'Just fine,' Matt said. 'Mother, you didn't have to come back. I'm getting out of here tomorrow.'
She held up her arm, around which was folded a hang-up bag.
'In your underwear?'
'It's the cocktail hour, I see,' Brewster C. Payne said.
'Dad, do you know Mickey O'Hara?'
'Only by reputation. How are you, Mr. O'Hara?'
'Are you allowed to have that?' Patricia Payne asked.
'Probably not, but I can't see where it will do any harm,' Brewster Payne said. He smiled at Eleanor. 'I'm Brewster Payne, and this is my wife.'
'I'm Eleanor Neal.'
'How do you do?' Patricia Payne said.
'Can I offer you a little taste, Mr. Payne?' Mickey asked.
'Is there a glass?'
'How do you know they aren't giving you some medicine that will react with that?' Patricia Payne asked.
'All I'm taking is aspirin,' Matt replied.
Mickey made drinks for the Paynes.
Patricia Payne nodded her thanks, sipped hers, and said, 'I have this terrible premonition that some two- hundred-pound nurse is going to storm in here, find the party in progress, yell for the guards, and I will win the Terrible Mother of the Year award.'
'I thought bringing Matt a little taste was the least I could do for what he did, saving my life, for me.'
Thank you, Mickey O'Hara.
'It was very kind of you, Mr. O'Hara,' Brewster Payne said.
And thank you, Dad, for cutting off the colorful story of my courage in the face of death.
'Call me Mickey, please.'
'Mickey.'
'Mickey, we should be going,' Eleanor said. 'We've been here long enough.'
'You're right,' Mickey said. He tossed his drink down, shook hands all around, and opened the door for Eleanor.
'Interesting man,' Brewster Payne said as the door closed after them.
'He's supposed to be the best police reporter on the Eastern Seaboard.'
'He has a Pulitzer, I believe,' Brewster Payne said, and then changed the subject. 'Denny Coughlin tells me you insist on going to your apartment when they turn you loose?'
'Yes, sir.'
'How much do you know of what else has happened?'
'I know about the threats, and the firebomb. Is there something else?'
'No. I just didn't know how much you knew. Just before we came here, Dick Detweiler phoned. They wanted to come see you-he called earlier, as soon as he heard what had happened-but I told him you were getting out in the morning.'
'Thank you.'
'He also volunteered to send out to Wallingford as many of the Nesfoods plant security people as would be necessary for as long as would be necessary. The point of this is that if the reason you don't want to come home is because of your concern for your mother and me, that won't be a problem. Dick would really like to help.'
'I'm a cop,' Matt said. 'I'm not about to let these scumbags run me out of town.'
'I told you that's what he would say,' Patricia Payne said.
'And I'll have people with me,' Matt said.
'That was explained to us in great detail by Denny Coughlin. Having said that, I think Denny would be more comfortable if you were in Wallingford.'
'I'm going to the apartment, Dad,' Matt said.
'The police are taking these threats seriously, honey,' Patricia Payne said. 'Getting in to see you is like trying to walk into the White House.'
'I suspect Uncle Denny had a lot to do with whatever security there is here,' Matt said. 'In his godfather, as opposed to chief inspector of police, role.'
'I think that probably has a lot to do with it,' Brewster Payne agreed, smiling. 'Okay. You change your mind-I suspect you'll get claustrophobia in your apartment-and we'll get you out to the house.'
The door opened again, and a nurse came in. She was well under two hundred pounds, but she was every bit as formidable and outraged as the two-hundred-pounder Patricia Payne had imagined.
'Liquor is absolutely forbidden,' she announced. 'I should think you would have known that.'
'I tried to tell my wife that,' Brewster C. Payne said, straightfaced, 'but she wouldn't listen to me.'
Matt laughed heartily, and even more heartily when he saw the look on his mother's face. Each time his stomach contracted in laughter his leg hurt.
Jason Washington was waiting for Peter Wohl when he walked into the building at Bustleton and Bowler at five minutes to eight the next morning.
'Morning, Jason.'
'Can I have a minute, Inspector?'
'Sure. Come on in the office. With a little bit of luck, there will be hot coffee.'
'How about here? This will only take a yes or a no.'
'Okay. What's on your mind?'
'Captain Sabara told me he wants Tiny Lewis-you know who I mean?'
'Sure.'
'-on the security detail for Matt Payne. I'd rather he got somebody else.'
'You have something for Lewis to do?'
Washington nodded.
'You got him. You discuss this with Sabara?'
'No.'
'I'm sure he would have let you have Lewis.'
'He would have asked why.'
'You're losing me.'
'I didn't know if he knew Tony Harris has been at the bottle.'
'What's that got to do with Lewis?'
'Harris is sober. If we can keep him that way for the next seventytwo hours, I think we can keep him that way more or less indefinitely. Lewis will be with Harris all day, with orders to call me if Tony even looks at a liquor store.'
'And at night?'
'Martha likes him. We have room at the apartment. He can stay with us for a while.'
'Martha is a saint,' Wohl said.
'No,' Washington said, 'it's just-'
'Yeah,'Wohl interrupted coldly. 'Only a saint or a fool can stand a dedicated drunk, and Martha's not a fool.'
'He's a good cop, Inspector.'
'That's what I've been thinking, with one part of my mind, for the last three or four days. Theother part of my mind keeps repeating, ' He's a drunk, he's a drunk, he's a drunk.' '
'I think it's under control,' Washington said.
'It better be, Jason.'
'Thanks, Inspector,' Washington said.
'You got something going now? I'd like you to sit in on what Malone has set up for Matt and Monahan. They're supposed to be waiting for me in my office.'
