Mrs. Magnella had entered the room. She looked like she was headed right for him.
She was. Her son and husband were on her heels, looking worried.
"I know who you are," Mrs. Magnella said to Charley McFadden. "I seen your picture in the papers. You're the cop who caught the junkie and pushed him under the subway, right?"
That wasn't what happened. I was chasing the son of a bitch and he fell!
"Uh!" Charley said.
"I want you to find the people who did this to my Joseph and push them under the subway!"
"Mama," Officer Magnella's brother said. "Come on, Mama!"
"I want them dead! I want them dead!"
"Come on, Mama! Pop, where's Father Loretto?"
"I'm here," a silver-haired priest said. "Elena, what's the matter?"
"I want them dead! I want them dead!"
"It's going to be all right, Elena," the priest said. "Come with me, we'll talk."
"I'm sorry about this," Officer Magnella's brother said to Officer McFadden as the priest led Officer Magnella's mother away.
"It's all right, don't worry about it," Charley said.
Margaret McCarthy looked at Charley McFadden and saw that it wasn' t all right. Without thinking what she was doing, she put her hand out to his face, and when he looked at her, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
EIGHTEEN
Officer Matthew Payne was feeling a little sorry for himself. He had been given an impossible task-how the hell was he supposed to find one man in a city the size of Philadelphia?- and Peter Wohl had made it plain that he expected him to accomplish it: No excuses, please. Just do it.
When he had tried looking for Jason Washington in all the places he could think, starting with his home, and then going to the Roundhouse and over to the parking garage and even to Hahneman Hospital, he went back to the Roundhouse, on the admittedly somewhat flimsy reasoning that Washington had told him to meet him in Homicide in the Roundhouse before he left word on the answering machine not to meet him there.
Washington was not in Homicide and had not been there.
It occurred to Matt that very possibly Washington had finished doing whatever he was doing and had gone, as he said he would, out to Bustleton and Bowler. If Washingtonwas at Bustleton and Bowler, where he said he would be, and Officer Payne was downtown at the Roundhouse looking for him, Officer Payne was going to look like a goddamn fool.
Which, in the final analysis, was probably a just evaluation.
He called Bustleton and Bowler. "Special Operations, Sergeant Anderson."
"This is Payne, Sergeant. Is Detective Washington around there someplace?"
"No. He called in and wanted to talk to you. He said he told you to wait for him here."
"Did he say where he was?"
"No. He just said if I saw you, I was to sit on you."
"Okay."
"Wait a minute. He said that he would be at City Hall."
"Thank you very much," Matt said.
He hung up, rode the elevator down from Homicide, and ran out of the building into the parking lot, where a white-capped Traffic officer was in the process of putting an illegal-parking citation under the Porsche's windshield wiper.
"Could I change your mind about doing that if I told you I was on the job?" Matt asked.
The Traffic cop, who was old enough to be Matt's father, looked at him dubiously.
"You're a 369?"
Matt nodded.
"Where?"
"Special Operations," Matt said.
The Traffic cop, shaking his head, removed the citation.
"What did you guys do?" he asked, nodding at the Porsche. " Confiscate that from a drug dealer?"
This is not the time to tell Daddy that I chopped down the cherry tree.
"Yeah," Matt said. "Nice, huh?"
The Traffic cop shook his head resignedly and walked off without another word.
Matt drove to City Hall and parked the Porsche in an area reserved
FOR POLICE VEHICLES ONLY.
I would not be at all surprised, the way things are going today, that when I come out of here, to find a cop, maybe that same cop, putting another ticket on me here.
He went inside the building and trotted up the stairs to the second floor. Thirty seconds after that he spotted Detective Jason Washington walking toward him. From the look on Washington's face, Matt could tell he was not overcome with joy to see him.
"What are you doing here?" Washington asked in greeting.
"Inspector Wohl sent me to find you," Matt said. "He wants to see you right away."
"Keep looking," Washington said. "You didn't find me yet."
"Okay," Matt said, with only a moment's hesitation. "I didn't."
"In ten minutes, give or take, you will find me in the groundfloor stairwell, on the southeast corner of the building."
"Yes, sir," Matt said.
"It's important, Matt," Washington said. "Trust me."
"Certainly."
Wait a minute! If my intention is to put Dolan off-balance, the kid can help. Dolan doesn't like him.
"I don't have time to explain this, even if I were sure I could," Washington said. "But I just changed my mind. I want you to come with me. I'm looking for your friend, Sergeant Dolan."
Matt's face registered surprise.
"I don't want you to open your mouth, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"You any kind of an actor?"
"I don't know."
"Let us suppose that I have caught your friend Dolan doing something he shouldn't have," Washington said, "and I told you. Do you think you could work up a smug, self-satisfied look? So that Dolan would think you know he's in trouble and are very pleased about it?"
"If that son of a bitch is in trouble, I wouldn't have to do very much acting," Matt said.
"Just keep your mouth shut," Washington said. "I mean that. If I blow this, we could both be in trouble."
"Okay," Matt said.
"And there, obviously at the intervention of a benign deity," Washington said softly, "is the son of a bitch."
Matt looked over his shoulder. Sergeant Dolan was coming down the crowded corridor. At the moment Matt looked, Dolan spotted them. He did not look very happy about it.
"Sergeant Dolan," Washington called out, "may I see you a moment, please?"
He walked over to him with Matt at his heels.
"What's on your mind, Washington?" Sergeant Dolan asked.
Washington turned to Matt and handed him two of the three large manila envelopes.
"Give one to Chief Lowenstein and the other one to Chief Coughlin," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"But I'd suggest you stick around, Matt, until we have Sergeant Dolan's explanation."
"Yes, sir."
"You know Officer Payne, don't you, Sergeant? He's Inspector Wohl' s special assistant."
"Yeah, I know him. Whaddaya say, Payne?"
Matt nodded at Sergeant Dolan.
"Sorry to bother you again, Sergeant," Washington said. "But I've come up with some more photographs. I'd like to show them to you."
He handed Dolan the third envelope. Dolan opened it. His face showed that what he considered the worst possible scenario had begun to play.
"So?" he said with transparent belligerence.
"I was hoping you could tell me who those two gentlemen are," Washington said.
"Haven't the faintest fucking idea. They was just on the street."
"I was wondering why those photographs weren't included in your report, or in the photographs you showed me."
"They wasn't important."
"You wouldn't want to even guess who those two gentlemen are?"
"No, I wouldn't," Dolan said.
"Let's stop the crap, Dolan," Washington said. "This has gone too far."
"Fuck you, Washington," Dolan said, his bravado transparent.
"Payne, get on the phone and tell Inspector Wohl that Sergeant Dolan is being uncooperative," Washington said. "And ask him to please let me know whether he wants to take it from here or whether I should take this directly to Chief Lowenstein. I'll wait here with Sergeant Dolan."