He smiled nervously and found her doing the same.
"That's very thoughtful."
She raised her eyebrows, apparently amused by his choice of words.
"Good luck with your case. When you catch him, before they send him to the electric chair, give him a medal from all of us at Child Affairs, will you?"
He laughed and told her he would. Then he watched her walk to her car and leave. His fingertips felt light and he noticed his breath had gained speed. He was glad it was over. He had done well, hadn't he?
He looked at the card with Patricia Franklin's home phone number and felt a secret thrill. Then he walked back over to the waiter, who was about to clear their table.
"Don't take it away yet, boss." He sat down, and with a sigh tore up Patricia Franklin's business card. "Bring me an order of the conch salad, and a bottle of Tabasco."
-- from Sons of the Storm, copyright 1992 by Ramesh Nyberg