Strega - Andrew H. Vachss [116]
"This puppy good guard dog, Burke?" she asked.
"She's the best, Mama."
"She—this girl puppy?"
"Women the best warriors," Mama said, then translated it for the cook, who nodded dubiously. "Puppy guard down here?"
"If you want her to," I said. "Watch—and tell your man to keep his hands in sight, okay?"
She nodded. I slapped my side for Pansy to follow me, walking her so her back was in a corner formed by some of the stacked cartons. I took down a few cartons to make a little wall in front of her, about as high as her chest. Her face loomed above the barrier, watching. I knew just what trick Mama would love. "Pansy!" I said, my voice sharp to get her attention. "Friends!" I motioned Mama forward. "Go ahead and pat her," I said.
Mama hadn't gotten where she was by showing fear. She walked right up to Pansy, patting her head, saying "Good puppy!" a few times. Pansy stood still, her eyes on the cook.
"Okay, now step back, Mama." When she did, I got Pansy's attention again. "Guard!" I told her.
"Tell your man to approach like he's going to pat her too, Mama. But tell him not to reach over the barrier, you got it?"
She said something to the cook. His face stayed flat, but you didn't need a translator to see he was suspicious as hell. The poor bastard had gotten about five feet from the barrier when Pansy lunged at him, a blood–chilling snarl flowing between her teeth. He leaped back about twenty feet—the snap of Pansy's jaws was like a thick branch breaking.
"Pansy, out!" I yelled at her. She sat back down, her head swiveling to watch the entire room.
Mama clapped her hands. "Good trick, Burke!" she said. The cook went back upstairs. I rolled the pot of steaming food over to Pansy. "What's in this?" I asked her.
Mama looked insulted. "Beef, pork, lobster, shrimp, good vegetables, plenty rice. All best stuff."
"She'll love it," I assured Mama.
"How come she not eat, then?"
"She'll only eat when she's alone with me, Mama. Let me get her started and I'll come up and make those calls, okay?"
"Okay, Burke," she said.
I waited a minute or two before saying "Speak!" to my dog. A good survivor never shares all his secrets.
85
THE FIRST call was to SAFE. Lily was in a session—they asked if I could leave a number. I told them I couldn't and got a time to call back. They didn't seem surprised.
I got lucky with McGowan—he was in his office for a change.
"You know my voice?" I asked him.
"Sure do, pal." McGowan had a magnificent Irish baritone—he used it for sweet–talking little girls away from their pimps.
"I need a favor. You know Wolfe, the D.A. in charge of City–Wide?"
"Pal, that woman is aces with me, understand? Cases the other prosecutors won't touch—she grabs 'em up. You better not be having a problem with her."
"No problem. I just want you to put in a good word for me, okay? I need to talk with her—I figure she might do it if she knew I was all right."
"My friend, you are not all right if you're looking to sting that woman.
"McGowan, come on. You know what I do—it's part of that, okay?"
"What part?"
I took a breath, thinking it through. McGowan knew his phones could be tapped—he had every honest cop's fear of Internal Affairs.
"Look, all I want is for you to tell her I play the game straight. I'll tell her what I need—she can make up her own mind."
Another silence on the line. Finally his voice came back. "You got it," he said.
I started to ask him to do it tomorrow, but I was talking to a dead line.
Strega answered her phone on the first ring. "I was waiting for you," she said, her voice soft.
"How could you know it was me calling?"
"I know," she said. "I told you before—I always know."
"There's been some progress.
"Tell me," she said, her voice going throaty, playing with the words, stroking them.
"Not on the phone," I said.
"I know what you want—come to my house—come tonight—late, after midnight—come tonight—I'll have what you want."
"I just want—' and I was talking into another