Wohl had said, "Not yet. Maybe later," Explaining that he didn't have any idea what the mayor, or for that matter, Commissioner Thad Czernick, had in mind for Special Operations.
"If the mayor has another of his inspirations for Special Operations, or if Czernick has one, I want you and Tony already here," Wohl had said. "I don't want to have to go through another hassle with Chief Lowenstein over transferring you back again."
Chief Inspector Matt Lowenstein headed the Detective Bureau, which included all the detective divisions, as well as Homicide, Intelligence, Major Crimes, and Juvenile Aid. He was an influential man with a reputation for jealously guarding his preserve.
"What are we going to do, Inspector," Washington had argued, " recover stolen vehicles?"
Wohl had laughed. Department policy required that a detective be assigned to examine any vehicle that had been stolen and then recovered. There were generally two types of recovered stolen vehicles: They were recovered intact, after having been taken for a joyride; or they were recovered as an empty shell, from which all resalable parts had been removed. In either case there was almost never anything that would connect the recovered vehicle with the thief. Investigating recovered vehicles was an exercise in futility and thus ordinarily assigned to the newest, or dumbest, detective in a squad.
"For the time being, I'll talk with Quaire, and see if he'd like you to work on some of the jobs you left behind at Homicide. But I have a gut feeling, Jason, that there will be enough jobs for you here to keep you from getting bored."
And Wohl had been right about that too. Police Commissioner Czernick (Washington had heard even before leaving Atlantic City for Philadelphia where the decision had come from) had decided to give Special Operations the two murder jobs.
And there was no wheel in Special Operations. In Homicide, as in the seven detective divisions, detectives were assigned jobs on a rotational basis as they came in. It was actually a sheet of paper, on which the names of the detectives were listed, but it was called the wheel.
If the mayor hadn't given Wohl the two murders and they had gone instead to Homicide, it was possible, even likely, that the wheel would have seen the jobs given to somebody else. He and Harris, because of the kind of jobs they were, would probably have been called in to "assist," but the jobs probably would have gone to other Homicide detectives. In Special Operations it was a foregone conclusion that these two murder jobs would be assigned to Detectives Washington and Harris.
And they were good jobs. Solving the murder of an on-the-job police officer gave the detective, or detectives, who did so greater satisfaction than any other. And right behind that was being able to get a murder-one indictment against one mafioso for blowing away another.
Jason Washington was beginning to think that his transfer to Special Operations might turn out to be less of a disaster than it had first appeared to be.
He was not surprised when he pulled into the parking lot at Bustleton and Bowler Streets to see Peter Wohl's nearly identical Ford in the COMMANDING OFFICER'S reserved parking space, although it was only a quarter to eight.
When he walked into the building, the administrative corporal called to him, "The inspector said he wanted to see you the minute you came in."
He smiled and waved and went to Wohl's office.
"Good morning, Inspector," Washington said.
"Morning, Jason," Wohl replied. "Sorry to have to call you back here."
"How am I going to get a tan if you keep me from laying on the beach?" Washington said dryly.
"Get one of those reflector things," Wohl replied, straight-faced, "and sit in the parking lot during your lunch hour. Now that you mention it, you do look a little pale."
Jason Washington's skin was jet black.
They smiled at each other for a moment, and then Wohl said, " Harris was at Colombia Street-"
"I talked to Tony this morning," Washington said, interrupting him.
"Okay," Wohl said. "Did I mention last night that a Narcotics sergeant named Dolan thought Matt Payne was involved at the parking garage?"
"Tony told me," Washington said.
Then that, Wohl thought a little angrily, must be all over the Department.
"Well, I don't think he's dirty, but he did find the girl, and DeZego's body. If you want to talk to him, he should be here any minute."
"He called the hospital while I was there," Washington said. "I told him I'd see him here."
"You were at the hospital?" Wohl asked.
Washington nodded.
"I don't know why I got out of bed so early to talk to you," Wohl said.
"Early to bed, early to rise, et cetera, et cetera," Washington said. "You going to need Payne this morning, Inspector?"
"Not if you want him for anything. If I have to say this, Jason, just tell me what you think you need."
"I thought I'd take him to Hahneman and then to the parking garage," Washington said. "I didn't get in to see the girl. That needed permission of a doctor who won't be in until eight."
Wohl's eyebrows rose questioningly.
"They're giving me the runaround," Washington went on. "I didn't push it. Incidentally, they've got a couple of Wackenhut Security guys down there guarding her room. One of them is a retired sergeant from Northwest detectives."
"I'm not surprised. The victim, according to the paper-have you seen the papers?"
Washington nodded.
"Is the Nesfoods Heiress," Wohl concluded.
"Which is something I should keep in mind, right?" Washington laughed.
"Right," Wohl said. "There's coffee, Jason, while you're waiting for Payne."
"Thank you," Washington said, and went to the coffee-brewing machine.
Wohl picked up one of the telephones on his desk.
"When Officer Payne comes in, don't let him get away," he said, and then, "Okay. Tell him to wait." He turned to Washington. " Payne's outside."
"I think he might get some answers I couldn't," Washington said. " Is that all right with you?"
There was a just perceptible hesitation before Wohl replied, "Like I said, whatever you want, Jason."
"You know what I'm asking," Washington said.
"Yeah. I think we have to give him the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. I think he knows he's a cop."
"Yeah, so do I. And I really think he might be useful. I don't have a hell of a lot of experience with Nesfoods Heiresses."
"Don't let them worry you," Wohl said. "Dave Pekach seems to do very well with heiresses."
"How about that?" Washington laughed. "Is that as serious as I hear?"
"Take a look at his watch," Wohl said. "He had a birthday."
"What's he got?"
"A gold Omega with about nine dials," Wohl said. "It does everything but chime. Maybe it does that too."
"Well, good for him," Washington said. He put down his coffee cup and stood up and shot his cuffs.
"I'll keep you up-to-date," he said. "Thanks for the coffee."
"Let me know if I can help," Wohl said.
"I will. Count on it," Washington said.
He walked out of Peter Wohl's office. Matt Payne was leaning over the desk of Wohl's administrative sergeant.
"Still have your driver's license, Matthew?" Washington said.
"Yes, sir."
"The next time you say 'Yes, sir' to me, I will spill something greasy on that very nice sport coat," Washington said. "Come on, hotshot, take me for a drive." He saw the look on Matt's face and added, "I fixed it with the boss."
"Frankly," H. Russell Dotson, M.D., a short, plump man in a faintly striped dark blue suit that Jason Washington thought was very nice, indeed, said, "I'm very reluctant to permit you to see Miss Detweiler-"
"I understand your concern, Doctor," Washington said. "May I say two things?"
Dotson nodded impatiently.