He turned the engine off, and slumped back against the seat waiting for Payne to show up.
When ten minutes passed and he had not, Jesus Martinez got out of his car and walked up to Payne's. Payne knew he was coming. Maybe he had left a note for him on the dashboard or something, saying where he was.
When he saw Matt on the seat, the first thing that occurred to him was that violence had occurred, that maybe he'd run into Walton Williams or something. He was just about to jerk the door open when Matt snored.
The cocksucker's asleep! The cocksucker is really asleep!
This was followed by a wave of righteous indignation approaching blind fury.
The sonofabitch is sleeping when I've been out busting my ass all night looking for the asshole burglar! Before I have to baby-sit this fucking place!
Officer Matthew Payne was a hair's breadth away from being jerked out of the car by his feet when Martinez had one more reaction that infuriated him even more than finding Payne asleep.
The sonofabitch has been getting away with it! While I have been out busting my ass in every tinkerbell saloon in Philadelphia, he has been sleeping and nobody caught him! Highway cars have been going past here every half hour, and nobody caught him-or gave a damn if they did-and every fucking supervisor around, District, Highway, Northwest Detectives, maybe even Wohl and Sabara and that new Sergeant, have ridden by here and nobody noticed!
Officer Martinez stood by the side of Matt's car for a moment, his arms folded angrily across his chest, as he considered the various options open to him to fix the rich-boy rookie's ass once and for all for this. When the solution came to him, it was simplicity itself.
Now smiling, he took his penknife from his pocket, tested the sharpness of the blade with his thumb, and then knelt by the left front wheel. He sliced into the rubber tire valve where it passed through the tire. There was a piercing whistle of escaping air, which Martinez quickly muffled with his fist.
On the right front and rear wheels, he used his handkerchief to muffle the whistle of air escaping from sliced air valves.
Then he got back in his car and drove off, wearing a smile of satisfaction. The smile grew broader as he thought of the finishing touch. He reached for his microphone.
"W-William Two Eleven, W-William Two Twelve," he said.
"Go," Charley McFadden's voice came back immediately.
"I'm at Broad and Olney, working on something," Martinez said. "I ain't gonna be able to relieve our friend on time. What should I do?"
"I'll go relieve him," Charley replied immediately. "You want to come when you get loose, or do you want me to take the tour?"
"I'll relieve you at three, if that's all right," Martinez said.
"Yeah, fine," McFadden said.
That means I've got to hang around until three, Jesus Martinez thought. But what the fuck. It's worth it!
And then he thought that the sonofabitch would probably still be asleep when Charley rode up.
Good, let Charley see for himself what a useless prick Rich-boy is.
TWENTY
Officer Charles McFadden attempted to contact Officer Matthew Payne by radio as he drove to Chestnut Hill. There was no reply, which Charley thought was probably because Payne was walking around, the way he told him to, to keep awake.
But he sensed that something was wrong when he pulled up behind Matt' s car and didn't see him. He had had plenty of time to stretch his legs from the time he had called; he should have been back by now. McFadden got cautiously out of his car and walked warily to Matt's.
Then he sensed something was wrong with the car and looked at it and found the four flat tires. McFadden squatted and took his revolver from his ankle holster, then approached the car door, and saw Matt sprawled on the seat.
"Matt!" he called, and then, louder, "Payne!"
Matt sat up, sleepily.
"You dumb fuck!" Charley McFadden exploded. "What in the goddamned hell is wrong with you? If one of the supervisors caught you, you'd be up on charges."
"I guess I fell asleep," Matt said, pushing himself outside the car, and then raising his arms over his head.
"What happened to your tires?" McFadden asked.
"My tires? What about my tires?"
"They're flat," McFadden said. And then he felt rage rise up in him.
That fucking Hay-zus did this! That's what that bullshit was about him working on something at Broad and Olney! He drove up here, and let the air out of Payne's tires!
"They're?" Matt asked. "Plural? As in more than one?"
He knelt beside Charley as Charley, pulling on a valve stem, discovered that someone had slit it with a knife.
Someone, shit! Hay-zus!
"All four of them, asshole!" Charley said. "Somebody caught you sleeping and slit your valve stems open. And I've got a good fucking idea who."
"It doesn't matter, Charley."
"The fuck itdon't!" McFadden said. "You call for a police wrecker, how you going to explain this? Vandals? You were supposed to be sitting in the car, or close enough so that you could hear the radio. The guys on the wrecker are going to know what happened, stupid. It'll be all over Highway and Special Operations, the District,'you hear about the asshole was sleeping on a stakeout? Somebody cut his tire valves. ' "
Matt was touched by Charley's concern. This did not seem to be the appropriate time to tell him that he was going to resign in the morning. It occurred to him that he liked Charley McFadden very much, and wondered if some sort of friendship would be possible after he had resigned.
"Well, now that I've made a jackass of myself, what can be done about it?"
"I'm thinking," Charley said. "There's a Sunoco station at Summit Avenue and Germantown Pike I think is open all night. I think they fix tires."
"Why don't we just call the police wrecker and let me take my lumps?" Matt asked.
"Don't be more of an asshole than you already are," Charley said. " We'll jack your car up, take off two tires at a time, put them in my car, and you get them fixed. Then the other two."
I have an AAA card, Matt thought, but this doesn't seem to be an appropriate time to use it.
"Come on," Charley said. "Get off the dime! I don't want to have to explain this to a supervisor."
A supervisor did in fact appear thirty minutes later, by which time Matt had returned from the service station with two repaired tires, and departed with the last two.
"What's going on here?" Captain David Pekach asked. "You need some help?"
"No, sir, another officer's helping me," Charley said. "Payne."
"What the hell happened?"
"There was some roofing nails here, Captain. Got two tires."
"You should have called the police wrecker," David Pekach said. " That's what they're for."
"This looked like the easiest way to handle it, sir," Charley said.
"Well, if you say so," David Pekach said. "Good night-or is it good morning?-Charley."
"Good night, sir."
"Charley, I'll have a word with Inspector Wohl tomorrow, and see if he won't reconsider this bullshit stakeout."
"I wish you would, sir."
"Good night, again, Charley," Captain Pekach said. He was in a very good mood. He was going to check in at Bustleton and Bowler, then go home and change his clothes, and then come back. Martha had said she completely understood that a man like himself had to devote a good deal of time to his duty, and that she would make them breakfast when he came back. Maybe something they could eat in bed, like strawberries in real whipped cream. Unless he wanted something more substantial.
Jesus!
Matt Payne walked into Bustleton and Bowler thirty minutes later and handed the keys to the car to the same Corporal who had given him hell for being late before he'd gone on the stakeout.