'The others? The all-night terrorizing of the colored community by white cops? Was that your idea?'
'Not my idea, no.' He smiled at the parakeet. Waggled a finger at it. Then he lumbered back to his desk and sat again. 'I had an emergency call, at home, from the captain at the Third Precinct.'
'Wanting to roust the populace. That is, the colored populace.'
Matowitz lifted and lowered his shoulders, matter of factly. 'Yes. Those searches were made with my full consent and knowledge.' The chief's eyes narrowed and he raised his voice to its booming commencement-speech timbre, wagging a finger at Ness now, rather than at the bird: 'No law-abiding citizen need fear a search by the police.'
'Oh, horseshit, George.'
Matowitz flinched at that; Ness swore so infrequently that when he did, it got a reaction. Which was when and why he did it.
Matowitz shook his head side to side. 'I was backing up a homicide investigation…'
'Did you receive a request from Sergeant Merlo, asking that those raids be made?'
'Well, uh-no. I did not.'
'It's Sergeant Merlo's case, Chief. You don't back up a homicide investigation without checking with the detective in charge, first. Not on my police force you don't.'
Matowitz swallowed at the reminder that the force was not the chief's, but the safety director's.
The big man sighed, as if he bore the weight of the world, and not just two hundred and twenty-seven pounds. 'What do you want me to do?'
'I want you to issue a departmental directive that only officers directly assigned to the Willis investigation are to conduct raids and searches relating to that investigation.'
Matowitz shook his head again. 'Frankly, that seems foolish to me. The officers of the Third Precinct have a right to do something about their brother officer's death, and a responsibility to keep their eyes open on their beat, which happens to be the east side.'
Now it was Ness's turn to waggle a finger. 'Keep their eyes open, yes. Nothing else. This morning, I had a blistering phone call from Councilman Raney. He was outraged about these police riots, and he wants them ended now. And Reverend Hollis of the Future Outlook League, an influential race leader as I'm sure you know, was waiting on my doorstep when I got to the office this morning. He expressed his out-rage, in no uncertain terms. And, last but not least, I had a friendly little call from his honor the mayor, who is anxious to maintain his own uneasy coalition with these and other race leaders. They backed him in the state election, last November, you may recall, and he wants to keep them on his side in the coming city elections.'
A faint, bitter smile settled on Matowitz's lumpy face. 'I didn't know you catered to politicians and lobbyists.'
Ness was cold as he answered: 'I cater to citizens, and I cater to the best interests of the city of Cleveland. I have an important alliance with both Raney and Hollis, an uneasy alliance, but an important one, without which my numbers-racket investigation would collapse like the self-control of the Third Precinct's finest last night.'
Ness stood. He gave Matowitz a cold hard look. 'Don't screw it up for me, George. Put the word out, officially and unofficially. Anybody who makes a mess in the Negro district is going to find his head on my plate. Like they say on Murray Hill- capeesh?'
Matowitz nodded. 'Understood,' he said.
Ness breathed air out heavily. 'Good. Thank you, Chief.'
Ness turned toward the door, moving past the bird cage with its well-fed parakeet; but Matowitz spoke again.
'Eliot-why this partiality to the coloreds? I know this numbers investigation is important… but a cop was killed, a white cop. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'
Ness turned and looked at Matowitz, noting the man's genuine confusion, and said, not unkindly, 'If I'm partial to them, it's a selfish interest. I need their help and I need their trust to make my Grand Jury case float. But they're citizens, too, George.'
'I didn't say they weren't, but…'
'No buts. I come from immigrant stock, and so do you-hell, you are an immigrant. If a Slovak like you can't put yourself in their place, who can?'
Matowitz grimaced with momentary embarrassment. He nodded and looked rather blankly into space and said, hollowly, 'You're right. I've always prided myself on impartially serving this town's polyglot population.'
Ness recognized the phrase from speeches Matowitz had made.
The chief continued: 'I've tried to make a sincere effort to see that… that everybody in this town is equal under the law.'
'I know you have, George. A cop killing brings out the worst in cops. But we have to rise above it.'
Ness walked over and offered his hand to Matowitz, who stood and shook it. The two men exchanged chagrined smiles, and the chief said, 'I'll get that directive out right away.'
'Good.'
Ness was smiling when he exited the chief's office, which seemed to startle the blue-haired receptionist even more than his angry entrance; the secretaries behind the counter were buzzing amongst themselves as he went out.
In the tunnel-like corridor he was heading for the Payne Avenue exit when he heard a familiar voice call, 'Hey! I been looking for you!'
He turned and smiled easily as Sam Wild, trenchcoat flying, came running up, feet echoing off the slate floor. The reporter's felt hat was in his hand. He fell in stride with Ness as they walked toward the exit.
'What flavor's Matowitz today?' Wild said, with a grin.
'What do you mean?'
'You been chewin' his ass out, haven't you?'
Ness laughed shortly. 'Any answer to that question would definitely be not for publication.'
'Don't bother answering. You got a car? I don't.'
'Ride along, then. Why were you looking for me?'
'I got an appointment with a possible news source. I think you oughta meet him.'
They stepped outside into the cold, blowing afternoon. A light snowfall was dusting the world.
'Why is that?' Ness asked, as they walked to the parking lot adjacent the four-story gray sandstone fortress that was the Central Police Station.
' 'Cause I don't think you've got a line yet, on why that cop was killed last night.'
Ness said nothing. They walked up the cement ramp to the parking lot. The snow made the cement slick and they slid a bit.
Wild said, 'Has that guy Johnson given any reason why he thinks Willis was shot?'
'No,' Ness admitted.
'What about Sergeant Moeller?'
'No.'
'Well, hell, they oughta know the straight dope on Willis. That colored cop works the same precinct, and Moeller works vice, which means he oughta know the Negro district like the back of his hand.'
Ness thought for a moment before answering. 'Still off the record?'
'Yeah, yeah. God help me you should actually give me any information.'
'Moeller said that he heard Willis was dirty.'
'Oh. Any details? Any mention of Lombardi and Scalise?'
They had stopped beside Ness's black sedan. 'No. Just rumors. Let me ask you something. Why wasn't that police riot in the paper this morning, under a big Sam Wild byline? Why didn't anybody cover it? No radio or anything.'
Wild smirked. 'I'm sure the Call and Post will play it up big, but they're a weekly.' He lit up a Lucky, cupping his hands against the snow-speckled wind. 'Hell, Eliot-no paper'll touch colored news in this town. Nobody cares.'
Ness felt a chill, and it had nothing to do with the weather. 'What the hell are you covering this case for, then?'
The reporter blew out some smoke; where the smoke stopped and his breath began was a mystery. 'The
