There he goes again. "Detective D'Amata," said with respect, instead of just D'Amata, or for that matter "Joe." Joe D'Amata would not be at all annoyed to be called by his first name by Matt. So far as D'Amata' s concerned, Matt stopped being a rookie when he shot the serial rapist.
"Meaning what?"
"He said the doers really shot the place up. He said they found twenty-six bullets."
"There was a gun battle?"
"No. That's what he said was interesting. They just shot off their guns. Not even the victim had a gun."
"There was just the one victim?"
"He was the maintenance man; he walked in on it."
"They have a lead on the doers?"
"I think Detective D'Amata has a good idea. He said that the witnesses were still pretty shaky; he wanted them to calm down a little before he showed them pictures."
"That may work, and it may not," Washington said. "A lot of people, with good reason, are nervous about having to go to court and point their fingers. Particularly at scumbags like these, a gang of them."
"Yes, sir," Matt said.
Washington met his eyes.
"I am not going to tell you anymore not to call me 'sir,'" he said.
"Sorry," Matt said, throwing up his hands. "It just slips out."
"Let me show you what the postman brought today," Washington said. He went to the table by the door and returned with a postcard and handed it to Matt.
It was a printed form, Number 73-41, (Revised 3/72) issued by the Personnel Department of the City of Philadelphia, headed FINAL RESULTS OF EXAMINATIONS. It informed Jason Washington that his Final Average on the Examination for Police Sergeant was 96.52 and that his Rank on List was 3.
"Jesus!" Payne exclaimed happily.
"You asked what the occasion was," Washington said.
"Well, congratulations!" Matt said enthusiastically. "I didn't even know you had taken the examination."
"I'd almost forgotten I had," Washington said.
Matt looked at him with curiosity in his eyes, but did not ask.
"Two days after Wohl shanghaied me to Special Operations," Washington explained, "I put my name in. I almost didn't take it. I never cracked a book."
"But you came in third," Matt said.
"As I said, Officer Payne, you may now call me 'sir.'"
"Well, I think this is splendid!"
Spoken like a true Main Line WASP. "Splendid."
"Splendid?" Washington asked dryly.
"I think so."
"Thank you, Matt," Washington said.
"So what happens to you now? Will they transfer you?"
"I devoutly hope so," Washington said. "Back to Homicide."
"I'd hate to see you go."
Now that I think about it, I'm not so sure I want to go back to Homicide. Not as a sergeant.
"I don't think Peter Wohl will let me go anywhere until we catch the cop killer," Washington said.
"Is that the way that works? It's up to the inspector?"
"No. The way it works is that assignments of newly promoted people are made by Personnel. They evaluate the individual in terms of vacancies, his future career, and the good of the Department. After a good deal of thought and paper-pushing, they reach a decision, and the promotee-is that right, 'promotee'?"
"Why not?" Matt chuckled.
"-thepromotee gets his new assignment. Providing of course, that certain members of the hierarchy, Denny Coughlin, for example, and Matt Lowenstein, people like that, and, of course, our own beloved commander, P. Wohl, agree. If they don't like the promotee's assignment, they somehow manage to get it changed to one they do like. The operative words are 'for the good of the Department.'"
"I think I understand," Matt said.
There was the sound of a key in the door. Jason Washington started toward it, but it opened before he could reach it.
It was a very tall, sharply featured woman, her hair drawn tight against an angular skull.
She looks, Matt thought, like one of the Egyptian bas-reliefs in the museum.
Martha (Mrs. Jason) Washington, wearing a flowing pale green dress, stepped into the apartment. Behind her was the doorman, carrying a very large framed picture, wrapped in kraft paper.
"Take that from him, please," she ordered.
Washington put his hand in his pocket, gave the doorman a couple of dollar bills, and relieved him of the picture.
"Hello, Matt," Martha Washington said.
"Good evening," Matt said.
"What's this?" Jason asked.
"I thought you could tell from the shape," she said. "It's a bathtub."
Jason Washington tore the kraft paper away. It was a turn-of-thecentury oil painting of a voluptuous nude, reclining on her side.
"Finally, some art I can understand and appreciate," Washington said.
"Inspector Wohl's got one almost just like that," Matt said.
"That figures," Martha said. "That's to sell, Jason, not for you to ogle; don't get attached to it. I found it in one of those terribly chic places off South Street. I think he needed the money to pay the rent. I bought it right, and I think I know just where to get rid of it."
"Well,I like it," Matt said. "How much do you want for it?"
"You're too young," she said. "And besides, it would enrage your liberated female girlfriends."
"Yeah," Matt said, considering that. The prospect seemed to please him.
She seemed to see his whiskey glass for the first time.
"Are we celebrating something?" she asked.
"Yes, indeed," Matt said.
"Good evening, Matthew," Jason Washington said. "Nice of you to drop by."
"Just what's going on here?"
"Good night, Mrs. Washington," Matt said.
"Jason?" Mrs. Washington asked. There was a hint of threat in her voice.
"I took the sergeant's exam," Jason said.
"Well, it's about damned time," she said. "And you think you passed? Is that what you're celebrating?"
"Not exactly," Matt heard Jason Washington say as he pulled the door closed after him.
EIGHT
Chief Inspector Matt Lowenstein lived in a row house on Tyson Avenue, just off Roosevelt Boulevard in Northeast Philadelphia, with his wife, Sarah, and their only child, Samuel Lowenstein, who was fifteen.
It was the only home they had ever had. The down payment had been a wedding gift from Sarah's parents. The Lowensteins had been married three weeks after Matt, with three years on the job, had been promoted to detective. His first assignment as a detective had been to Northeast Detectives, not far away at Harbison and Levick Streets.
Sarah, at the time of her marriage, had been employed as a librarian at the Fox Chase Branch of the Philadelphia Public Library. Shortly afterward, she had become librarian at Northeast High School, at Cottman and Algon, and had held that job, with the exception of the three years she had taken off to have their son, ever since.
Sarah was active in women's affairs of Temple Sholom, a reformed congregation at Large Street and Roosevelt Boulevard, but had long since given up hope of getting Matt to take a more active role in the affairs of the synagogue.
While what Matt said-that he did not have an eight-to-five, five-daya-week job, but was on call twenty-four hours a day seven days a week, and thus could really not get involved like somebody who had a regular job-was true, Sarah suspected that if he did have a regular job, he would have found another excuse not to get involved.
There was absolutely no pressure from Rabbi Stephen Kuntz, who had replaced the retiring Rabbi Schneider just before Samuel was born, for Matt to take a greater role in the affairs of the congregation, which, in the beginning, had surprised Sarah, for Matt and the new young rabbi had quickly become close. And then she came to understand thatwas the reason.