'You know why I went to the Roundhouse last night?' Matt asked.
Wohl had to think a moment before recalling that Matt had been sent to Personnel by Staff Inspector Weisbach.
'There was some sort of a Harrisburg connection?' Wohl asked.
Coughlin's face indicated that he was having a hard time holding his questions about that until later.
Matt nodded.
'Something that would justify you being in Harrisburg on police business?' Davis asked.
'What Matt is working on is sensitive,' Coughlin said. 'There are people we don't want to know he'll be going to Harrisburg.'
Walter Davis confirmed Wohl's realization that stupid people do not get to be senior FBI officers:
'An internal matter, eh?' Davis said. 'Well, I can probably help you there a little, if you like. The chief of police there is not only an old friend, but he owes me a couple of favors. You tell me what sort of a cover story you'd like for Payne to have, and I'll see that it's leaked from the chief's office.'
'That could be very useful,' Wohl said, thinking out loud.
'There is something else,' Davis said. 'Payne can move easily in the same social circles as the Reynolds woman; that could be very useful, I would suspect.'
'I'd have to clear Matt working with you on this with the commissioner,' Coughlin said. It was his last line of defense.
'I don't think that will pose a problem, Denny,' Davis said. 'The last time I had lunch with the mayor-here, as a matter of fact-he gave me quite a speech about these people who blow up medical-research facilities because they use animals. He called them something I wouldn't repeat in mixed company. He said they were more dangerous to the country than most people realized. I have the feeling that if he knew about this, he would 'suggest' to Commissioner Czernich that it was a splendid idea.'
You may be an ass, Walter Davis, Peter Wohl thought, but you are not a stupid ass.
TEN
When the telephone rang in the elegantly furnished study of his South Philadelphia residence, Mr. Vincenzo Savarese, his jacket removed, his stiffly starched cuffs turned up, his eyes closed, was playing along from memory with a tape recording of the Philharmonica Slavonica 's recording of Max Bruch's Violin Concerto in G Minor, Opus 26, on a circa 1790 G. Strenelli violin for which he had paid nearly fifty thousand dollars.
Mr. Pietro Cassandro, a very large, well-tailored forty-year — old who faithfully paid federal and state taxes on his income as vice president of Classic Livery, Inc., where his duties were primarily driving the Lincolns and Cadillacs in which Mr. Savarese moved about town, frowned when the telephone rang. Mr. S. did not like to be disturbed when he was playing the violin.
Cassandro looked at Mr. Savarese to see his reaction to the ringing telephone. Only a very few people had the number of Mr. Savarese's study.
Mr. S. stopped playing and looked at Cassandro. Then he pointed with the bow at the telephone.
Cassandro picked it up. 'Yeah?' he said, listened a moment, then spoke to Mr. S.: 'It's the lawyer.'
'Mr. Giacomo?' Cassandro nodded. 'Tell him I will be with him directly.'
Mr. Savarese walked to the reel-to-reel tape recorder and turned it off, and then to a Steinway grand piano on which he had placed the Strenelli violin's case, carefully placed the violin, and the bow, in the case, and then closed it. He then pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his shirt collar and laid that upon the violin case.
Then he walked to Cassandro and took the telephone from him.
'Thank you for returning my call, Mr. Giacomo,' Savarese said.
'I'm sorry it took me so long,' Armando Giacomo said. 'I was in court.'
'So your secretary said.'
'How may I be of service?'
'I thought you might be interested in hearing that I have had a report from my daughter about my granddaughter. '
'Yes, I would.'
'Dr. Payne has seen her three times so far,' Savarese said. 'Late last night. The first thing this morning, and at lunch. My granddaughter is apparently very taken with her.'
'I'm glad to hear that.'
'I am grateful to you, Mr. Giacomo, for arranging for me to meet with Mr. Payne.'
'I was happy to have been of service.'
'And, of course, I am very grateful to Mr. Payne for speaking to his daughter on behalf of Cynthia. That is one of the reasons I asked you to call.'
'Brewster Payne was sympathetic to your problem. He is a very nice man.'
'What I wanted to do was ask your advice about making some small gesture of my appreciation to Mr. Payne,' Savarese said.
'I don't think that's necessary, Mr. Savarese.'
'I have several bottles of some really fine cognac I thought would be appropriate.'
'May I speak freely, Mr. Savarese?'
'Of course.'
'You went to Mr. Payne as a father and grandfather asking help from another father. He understood your problem and did what he could to help, one father helping another, so to speak. Under those circumstances, I don't really think that a gift is in order.'
Savarese didn't reply for a long moment.
'You think it would be inappropriate? Is that what you're saying?'
'Yes, both unnecessary and inappropriate.'
'You're suggesting he would be offended?'
'Let me put it this way, Mr. Savarese,' Giacomo said. 'If I had gone to Brewster Payne as you did, and he had responded as he did, I would not send him a gift. I would think that in his mind he had done only what a decent human should have done, and therefore, no attempt to repay-'
'I take your meaning, Mr. Giacomo,' Savarese interrupted him. 'And I respect your wisdom and trust your judgment in matters of this nature.'
'Thank you,' Giacomo said.
He hoped that his relief at being able to talk Savarese out of sending Brewster Payne a couple-he said 'several bottles,' so maybe six, maybe a dozen-$500 bottles of French booze was not evident in his voice. There would be no telling how Payne would react. Payne regarded Vincenzo Savarese-loving grandfather or not-as a murdering gangster, and he didn't want-worse, almost certainly would not accept-a present from him. Payne was entirely capable of sending the booze back, which would insult Savarese, and there's no telling what trouble that would cause.
'I would be grateful, Mr. Giacomo, if Mr. Payne could somehow be made aware that I consider myself deeply in his debt.'
'I don't think that's necessary, Mr. Savarese. As I said before, Mr. Payne believes, in his mind, that he only did what a decent man was obligated to do.'
'When the opportunity presents itself, Mr. Giacomo, as I'm sure it soon will, I would consider it a personal favor for you to tell Mr. Payne that I consider myself deeply in his debt. Would you do that for me, Mr. Giacomo?'
'Of course.'
You need anybody shot, Brewster? Somebody stiffing you on a fee, needs to have his legs broken? Just say the word. Vincenzo Savarese told me to tell you he owes you a big one.
'Thank you. And there is one other thing about which I would be grateful for your advice, Mr. Giacomo.'
'I'm at your service.'
