The fact that this is on my personal line, he thought as he sat down on his bed and reached for the telephone, does not mean that I am not about to hear something I do not wish to hear, such as Mother reminding me that I have not been to Sunday dinner in a month, so how about tomorrow?
"Hello?"
"From that tone of voice," his caller said, "what I think I should do is just hang up, but I hate it when people do that to me."
"Hello, Matt," Wohl said, smiling. "What's up?"
"I was wondering how welcome I would be if I drove over there."
Not at all welcome, with Martinez here. And from the tone of your voice, Detective Payne, I think the smartest thing I could do is tell you, "Sorry, I was just walking out the door. "
"You would be very welcome. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of calling you. I am about to polish the Jaguar and I hate to do that alone. A weak mind and a strong back is just what I need."
"I'll be there in half an hour. Thank you," Detective Payne said, and hung up.
It is possible, Wohl thought, that Matt is coming over here simply as a friend. The reason he sounds so insecure is that he's not sure of the tribal rites. Can a lowly detective and an exalted staff inspector be friends? The answer is sure, but he doesn't know that. And the truth of the matter is, I was glad to hear his voice and I miss him around the office.
But clever detective that I am, I don't think that a social visit is all he has in mind. His tone of voice and the "thank you" is not consistent with that.
Is he in trouble? Nothing serious, or I would have heard about it. And if he was in a jam, wouldn't he go first to Denny Coughlin?
There is a distinct possibility, now that I think about it, that Detective Payne has, now that he's been leading the exciting, romantic life of a real-life detective in the famous East Detective Division for two months, decided that law enforcement is not how he really wants to spend the rest of his life. Unless things have changed a hell of a lot, he has spent his time on recovered stolen vehicles, with maybe a few good burglary of autos thrown in for good measure.
If he did decide to quit, he would feel some sort of an obligation to tell me. That would be consistent with his polite asking if he could come over, and then saying "thank you."
So what will I do? Tell him to hang in there, things will get better? Or jump on the wise elders bandwagon with his father and Denny Coughlin, and tell him to go to law school?
The telephone rang again.
"A Highway car ran the light at Broad and Olney, broadsided a station wagon full of nuns, and knocked it into a bus carrying the Philadelphia Rabbinical Council," his caller announced without any opening salutation.
Wohl chuckled. "Good morning, Captain Pekach," he said. "You better be kidding."
"Am I interrupting anything, boss?"
"No. What's up, Dave?"
"It's a beautiful day. Martha's got some shrimp and steaks and we' re going to barbecue lunch. Mike and his wife are coming, and I thought maybe you'd be free?"
Is he inviting me because he likes me, or because I am the boss? Why the hell are you so cynical? Dave is a good guy, and you like Martha. And they are friends. He is not sucking up to the boss.
Your cynicism just might have something to do with last night. When are you going to learn, Peter Wohl, that blond hair and splendid boobs do not a nice lady make?
"I've got somebody coming over, Dave."
"Bring her, the more the merrier."
"It's a him. Specifically, Matt Payne."
"I thought maybe he'd be in touch…"
What the hell does that mean?
"…so bring him too. Martha likes him, and we've got plenty."
"I don't know what his plans are, but I'll be there. Thank you, Dave. When?"
"Noon. Anytime around there."
"Can I bring anything?"
"Nothing but an appetite."
Wohl walked back to his living room, where Martinez was reading the BNDD Investigator's Manual.
"That was Matt Payne," Wohl said. "The first call."
"How's he doing?"
"I understand he's become the East Detectives' specialist on recovered stolen cars," Wohl said, and then added: "He's coming over here."
Martinez closed the BNDD notebook and stood up.
"Then I better get going, huh?"
"I don't think it would be a good idea if he saw you here."
Martinez held up the notebook.
"How soon do you want this back?"
"Whenever you're finished with it. Take your time."
Martinez nodded.
"You're doing a good job, Hay-zus," Wohl said. "I think it's just a question of hanging in there with your eyes open."
"Yes, sir."
"Anytime you want to talk, Hay-zus, about anything at all, you have my personal number."
"Yes, sir."
Martinez stood up, looked at Wohl for a moment, long enough for Wohl to suspect that he was about to say something else, but then, as if he had changed his mind, nodded at Wohl.
"Good morning, sir."
Wohl walked to the door with him and touched his shoulder in a gesture of friendliness as Martinez opened it and stepped outside.
Wohl had just about finished carefully washing his Jaguar when Detective Payne drove onto the cobblestone driveway in his silver Porsche. It showed signs of just having gone through a car wash. The way Payne was dressed, Wohl thought, he looked like he was about to pose for an advertisement inEsquire -for either Porsche automobiles, twenty-five-year-old Ambassador Scotch, or Hart, Schaffner amp; Marx clothing.
Payne handed Wohl a paper bag.
"Present," he said.
"What is it?"
"The latest miracle automobile polish. It's supposed to go on and off with no perceptible effort, and last for a thousand years."
I am not going to ask him what's on his mind. In his own time, he will tell me.
"And you believe this?"
"Also in the tooth fairy. But hope springs eternal. I didn't think you would be willing to try it on the Jag, but I thought we could run a comparison test. I'll do mine with this stuff, and you do the Jag with your old-fashioned junk…"
"Which comes all the way from England and costs me five ninetyfive a can…"
"…and we'll see which lasts longer. You'll notice mine is also freshly washed."
"In a car wash," Wohl said. "I'm surprised you do that. Those brushes are supposed to be hell on a finish. They grind somebody else' s dirt into your paint."
He's looking at me as if I just told him I don't know how to read.
"You don't believe that?" Wohl asked.
"You know the car wash on Germantown Avenue, right off Easton Road?"
Wohl nodded.
"For four ninety-five, they'll wash your car by hand."
"I didn't know that," Wohl confessed.
"They don't do a bad job, either," Matt said, gesturing toward the Porsche.
Wisdom from the mouth of babes, Wohl thought. One is supposed to never be too old to learn.
"So I see," Wohl said.
Payne took off his linen jacket, and then rolled up the sleeves of his light blue button-down collar shirt. Then he extended his can of car polish toward Wohl.
"You want to do a fender, or the hood, with this? Then you could really tell."
"Thebonnet," Wohl said. "On a Jaguar the hood is thebonnet. And thank you, no."
Matt opened the hood of his rear-engined Porsche, which was of course the trunk, and took out a package of cheese cloth.
Why don't I spend the two bucks? Instead of using old T-shirts? Except when I can't find an old T-shirt and have to use a towel that costs more than two bucks?
"So how is life treating you, Matt?" Wohl asked.
"I thought you would never ask," Matt said. "The good news is that I won six thousand bucks, actually sixty-seven hundred, in Las Vegas, and the bad news is that the IRS gets their share."