JOHNNIE GROANED. “What’s the big idea?” Mike doubled his fists. “The big idea is that you’re to put your hands out in front of you and climb up those stairs.” She was little but there was nothing soft about her voice or the gun. “You need some help, Trudy?” There was someone behind the chenille curtain now. Someone with a thick accent. It was Dorp. “I found these two out in the street.” Anxiety popped his eyes. “They send no message?” “I don’t know. I don’t think they had time.” “What were they doing?” “Talking to those men fixing the street.” Dorp scowled. “Can you hold them here while I get together everyone? We must decide what now to do.” “You’re darn right I can hold them,” she stated. “One off beat and I’ll get trigger finger.” Dorp waddled upstairs. “Listen, Trudy.” Johnnie tried to reason with her. “Mike’s a cop. You can’t shoot him.” “Keep your hands up,” she commanded. “A dead cop’s just as dead as a dead pigeon.
