the office, Payne; tell them where we are. And you better ask if anything's new about the abduction.'
It was, he thought, as he fished the thick Philadelphia telephone book from under the pay phone in the foyer of the Melrose Diner, the first time he had ever called the Police Department.
And the phone book was not much help.
The major listing underPOLICE was thePOLICE ATHLETIC LEAGUE. A dozen addresses and numbers were furnished, none of which had anything to do with what he wanted.
UnderPOLICE DEPARTMENT were listings to
Neither of which were what he was looking for.
A little farther down the listing was
Matt tried theOTHER POLICE HELP number first.
'Police Emergency,' a male voice responded on the fifth ring. 'May I help you?'
'Sorry,' Matt said, 'wrong number,' and hung up. He chuckled and said, 'Shit,' and put his finger back on the listing. ByADMIN OFCS 7 amp; RACE they obviously meant the Roundhouse. But the number listed was the same as the one listed for thePOLICEACADEMY, which was to hell and gone the other side of town.
He put another dime in the slot and dialed 686-1776.
'City of Philadelphia,' a bored female replied on the ninth ring.
'May I speak to the Special Operations Division of the Police Department, please.'
'What?'
'Special Operations, please, in the Police Department.'
'One moment, please,' the woman replied, and Matt exhaled in relief.
But there was no ringing sound, and after a long pause, the woman came back on the line. 'I have no such listing, sir,' she said, and the line went dead.
He fumbled through his change for another dime and couldn't find one. But he had a quarter and dropped it in the slot and dialed 686-1776 again.
'City of Philadelphia,' another bored female answered on the eleventh ring.
'Highway Patrol Headquarters, please,' Matt said.
'Is this an emergency, sir?'
'No, it's not.'
'One moment, please.'
Now the phone returned a busy signal.
'That number is busy,' the operator said. 'Would you care to hold?'
'Please.'
'What?'
'I'll hold.'
'Thank you, sir,' she said, and the line went dead.
He dropped his last quarter in the slot, dialed 686-1776 again, and asked a third woman with a bored voice for Highway Patrol.
'Special Operations, Sergeant Frizell.'
'This is Officer Payne, Sergeant,' Matt said. That was, he thought, the first time he had ever referred to himself as 'Officer Payne.' It had, he thought, a rather nice ring to it.
'You a volunteer, Payne?'
'Excuse me?'
'I said, are you a volunteer?'
'No, I'm not,' Matt said.
'Well, what can I do for you?'
'Inspector Wohl told me to check in,' Matt said. 'We're at the Melrose Diner.'
'Oh, you're his driver. Sorry, I didn't catch the name.'
'The number here is 670-5656,' Matt said.
'Got it. He say when he's coming in?'
'No. But he said to ask if anything has happened with the abducted woman.'
'Not a peep.'
'Thank you,' Matt said. 'Good-bye.'
'What?'
'I said good-bye.'
'Yeah,' Sergeant Frizell said, and the line went dead.
When he went into the dining room of the Melrose Diner, he looked around until he spotted them. They were in a corner banquette, and a waitress was delivering drinks.
'Anything?' Inspector Wohl asked him.
'No, sir.'
'Damn,' Wohl said. 'What are you drinking?'
Drinking on duty, Matt saw, was not the absolute no-no he had been led to believe, from watchingDragnet and the other cop shows on television. Both Wohl and Washington had small glasses dark with whiskey in front of them, obviously something-on-the-rocks, and Harris had a taller glass of clear liquid with a slice of lime on the rim, probably a vodka tonic.
'Have you any ale?' Matt asked the waitress.
She recited a litany of the available beers and ales and Matt picked one.
'You going to eat, too?' the waitress asked. 'I already got their orders.'
Matt took a menu, glanced at it quickly, and ordered a shrimp salad.
From the look-mixed curiosity and mild contempt-he got from Detective Washington, Matt surmised that both the ale and the shrimp salad had been the wrong things to order.
When the waitress left, Peter Wohl picked up his glass, and with mock solemnity said, 'I would like to take this happy occasion to welcome you aboard, men.'
'Shit,' Jason Washington said, unsmiling.
'Jason, I need you,' Wohl said, seriously.
'Oh, I know why you did it,' Washington said. 'But that doesn't mean I agree that it was necessary, or that I have to like it.'
Wohl looked as if he had started to say something and then changed his mind.
'I told Tony in the Roundhouse lobby, Jason, that if it's overtime you're worried about, you can have as much as you want.'
'I should have drowned you when you were a sergeant in Homicide,' Washington said, matter-of-factly. 'Inspector, you know what Homicide is.'
'Yeah, and I know you two guys are the best detectives in Homicide. Were the best two.'
'When he's through shoveling the horseshit, Tony,' Washington said, ' hand the shovel to me. It's already up to my waist, and I don't want to suffocate.'
Harris grunted.
'What you're doing, Inspector, is covering your ass, and using Tony and me to do it.'
'Guilty, okay?' Wohl said. 'Now can we get at it?'
