'Well, there goes our bank robbery solution rate,' A-SAC Williamson said.
'I wasn't trying to be funny, Glenn,' Davis said.
'Chief, neither was I,' Williamson said. 'I'm very much afraid you're absolutely right.'
'I hope not,' Davis said.
It was evident to the others that Davis did not violently object to being told he was absolutely right.
'This isn't exactly on the same subject-' Young said.
'But?' Davis prodded.
'I told you the reason I was late was because I was talking with Jack Matthews. He heard something last night that might, just might, affect one of our ongoing investigations.'
'Which one?'
'Bob Holland.'
'Oh, Jesus, that's all we need! We're getting pretty close to the end of that, aren't we?'
'At the cost of I don't like to think how much money and man-hours,' A-SAC Williamson said, 'I have been assured that we are beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel.'
'Well, spit it out, Frank, what did young Matthews hear?'
'Nothing specific. But what he did hear made him think he should bring me in on it. He went drinking with young Payne, his bodyguard, and another young cop-'
'What the hell isthat all about?' Williamson interrupted.
'He went out drinking with the cops? I've been telling my people to maintain a polite, cordial, but distant-'
'I sent him,' Davis said, annoyance in his voice. 'Okay, Glenn? Go on, Frank.'
'Well, toward the end of the evening, when Matthews mentioned that he was working on interstate auto theft, he said the ears of both Payne and one of the cops-McSomething- perked up, and they started asking all sorts of questions about how the Bureau runs a car theft investigation. From the nature of their questions, Jack thought that they could be talking about Bob Holland's operation.'
'What kind of questions?' A-SAC Towne asked.
'Why don't we go to the source?' SAC Davis said. He picked up his telephone. 'Carolyn, would you please ask Special Agent Matthews to come in here?'
'Who's that?' Officer Robert Hartzog said into the microphone of the new intercom on the wall of Matt Payne's kitchen.
'Inspector Wohl.'
'Be right there, Inspector,' Hartzog said. He then went down the stairs two at a time.
Wohl appeared a moment later at the head of the stairs, carrying Hartzog's shotgun.
'I told him to take a couple of laps around Rittenhouse Square,' Wohl said, resting the shotgun against the closet door. 'And how areyou this morning, Casanova?'
'I heard about what happened,' Matt said. 'I'm sorry.'
'For me or Monahan?'
'Both.'
'I'm sorry for Malone and Monahan, and for me. I'm even sorry for you. Everybody's sorry for someone else.'
'Why are you sorry for me?' Matt asked.
'I would desperately like to have a cold beer,' Wohl said, as if he hadn't heard the question. 'For purely medicinal purposes.'
'Help yourself,' Matt said, gesturing toward the kitchen. 'Bring me one too, please.'
'You want a glass?' Wohl called the kitchen.
'Absolutely. A good beer, like a decent wine, needs to breathe.'
'Oh, God!'
'It's true,' Matt said.
Wohl came into the living room with two bottles of Tuborg, glasses sitting upside down on their necks.
'And there is a way to get the beer from the bottle to the glass,' Matt said, demonstrating. 'One pours the glass approximately half full by decanting against the side of the glass, and then, at the precise moment, allowing the incoming liquid to fall into the middle, thus providing the proper head.'
He looked at Wohl, smiling. Wohl did not return the smile.
'You're going to be investigated by the FBI, for the Justice Department, for violating the civil rights of Charles David Stevens.'
'I know. The FBI told me last night.'
'They were here already?' Wohl asked, surprised.
'They sent a young FBI agent, Jack Matthews, to tell me. On the QT.'
'How nice of the FBI,' Wohl said. 'I wonder why they are being so friendly?'
'I've been wondering the same thing myself.'
'I wouldn't worry about this, Matt.'
'You know the joke?'
'What joke?'
'The doctor about to perform major surgery looks down at the patient and says,Iwouldn't worry about this,' and the patient looks up and says,'if I wasn't lying here, I wouldn't be worried either.''
'Well, I mean it. It's a defense tactic, a sleazy one, but that's all it is.'
'I was worried about it,' Matt said. 'But I just got off the telephone with Colonel Mawson. He said he's going to sue the-what is it?-Coalition for Something?'
'Equitable Law Enforcement.'
'He's going to sue them for ninety-nine million dollars, the minute the FBI actually shows up here. I think he's delighted it happened.'
Wohl smiled.
'I had a few too many drinks last night.'
'The Tuborg will fix that,' Matt said.
'I shouldn't have made that early morning call.'
'Why don't we both forget it? I just hope, among other things, that the knowledge won't make it awkward for you with Stillwell. How the hell did you find out, anyhow?'
'Why should it be awkward for me?
'In Harrisburg, I mean.'
'I'm not going to Harrisburg.'
'That's not what it said on the radio. The radio said you had been appointed chief investigator to Stillworth, who was just appointed to some bullshit position with the attorney general.'
'The radio is wrong. Never believe what you hear on the radio. For that matter, never believe what you read in the newspaper, especially theLedger.
'Really?'
'Dave Pekach proposed to Martha Peebles. Surprising no one at all, she accepted. She had a few of his friends, Mike Sabara and his wife, Jack Malone, and me, plus Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth Stillwell in for a little intimate supper.'
'And that's where you found out? Matt asked. 'Christ, how?
'Yourparamour -is that the word?'
'For the sake of discussion only, it will do.'
'Yourparamour, as I said, was there. She sounded very much like a lady who left erotic messages on your answering machine. Being the clever fellow I am, I put two and two together. And being the horse's ass I seem to be when I'm drinking, I-I called you.'
'Christ, does anybody else know?'
'I don't think so. But that wasn't the smartest thing you ever did, Matt.'
