Why did the silver burglar want to talk to the fingerprint examiner?

Choices:
A. He wanted to ask her how she memorized fingerprints.
B. not enough information
C. He wanted to talk about the bamboo tree.
D. He wanted to compliment her.
He wanted to compliment her.
I was one of the best fingerprint examiners in the world. I could do things the FBI thought impossible. I could memorize fingerprints. The nearby agencies, including local offices of federal agencies that had their own labs, came to me for help.
One day in a trial a new-hatched defence attorney tried to make me seem neglectful because I hadn't sent the prints from the crime scene to the FBI for verification. The FBI will not look at prints that have already been identified locally. I tried to get that across to him.
Finally I said, “Sir, you don't understand. I don't ask the FBI for help. The FBI asks me for help.”
The courtroom went dead silent. The lawyer choked a bit and looked frantically at the judge, who knew me quite well. The judge slowly nodded. The lawyer choked a few more times, said, “No further questions,” and returned to his seat.
I was the only person in the five-state area in which the silver burglar was hitting who got him on fingerprint evidence. He never left fingerprint evidence . . . except when he did. Every other police agency quit looking, because his MO was unmistakable. We didn't. A detective got prints from a bamboo tree he had used to climb in a window, and I got several prints from items he had handled inside the house.
After the trial he was being led back to the jail and I was walking down the hall. He stopped and said, “I want to talk to that lady.”
The bailiff told him he couldn't talk to the witness, but I said I wanted to hear what he had to say.
He said, “Lady, you're the smartest cop I ever saw, and I hope to God I never see you again.” I think that was the best compliment I ever got.
I have other accomplishments. But I consider my police work the most important.