“You’re armed,” Heath said. “This is assault with a deadly weapon.”
“I’m going home,” the woman said, speaking for the first time. “I’ll telephone Mr. Wolfe, or my husband will, and we’ll see about this. I brought my dog to the park, and this gentleman and I happened to get into conversation. This is outrageous. You won’t dare to harm my dog.”
She got up, and the collie was instantly erect by her, against her knee.
“Well,” I conceded, “I admit I hate to shoot a dog. I also admit that Mr. Wolfe likes himself so well that he’ll steal the throne on the Day of Judgment if they don’t watch him. So you go on home with Towser, and Saul and I will call on the police and the FBI, and I’ll tell them what I saw, and Saul will tell them what he saw and heard. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you can talk them out of believing us. We have our reputations just as you have yours.”
They looked at each other. They looked at me and back at each other.
“We’ll see Mr. Wolfe,” the woman said.
Heath looked right and then left, as if hoping there might be someone else around to see, and then nodded at her.
“That’s sensible,” I told them. “You lead the way, Saul. Eighty-sixth-Street entrance.”
VIII
We left the collie in Herb’s taxi, parked at the curb in front of Wolfe’s place. There has never been a dog in that house, and I saw no point in breaking the precedent for one who was on such strained terms with me. Herb, on advice, closed the glass panels.