Ziploc bags on it. One of them held Matt’s Officer’s Model Colt. 45 pistol, and the other a magazine.
“Of course?” Weisbach asked.
“Yes, sir, and he gave me some lip that I was supposed to give it back to him. He didn’t give me any trouble, but he told me I was supposed to give it back to him after I counted the rounds left in the magazine.”
“At that time, Lieutenant, did you believe that Sergeant Payne (a) posed a danger to others or himself, and/or (b) that he had committed a crime of any kind?”
“No, sir. From what I saw it was a good shooting.”
“Two things, Lieutenant. There is no such thing as a good shooting. They are all lamentable. Some of them are unfortunately necessary, but there is no such thing as a ‘good’ shooting.”
“Sir, I meant-”
“Secondly, Lieutenant, you might find it valuable to refresh your memory regarding the regulations dealing with taking a weapon from an officer in a situation like this.”
“Sir?”
“The sergeant was right, Lieutenant. Absent any reason to believe that the shooting officer poses a danger to himself or others, or belief that the officer has committed a felony, the regulations state that his weapon will be returned to him by the supervisor after he counts the rounds remaining in the magazine, and takes possession of that.”
“Inspector, I thought it was evidence…”
“So you implied. The point here is that a clever lawyer, such as Mr. Giacomo, may make the point that your disarming of Sergeant Payne against regulations is proof of bias.”
“Jesus, I didn’t know.”
“Obviously. Now, was there any other indication of what you considered odd behavior in Sergeant Payne?”
“He was… sort of out of it, sir. Distant, maybe, is the word.”
The telephone on one of the desks rang, and Captain Kimberly went to answer it, and the door opened and Inspector Peter Wohl and Amelia A. Payne, M.D., came into the room.
“Hello, Mike,” Wohl said. He nodded at the others.
“Where is he?” Amy asked.
“Honey!” Wohl said, warningly.
“Peter, as I understand it, Sergeant Payne is no longer assigned to Special Operations,” Weisbach said.
“That’s right.”
“That makes me ask, you’ll understand, what you’re doing here?”
“What we’re doing here?” Amy flared. “Jesus H. Christ! I want to see my brother, is what we’re doing here.”
“And what Dr. Payne is doing here?” Weisbach continued.
“Inspector,” Captain Kimberly said. “That was Captain Hollaran on the phone. He and Commissioner Coughlin are en route here. He asked who was the supervisor. I told him you were.”
Weisbach nodded his understanding.
“Unless you can tell me you have official business here, Peter,” Weisbach said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you and the lady to leave.”
“I’m not a lady, goddamn it, I’m a physician. And I demand to see my brother.”
“Take it easy, honey,” Wohl said. “Mike’s just going by the book. He has to.”
“Screw his book. Screw him. I demand to see my brother.”
“Peter… ” Weisbach said.
“Inspector Weisbach, with your permission,” Peter said, “I’d like to stay here with the lady until the arrival of Commissioner Coughlin.”
The door opened again.
Armando C. Giacomo strode in. He was wearing a tweed jacket, gray flannel trousers, a pajama top, and bedroom slippers.
“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” he said. “Hello, Mike. Amelia. Peter. What brings you two here?”
“They won’t let me see my brother,” Amy said. “Tell them they have to.”
“Do I correctly infer that it is Sergeant Payne who was allegedly involved in this unfortunate incident?”
Weisbach nodded.
“I’m not sure if they have to give you access to your brother, Amy,” Giacomo said, “but I am absolutely sure that I have the right to see the detainee, accompanied by the physician of my choice. Isn’t that correct, Inspector Weisbach?”
“I think you can have a police physician, Counselor,” Weisbach said. “I’ll have to check about Dr. Payne.”
“You’re splitting hairs, Inspector. If the police department can seek, as they have on several occasions that come readily to both our minds, the consultation of Dr. Payne in the investigation of crimes, the only reason I can see why you refuse her, as my consultant in this matter, access to the detainee is that you are personally biased against my client, determined to deprive him of his full rights under the Constitution, or, perhaps…”
“He’s in there, Counselor,” Weisbach said, pointing to the closed door of the interview room.
Amy walked quickly to the door and pulled it open.
Sergeant Payne was sitting at a table.
Tears were running down his cheeks.
He smiled like a child when he saw Amy.
“I guess I did it again, huh, Amy?”
He suddenly slammed his left hand on top of his right and stared at it angrily. After a moment, he took the left hand away and looked at the right. The right hand rose, trembling, from the table. He slapped it down again.
“I have no idea what’s the matter with it,” he explained with a shy smile. “It just keeps doing that.”
“Jesus Christ,” Armando C. Giacomo said.
He turned to Inspector Weisbach, who looked almost as horrified and unhappy as he felt.
“Inspector, I believe that Dr. Payne is about to advise me that in her professional medical opinion, Sergeant Payne, having suffered understandable pain, fear, and anguish as the result of tonight’s events, not only is not able to intelligently respond to any questions posed by anybody, but is in urgent need of medical attention. Would you have problems with that?”
“No, sir,” Weisbach said. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No, goddamn it!” Amy called from the interview room. “He’s had enough sirens and flashing lights for tonight.”
The men looked away in embarrassment.
Doctor Payne was holding Sergeant Payne in her arms, stroking his head. He was sobbing uncontrollably.
After a moment, Peter Wohl entered the room.
“Take him,” Amy ordered.
Very gently, Wohl pulled Matt from Amy’s arms and took him into his own.
She went to Kimberly’s telephone and dialed a number from memory.
“This is Dr. Payne. I will require a private room immediately, anywhere but in psychiatric. I will be there shortly with the patient.”
She hung up, but stood there with her hand on the telephone in thought.
Captain Frank Hollaran and First Deputy Commissioner Coughlin walked into the room.
“Amy, honey!” he said when he saw her. “I’m not sure you should be here…”
“Just shut up, Uncle Denny,” she said, levelly. “Now I’m taking care of him.”
Then she raised her voice.
“Get him on his feet, Peter. We’re going to take him out of here.”
In a moment, Wohl appeared in the interview room door, his arm around Matt.
Matt smiled shyly at everybody as Wohl led him across the room and out the door, but no one spoke or moved.
