded.
I held up three fingers.