Following a review of the applicable motor vehicle codes of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania and the City and County of Philadelphia, he explained, in some detail, the intricacies of filling out the citation form.
Then he turned philosophical, trying to make them understand that because of the personnel shortage caused by the murder of Officer Magnella, they were being given a special opportunity to show their stuff. He could not remember, he told them (honestly) any other time when two untrained officers had been sent out by themselves in a Highway car. If they performed well, he told them, it certainly would reflect well on the report Sergeant DeBenedito would ultimately write on them. And he made the point that they should feel no embarrassment, or reluctance, to call for assistance or advice anytime they encountered a situation they weren't quite sure how to handle.
Officers Martinez and McFadden heard him out politely, then left the building and got in the Highway RPC.
'Do you believe that shit?' Jesus Martinez said.
'If I'd have known they were going to have us handing out speeding tickets, I'd have told them to stick their overtime up their ass,' Charley McFadden said.
TWELVE
Matt dropped change into the pay phone at the gas station where he parked his car near Special Operations, got a dial tone, and dialed a number from memory.
'Hello?'
The voice of the bridegroom-to-be did not seem to be bubbling over with joyous anticipation or anything else.
'It's not too late to change your mind,' Matt said. 'I believe that's known as leaving the bride at the altar.'
'Where the fuck have you been? Where are you?'
'I just got off work,' Matt said. 'I'm at Bustleton and Bowler.'
'I was getting worried.'
'I can't imagine why.'
'Can you get a couple of suitcases in that car of yours?'
'Sure.'
'Then come get me,' Chad Nesbitt ordered. 'You can take me by Daffy's with my bags and then to the hotel.'
'Oh, thank you! Thank you!' Matt said emotionally, but he said it to a dead telephone. Chad Nesbitt had hung up.
Second Lieutenant Chadwick T. Nesbitt IV, USMCR, was waiting under the fieldstone portico of the Nesbitt mansion in Bala-Cynwyd when Matt got there. He was in uniform, freshly shaved, and sitting astride a life-size stone lion. Two identical canvas suitcases with his name, rank, and serial number stenciled on them sat beside the lion. A transparent bag held a Marine dress uniform, and there was a box that presumably held the brimmed uniform cap, and another that obviously held Chad's Marine officer's sword.
He held a stemmed glass filled with red liquid in his hand. Another glass, topped with a paper napkin, was balanced on one of the suitcases.
'It took you long enough,' he greeted Matt when Matt got out of the car and walked up to him.
'Fuck you.'
'Well, fuck you too. Now you don't get no Bloody Mary.'
'Is that what that is?' Matt replied, picking up the glass. 'Thank you, I don't mind if I do.'
They smiled at each other.
'You must have had a good time last night,' Matt said. 'You look like the finest example of the mortician's art.'
'Speaking of that, where the hell were you?'
'Fighting crime, where do you think?'
''Fighting crime'? Is that what you call it? Daffy said you were shacked up with What's-her-name Stevens.'
'Her name is Amanda and we weren't shacked up.'
'Methinks thou dost protest too much,' Chad said. 'Madame Browne is, of course, morally outraged at you.'
'So what else is new?'
'I think I'll have another of these to give me courage to face the traffic, and then you can take us over there, and then to the hotel.'
'I thought you weren't supposed to see the bride before the wedding.'
'All I'm going to do is drop my bags off. Then we go to the hotel and get a little something to quiet my nerves.'
'You're already-or maybe still-bombed,' Matt said. 'I don't want to have to carry you into the church.'
'You have always been something of a prig, Payne. Have I ever told you that?'
'Often,' Matt said, putting the Bloody Mary down and picking up the suitcases. 'Jesus, what the hell have you got in here?'
'Just the chains and whips and handcuffs and other stuff one takes on one's bridal trip,' Chad said. 'Plus, of course, what every Marine second lieutenant takes with him when going off to battle the forces of Communism in far-off Okinawa.'
'The sword and dress blues too?'
'I'll change into the blues at the hotel, and then out of them at Daffy's after the wedding. We don't use swords no more, you know, to battle the forces of Communism.'
Matt set the suitcases on the cobblestone driveway and opened the hatch.
'Get in,' he said, then, 'What are your travel plans, by the way?'
'We're going into New York tonight and flying to the West Coast tomorrow.'
'You're not coming back here?'
'I hope to come back, of course, but if you were asking 'after the wedding and before going overseas,' no.'
He swung his leg off the stone lion, picked up Matt's Bloody Mary glass, and walked to the car.
'If you were to open the door for me, I think I could get in without spilling any of this on your pristine upholstery,' he said.
Matt closed the hatch and opened the door for him. He took his Bloody Mary from him, drained it, and set the glass on the step.
When he straightened, Mrs. Chadwick T. Nesbitt III was standing there.
'I'm not at all sure that's a very good idea, Matt,' she said, and then walked around him to the car.
'He insisted, Mother,' Chad said. 'He said he didn't think he could get through the ceremony without the assistance of a little belt.'
'Well, don't let him give you any more,' she said. 'Have you got everything?'
'Yes, Mother.'
'You're sure?'
'Yes, Mother.'
'Well, then, I guess we'll see you at St. Mark's.'
'God willing, and if the creek don't rise,' Chad said, and slammed his door shut.
Matt walked around to the driver's side of the Porsche.
'Matt…' Chad's mother said.
'Yes, ma'am.'
'Just… behave, the two of you.'
'We will,' Matt said.
