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to look innocent.
    "I made a citizen's arrest," Jake protested. In Tuna Creek, no one questions a citizen's duty to help the law out from time to time. You can split hairs all you want ... Your Honor ... but the fact is that this joker is one of the creeps who attacked you."
    She blinked rapidly, frowning harder as her gaze went to the man Jake held. Her eyes narrowed to grim slits as she recognized him. Her breath made a slow hiss. Her hands, resting on the computer's keyboard, trembled then clenched.
    "Mr. Coltrane," she said formally, straightening her shoulders, "the court appreciates your help, and the arrest is duly noted." She motioned for one of the uniformed officers to come over. The officer rushed forward. "I'm going to file aggravated assault charges against this man," she told the officer. "The baled-up one, not the other, despite the fact that he's disrupted the court with his irresponsible actions..."
    "Aw, don't be mean, your honor," the purple-panted hooker called from the pews. "If a man did something that nice for me, I'd take him home and—"
    "Order!" Vivian thumped her gavel down. Tom Crawford had one arm flung casually across her desk, holding out a document. She hit his fingertips by accident. 38
    Just a little Bit Guilty
    by Deborah Smith
    Tom yelped. Vivian's face went white as the spectators and most of the detectives repressed giggles.
    "Viv," Jake began desperately. "Your Honor, I mean. I thought I was doin' the right thing." He spread his big hands in front of him, the gesture beseeching and frustrated. "I don't know the rules here. I just know that men who beat up women shouldn't be out on the streets. That's no different here than anywhere else. But I apologize for upsettin' you ... upsettin' the court, I mean. I sure didn't start out to do that." He stuck his hands into the pockets of his rugged coat and gazed at her in silence for a moment. She looked back, shaking her head slowly, her expression formal and reserved. She seemed about to pop with anger.
    "The court thanks you again," she said finally. Her voice had no tone at all. He nodded dully.
    Well, that was that.
    He tipped a finger to his forehead in good-bye and turned on his heel, striding down the aisle. An old man leaned out of a pew and hissed at him wordlessly, toothlessly. Several women in the audience made little kissing sounds and laughed.
    Jake squared his back and felt miserable.
    Vivian watched him go with tear-filled eyes. I've never met anyone like you before,, Jake Coltrane. What am I going to do ?
    * * * *
    Like its owner, Jake Coltrane's little apartment building was sturdy, basic and old-fashioned.
    39
    Just a little Bit Guilty
    by Deborah Smith
    Vivian slowly climbed the wide concrete steps. Her eyes assessed the fading red brick and confused architectural styles—the arched, Spanish-style windows, most of them boarded over, the ornate cornice, the gated alcove that led into a courtyard at the main entrance. She estimated the twostory building was split into about six apartments, upstairs and down.
    She glanced up and down the street. Small bungalows and old Victorians crowded up to the narrow, tree-lined sidewalks. Some of the homes were freshly renovated, others were still shabby. The whole street looked that way—a mixture of hope and despair, the future and the past. Vivian tested the complex's peeling, wrought-iron gate, fingering the new padlock and chain.
    Peering through the bars, she saw an old fountain surrounded by patchy winter grass and a few scraggly shrubs. But the shrubs had been carefully pruned and were necklaced in rich mounds of fresh soil and mulch.
    Jake's work. It must be. What would a farmer do first after inheriting a run-down building in the middle of the city?
    Tend to his land, of course.
    Vivian looked up at the apartment on the front side of the building to her right. Its windows weren't boarded over, and light shown through them.
    "What now? Should I throw a rock at his window panes?"