Just Right (Part 17)
Wolfe: Black & White & Red all over
She was starring at me when I walked in — black hair, face that looked familiar somehow, and the end of a snub-nosed revolver, something small and easily concealed. Cop.
I dropped my keys on the stand next to the door and looked around. “Cleaning lady quit last week, but since you’re here…” I let it hang in the air between us — ice breaker, smooth — but she didn’t budge. “Well, I’m not one for small talk either, so let’s get right down to it. No foreplay. Wanna see my badge or my gun first? You know I’m a cop. You’re in the wrong fucking house, lady.”
She stared at me and winced, closed her eyes for a second. I saw the barrel waiver — all the time I needed.
Three steps — long distance to cross when there’s a gun pointed your way, but I’d always been quite quick, silent. My name said it all. Before you knew it, my jaws were clamped around you and you hadn’t even caught a whiff of my scent. But that was a long time ago, and her aim was up and…
