'And if he doesn't?'
'Thanks again for lunch, Peter,' Coughlin said and walked out of the Grill Room.
Susan led Matt three blocks from the First Harrisburg Bank amp; Trust to a Pennsylvania Dutch restaurant.
The place was spotless, and the waitress, a tall blonde about as old as Susan looked, Matt thought, like a visual definition of innocent and wholesome. She wore a starched white lace hat on top of her blond hair, which was parted in the middle and done up in a bun at her neck. Her white cotton blouse-buttoned to the neck-was covered with an open black sweater. Her black skirt was more than halfway down her calves, and her starched white apron matched the cap. No makeup, of course.
She smiled gently, and apparently sincerely, at Susan and Matt.
I wonder what she would do if she knew she was about to serve two felons?
'Are you going to have lunch with us?' she asked. There was a Germanic accent to her speech.
'That depends on what you have,' Matt said.
She looked at him curiously.
'Please,' Susan said and kicked him under the table.
When the waitress left, Matt asked, 'Did I say something wrong?'
'She's Amish, I think,' Susan said. 'But whatever, she's what they call plain people, and she would not understand your smart-ass wit.'
'How am I going to order lunch if I don't know what's on the menu?'
Susan inclined her head toward the waitress, who was pushing a large-wheeled cart toward their table.
'What a big-city sophisticate like you would probably call prix fixe,' Susan said. 'As much as you want, all one price. But don't be a pig; take only what you intend to eat. It hurts them when you don't eat everything on your plate. They think you didn't like it.'
'Yes, Mother,' Matt said.
There was an enormous display of food in bowls and on platters arranged on the cart.
Matt took roast pork, beef pot roast, potatoes au gratin, lima beans, apple sauce, beets, succotash, two rolls, butter, what looked to him like some kind of apple pie, iced tea, and coffee.
The wholesome waitress smiled at him approvingly, then served Susan approximately one-third as much food.
'Did you hear what I said about eating everything?' Susan said when the waitress had rolled the cart away.
'I intend to,' Matt said.
She shook her head in disbelief.
'Do you know what happened when you put that briefcase under your desk?'
'No,' Matt said, curious and therefore serious, 'what? I think it's safe there, if that's what you mean.'
'That's not what I mean,' she said. 'You had a choice to make, and you made one. Have you thought about that?'
'I didn't have any choice,' he said. 'You know that.'
'Could you put yourself in Jennifer's shoes? Did she have any choice?'
'Oranges and lemons, Susan,' Matt said. 'And how did Jennifer manage to intrude herself on what I thought until sixty seconds ago was going to be a nice lunch?'
'She called this morning. Just before I went to the bank.'
'And?'
'I told her I was busy and that she would have to call back.'
'How much of the conversation did your pal from the FBI hear? Or record?'
'All of it. But there's nothing-'
'It was one more call in a series of recent calls. They'll think that something is about to happen. If I were in charge, I would tighten surveillance. We don't need that.'
'What do I tell her? She'll keep calling until I talk to her.'
'Tell her to call you tomorrow,' Matt said.
'And what do I tell her tomorrow?'
'Between now and then, we'll think of something.'
'What are you going to do with the mon-the briefcase? '
'Take it to my room.'
'And then?'
'I don't know. I've been kicking the idea around that maybe we can-somehow, but don't ask me how-use your returning the loot to our advantage. It would at least show a change of heart. I don't know how much good that would do.'
She looked at him but said nothing.
'Eat your succotash, like a good girl,' Matt said. 'Another option, of course, is to get rid of it. Then-'
'You mean destroy it?'
Matt nodded, and went on: 'Then it would be your word against Chenowith that you ever had it.'
'His and Jennifer's,' Susan said. 'She'll go along with whatever he says.'
'Against her faithful friend?' Matt asked sarcastically.
'Yes.'
'Then why do you give a damn about her?'
'I do, Matt. I can't help that.'
Matt raised a forkful of pot roast toward his mouth, then lowered it.
'You don't know that,' he said.
'I don't know what?'
'From everything you've told me, Jennifer is a really weak sister.'
'I told you about her, why she's that way,' Susan said.
'So she goes along with Chenowith because he's strong, right? Or at least she sees him that way.'
Susan nodded.
'What are you driving at?'
'Don't take this as anything but me thinking out loud,' he said. 'Tell me about the drunken mother. Is she going to spring for a lawyer-a good lawyer-when they arrest Jennifer?'
'I don't know. Probably. But if she doesn't, I will. Do you know one?'
'I know two of the best, but I don't think they'd take her case.'
'I thought they were supposed to represent people no matter what they did.'
'Let's skip that for the moment,' Matt said. 'For the sake of argument, Jennifer has a good lawyer. By definition, a lawyer argues. A good lawyer offers strong arguments. '
'I don't understand you.'
'Little lady, you have a choice. You either stick with your murdering boyfriend, in which case they will take your baby away from you, and you will never see it again, or you go tell the FBI everything you know, and after you do that, you go into that courtroom and convince people you stayed with him out of fear for your life, and that of the baby.'
'I don't know, Matt,' Susan said.
'We're back to have you got any better ideas?'
'Let me think about it,' Susan said.
'Throw this in the equation,' Matt said. 'Don't do it. Just think about it. You tell her you'll meet her but you want to meet her alone. Set up the meet. I'm there. I arrest her. Then we tell the FBI where to find Chenowith. You tell Jennifer not to say one goddamn word until she has a lawyer. Then the lawyer delivers his little speech to her.'
'I'll think about it. Matt, it doesn't sound credible.'
'I'm still thinking out loud. If she had the money-all the money, what you have and what you think she's going to give you-'
'They wouldn't believe that.'
'It doesn't matter what they believe, or, for that matter, what they know. They have to convince the jury, and
