"Settle down, Dick," Payne said. "You came to the right place."
He walked to his door.
"Irene, would you ask Colonel Mawson to drop whatever he's doing and come in here, please?"
"Mawson?" Detweiler said. "I never have liked that son of a bitch. I never understood why you two are partners."
"Dunlop Mawson is reputed to be-in my judgmentis – the best criminal lawyer in Philadelphia. But if you think he's a son of a bitch, Dick-"
"For God's sake," Grace said sharply, "let's hear what he has to say."
Colonel J. Dunlop Mawson (the title making reference to his service as a lieutenant colonel, Judge Advocate Generals' Corps, U.S. Army Reserve, during the Korean War) appeared in Brewster C. Payne's office a minute later.
"I believe you know the Detweilers, don't you, Dunlop?" Payne asked.
"Yes, of course," Mawson said. "I've heard, of course, about your daughter. May I say how sorry I am and ask how she is?"
"Penny is addicted to cocaine," Grace Detweiler said. "How does that strike you?"
"I'm very sorry to hear that," Colonel Mawson said.
"There is a place in Hartford," Grace said, "that's supposed to be the best in the country. The Institute for Living, something like that-"
"Instituteof Living," Payne said. "I know of it. It has a fine reputation."
"Anyway, she's going there," Grace Detweiler said.
"I had a hell of a time getting her in," H. Richard Detweiler said.
" 'I'?" Grace Detweiler snapped, icily sarcastic.
"Really?" Payne asked quickly. He had seen Grace Detweiler in moods like this before.
"There's a waiting list, can you believe that? They told Dotson on the phone that it would be at least three weeks, possibly longer, before they'd take her."
"Well, that's unfortunate, but-" Colonel Mawson said.
"Wegot her in," Detweiler said."We had to call Arthur Nelson-"
"Arthur Nelson?" Payne interrupted. "Why him?"
Arthur J. Nelson, Chairman of the Board of Daye-Nelson Publications, one of which was thePhiladelphia Ledger, was not among Brewster C. Payne's favorite people.
"Well, he had his wife in there, you know," Grace Detweiler answered for her husband. "She had a breakdown, you know, when that sordid business about her son came out. Arthur put her in there."
"Yes, now that you mention it, I remember that," Payne said. "Was he helpful?"
"Very helpful," H. Richard Detweiler said.
"Dick, you're such an ass," Grace said. "He was not!"
"He said he would do everything he could to minimize unfortunate publicity," H. Richard Detweiler said. "And he gave us Charley Gilmer' s name."
"Charley Gilmer?" Payne asked.
"President of Connecticut General Commercial Assurance. He's on the board of directors, trustees, whatever, of that place."
"Whose name, if you were thinking clearly," Grace Detweiler said, "you should have thought of yourself. We've known the Gilmers for years."
H. Richard Detweiler ignored his wife's comment.
"It was not very pleasant," H. Richard Detweiler said, "having to call a man I have known for years to tell him that my daughter has a drug problem and I need his help to get her into a mental institution."
"Is that all you're worried about, your precious reputation?" Grace Detweiler snarled. "Dick, you make me sick!"
"I don't give a good goddamn about my reputation-or yours, either, for that matter. I'm concerned for our daughter, goddamn you!"
"If you were really concerned, you'd leave the booze alone!"
"Both of you, shut up!" Brewster C. Payne said sharply. Neither was used to being talked to in those words or that manner and looked at him with genuine surprise.
"Penny is the problem here. Let's deal with that," Payne said. " Unless you came here for an arena, instead of for my advice."
"I'm upset," H. Richard Detweiler said.
"And I'm not?" Grace snapped.
"Grace, shut up," Payne said. "Both of you, shut up."
They both glowered at him for a moment, the silence broken when Grace Detweiler walked to the bar and poured an inch and a half of Scotch in the bottom of a glass.
She turned from the bar, leaned against the bookcase, took a swallow of the whiskey, and looked at both of the men.
"Okay, let's deal with the problem," she said.
"We're sending Penny up there tomorrow, Colonel Mawson," Detweiler said, "to the Institute of Living, in an ambulance. It's a six-week program, beginning with detoxification and then followed by counseling."
"They know how to deal with the problem," Mawson replied. "It's an illness. It can be cured."
"That'snot the goddamn problem!" Grace flared. "We're talking about Penny and thegoddamn gangsters!"
"Excuse me?" Colonel H. Dunlop Mawson asked.
"Let me fill you in, Dunlop," Payne said, and explained the statement Matt had taken and Penny's determination to testify against the man whom she had seen shoot Anthony J. DeZego.
Colonel Mawson immediately put many of the Detweilers' concerns to rest. He told them that no assistant district attorney more than six weeks out of law school would go into court with a witness who had a " medical history of chemical abuse."
The statement taken by Matt Payne, in any event, he said, was of virtually no validity, taken as it was from a witness he knew was not in full possession of her mental faculties, and not even taking into consideration that he had completely ignored all the legal t's that had to be crossed, and i's dotted, in connection with taking a statement.
"And I think, Mr. Detweiler," Colonel Mawson concluded, "that there is even a very good chance that we can get the statement your daughter signed back from the police. If we can, then it will be as if she'd never signed it, as if it had never existed."
"How are you going to get it back?"
"Commissioner Czernick is a reasonable man," Colonel Mawson said. "He's a friend of mine. And by a fortunate happenstance, at the moment he owes me one."
"He owes you one what?" Grace Detweiler demanded.
Brewster C. Payne was glad she had asked the question. He didn't like what Mawson had just said, and would have asked precisely the same question himself.
"A favor," Mawson said, a trifle smugly. "A scratch of my back in return, so to speak."
"What kind of a scratch, Dunlop?" Payne asked, a hint of ice in his voice.
"Just minutes before I came in here," Mawson said, "I was speaking with Commissioner Czernick on the telephone. I was speaking on behalf of one of our clients, a public-spirited citizeness who wishes to remain anonymous."
"The point?" Payne said, and now there was ice in his voice.
"The lady feels the entire thread of our society is threatened by the unsolved murder of Officer Whatsisname, the young Italian cop who was shot out by Temple. So she is providing, through me, anonymously, a reward of ten thousand dollars for information leading to the arrest and successful prosecution of the perpetrators. Commissioner Czernick seemed overwhelmed by her public-spirited generosity. I really think I'm in a position to ask him for a little favor in return."
"Well, that's splendid," H. Richard Detweiler said. "That would take an enormous burden from my shoulders."
"What do we do about the newspapers?" Grace Detweiler asked. "Have you any influence with them, Colonel?"
"Very little, I'm afraid."
"Arthur Nelson will do what he can, I'm sure, and that should take care of that," H. Richard Detweiler said.
"I don't trust Arthur J. Nelson," Grace said.