said through clenched teeth.
'Never!'
'I saw the way you did that. You definitely hustled me!'
He grinned, picked up the quarters, and handed them to her. 'Shall we?'
They took a cab to Corchran's and went back to the Ladies Room. Steamroller gave them a gap-toothed smile and led them to a corner booth. He swept the table off with the damp rag stuck in his belt and looked at them with his good eye.
'Drinkin'? Eatin'?' he asked.
'We'll start with drinks, and see what happens.'
Thwell, what'll it be?'
'Martini, very dry, straight up, no condiments,' Parver said.
'Condi-what?'
'No fruit or vegetables,' said Flaherty.
'Gotcha. Mithter Flaherty, the uthual?'
'Yep.'
'On the way, sluggerth.' Steamroller swaggered off towards the bar.
'Okay, Parver, what's eating you? Hell, you got everything you could want. You got Darby wired, you got Stoddard. Two capital cases. Want to give me one of them?'
'No, thank you very much,' she said haughtily.
'So what's the problem?'
'It hit me for the first time today, when Marty asked me if I was ready to max out Darby.'
'What do you want to do, throw the switch, too?'
Steamroller brought the drinks and set them on the table. She downed hers and ordered a second.
'That's not what I mean,' she said, then squished up her face. 'Damn! Martinis taste like ether or something.'
'You never drank a martini before?'
'Nope. Usually drink Cuba Libres.'
'Jesus, you dusted that off like it was a glass of milk. Those things are deadly.'
'They come in a real small glass. Nothing to 'em. What were we talking about?'
'You had just said, uh, 'That's not what I mean,' after I said that thing about throwing the switch.'
'Oh, yes, now I remember. The thing is, I've never tried a capital case, Flaherty.'
'You getting stagefright?' Flaherty laughed. 'Kickass Parver's getting weak knees? Come on, it's just another case - think of it as a misdemeanour.'
'That's not what I mean. I'm not worried about winning, that's not it at all. I just… I never really thought about it before.'
'What? What the hell're you talking about?'
'Asking for the death penalty.'
'Ah, so that's it. Anticipating an attack of conscience, are you? Come on, this guy walked up to his wife and shot her in the face with a shotgun. And he choked the little dancer to death. Think about that, he was looking in her face while he was killing her.'
'Stop it, Dermott.'
'No. We're prosecutors, Shana. The last things standing between civilization and the jungle. We don't make the laws, we just uphold them, and the law says that if Darby's convicted of murder one, he's a wrap.'
'I know all that, for God's sake,' she said angrily. 'I didn't come here to hear a rehash of Philosophy 101.' She suddenly got up to leave.
He reached out and gently grabbed her arm. 'Hey, I'm sorry,' he said plaintively. 'Sometimes I get too cynical for my own good. Old habits die hard. I promise no more platitudes. Please… don't leave.'
She looked down at him and smiled. 'No more shit?'
