"Nothing, I suppose," Lieutenant Lewis said. "It's a little unusual, that's all. Eat your cake."
ELEVEN
The normally open gate of the Detweiler estate in Chestnut Hill, like the gate at the Browne place in Merion, was now both closed and guarded by rent-a-cops.
When Matt pulled the nose of Penelope Detweiler's Mercedes against the gate, one of them, a burly man in a blue suit, came through a small gate within the gate and looked down at Matt.
"May I help you, sir?"
"We're returning Miss Detweiler's car," Matt said.
"'We,' sir?"
"I'm a cop," Matt said, and jerked his thumb toward Jason Washington, who was following him in the unmarked Ford. "And so is he."
"You expected?"
"No."
"I'll have to call, sir."
"Tell them it's Matt Payne."
The rent-a-cop looked at him strangely and then said, "Matt Payne. Yes, sir."
He went back through the small gate, entered the gate house, and emerged a moment later to swing the left half of the double gate open. He waved Matt through.
H. Richard Detweiler, himself, answered the door. He had a drink in his hand.
"Boy, that was quick!" he said. "Come in, Matt."
"Sir?"
"I just this second got off the phone with Czernick," Detweiler said. "Penny was worried about her car, so I called him and asked about it, and he said he'd have it sent out here."
"I think we probably were on our way when you called him, Mr. Detweiler," Matt said. "Mr. Detweiler, this is Detective Washington."
"I was just talking about you too," Detweiler said, offering Washington his hand. "Thad Czernick told me you're the best detective in the Department."
"Far be it from me to question the commissioner's judgment," Washington said. "How do you do, Mr. Detweiler?"
Detweiler chuckled. "Oh, about as well as any father would be after just seeing a daughter who looks like the star of a horror movie."
"We saw Miss Detweiler earlier this morning," Washington said.
"So she said. That was kind of you, Matt. And you, too, Mr. Washington."
"I think you'll be surprised to see how quickly that discoloration goes away, Mr. Detweiler," Washington said.
"I hope," Detweiler said. "I needed a drink when I got back here. I'd offer you one, but I know-"
"That would be very nice, thank you," Washington said.
"Oh, you can take a drink on duty?" Detweiler asked. "Fine. I always feel depraved drinking alone. Let's go in the bar."
He led them to a small room off the kitchen.
"This is supposed to be the serving pantry," he said, motioning them to take stools set against a narrow counter under and above the glass-fronted cupboards. The cupboards held canned goods, and there was an array of bottles on the counter.
"I'm not exactly sure what a butler's pantry is supposed to be for," Detweiler went on, reaching for a bottle of gin. "My grandfather copied this place from a house in England, so it came with a butler's pantry. Anyway, whatwe serve here is liquor. Help yourself."
"Matt, if you would splash a little of that Johnny Walker Black in a glass, and alittle water, andone ice cube?" Washington said.
"You sound like a man who appreciates good Scotch and knows how to drink it," Detweiler said.
"I try," Washington said.
Matt made two drinks to Washington's specifications, handed him one, and raised his own.
"To Penny's recovery," he said.
"Hear, hear," Washington said.
"Penny," Detweiler said, his voice breaking."Goddamn whoever did that to her!"
"I'm sure He will," Washington said, "but we would like to get our licks in on him before he gets to the Pearly Gates."
Detweiler looked at him, smiling.
"Good thinking," he said.
The telephone on the counter buzzed; one of the four lights on it lit up. Detweiler made no move to answer it.
"Have you found out anything, Mr. Washington? What's going on?"
"Well, frankly, Mr. Detweiler, we don't have much to go on. The theory I'm working under is that Miss Detweiler was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time-"
"Is there another theory? Theories?"
"Well, I've been doing this long enough to know the hazards of reaching premature conclusions-" Washington said.
"Goddamn," Detweiler said, angrily grabbing for the phone, which had continued to buzz, "we keep six in help here, and whenever the phone rings, theyall disappear." He put the handset to his ear and snarled, "Yes?"
There was a pause.
"This is Dick Detweiler, Commissioner. I wish I could get people as efficient as yours. No sooner had I put down the phone than Matt Payne and Detective Washington drove up with my daughter's car. I'm impressed with the service."
There was an inaudible reply to this, then Detweiler said, "Thank you very much, Commissioner." He extended the phone to Washington. "He wants to talk to you."
"Yes, sir."
"Watch yourself out there, Washington. And when you leave, call me and let me know how it went."
The phone went dead in Washington's ear.
"Yes, of course, Commissioner," Washington said after a pause that sounded longer than it was. "Thank you very much, sir. Good-bye, sir."
He handed the telephone to Detweiler.
"The commissioner asked me to impress upon you, Mr. Detweiler, that the Department is doing everything humanly possible to get to the bottom of this, to find whoever did this to your daughter. He said that I was to regard this case as my first priority."
"Thank you," Detweiler said. "That's very good of him."
"We were talking, a moment ago, about other theories," Washington said. "I think one of the possibilities we should consider is robbery."
"Robbery?"
Washington nodded.
"Ranging from a simple, that is to say, unplanned, mugging, some thug lurking in the parking garage for whoever might come his way to someone who knew about the dinner party in the Union League-"
"How would someone know about that?" Detweiler said, interrupting.
"I'm sure it was in the society columns of the newspapers," Washington went on. "That might explain the shotgun."
"Excuse me?"
"Muggers are rarely armed with anything more than a knife. Aprofessional thief, for lack of a better word, who went to the Penn Services Parking Garage knowing that there would be a number of wellto-do people using it at that time, would be more likely to take a shotgun with him. Not intending to shoot anyone but for its psychological effect."
"Yes," Detweiler said.
"And his plans could have gone astray, and he found himself having to use it."
"Yes, I see," Detweiler said.
"Was your daughter wearing any valuable jewelry, Mr. Detweiler?"
"I don't think so," Detweiler said. "She doesn't have any. Some pearls. All girls have pearls. But nothing really valuable." He looked at Matt and grinned. "Matt hasn't seen fit to offer her an engagement ring yet…"
"A brooch? A pin of some sort?" Washington said, pursuing the matter.
"She has a pin, a brooch"-he gestured at his chest to show where a female would wear such an ornament-"from my wife's mother. She could have been wearing that. It has some rubies or whatever, in a band ofwhat do they call those little diamonds?-chips?"
"I believe so," Washington said.
"She could have been wearing that," Detweiler said.
"There was no such pin in her personal effects," Washington said. "Do you happen to know where she kept it?"
"In her room, I suppose," Detweiler said. "Do you think we should check to see if it's there?"
"I think we should," Washington said.
Detweiler led them up a narrow flight of stairs from the serving pantry to the second floor and then into Penelope's bedroom. There was a Moroccan leather jewelry case, sort of a miniature chest of drawers, on a vanity table. Detweiler went to it and searched through it and found nothing.