He turned left from the alley onto Sanger Street, and then left again onto Sylvester Street. He would stop and say hello to the two cops in the car.
Now there were two unmarked cars on Rosehill Street.
That's probably Sergeant Carter.
The cop with the Renfrew of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police cap got-surprisingly quickly, Wohl thought-from behind the wheel and stepped into the street, signaling him to stop.
Christ, I hope they're not stopping every car that comes down the street!
This time there was no recognition in the cop's eyes when Wohl rolled the window down and looked up at him.
"Sir," the cop said, "you're going the wrong way down a one-way street. May I see your driver's license please?"
Wohl took his leather ID folder from his pocket and passed it out the window.
"Maybe you could give me another chance, Officer," he said. "I'm usually not this stupid."
"Oh, Jesus, Inspector!"
"I honest to God didn't see the one-way sign," Wohl said. "Who's that in the back of the RPC? Sergeant Carter?"
"Lieutenant Malone, sir."
"Let me pull this over-turn it around, I guess-I'd like a word with him."
"Yes, sir."
Wohl turned the car around and parked it, and then went and got in the back of the unmarked car.
"We all feel a little foolish, Inspector," Malone said when Wohl got in the backseat of the RPC. "We should have recognized you."
Wohl saw that Malone was in civilian clothing.
"You don't feel half as foolish as I do," Wohl said. "If I had been doing ninety in a thirty-mile zone, that I would understand. But going the wrong way down a one-way street-"
"I'll let you go with a warning this time, Inspector," the cop who had stopped him said, "but the next time, right into Lewisburg!"
Everyone laughed.
"Something on your mind, Inspector?" Malone asked.
"Just wanted to check on Monahan, that's all."
"He's been home about an hour and a half," the cop who had stopped Wohl said. "I don't think he'll be going out again tonight in this weather."
"How are you working this?" Wohl asked, and touched Malone's knee to silence him when it looked like Malone was going to answer.
"Simple rotation," the second cop answered. "One of us walks for thirty minutes-when the wind's really blowing, only fifteen minutesand then one of us takes his place. We do a four-hour tour, and then go on our regular patrols."
"Your reliefs showing up all right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Does the man walking the beat have a radio?"
"We all have radios."
"Can you think of any way to improve what we're trying to do? Even a wild hair?"
"How about a heated snowmobile?"
"I'll ask Commissioner Czernick in the morning about a snowmobile. Don't hold your breath. But I meant it, anybody got any ideas about something we should, or should not, be doing?"
Both cops shook their heads.
"Well, I can see that I'm not needed here," Wohl said. "I guess everybody understands how important Monahan is as a witness?"
"Yes, sir," they said, nearly in unison.
"Can I have a word with you, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir, certainly."
Wohl shook hands with both cops and got out of the car. Malone followed him to the Jaguar.
"Yes, sir."
"You have anything else to do here?"
"No, sir."
"Any hot plans for tonight? For dinner, to start with?"
"No, sir."
"Okay, Jack. Get in your car and follow me."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere where it's warm, and where, I suspect, there will be a more than adequate supply of free antifreeze."
TWENTY-FOUR
Miss Martha Peebles had decided that it would be better to receive her and Captain Pekach's guests in the family (as opposed to the formal) dining room of her home. For one thing, it had been her father's favorite room. She had good memories of her father and his friends getting up from the dinner table and moving to the overstuffed chairs and couches at the far end of the room for cognac and cigars and coffee.
Tonight, she would more or less reverse that. She had had Evans and his nephew Nathaniel set up a little bar near the overstuffed furniture. Nathaniel would serve drinks first, before they moved to the dining table for the meal.. Then, after they had eaten, they could move back.
Besides, she reasoned, the formal dining room was just too large for the few people who would be coming. When she was a little girl, for her eleventh birthday party, it had been converted into a rollerskating rink.
But her father had preferred the family dining room, and it seemed appropriate for tonight. And she thought that her father would appreciate the arrangements she had made. She was convinced that her father would have liked David, and vice versa. They were men. And if he liked David, her father would also like David's friends, Inspector Wohl and Captain Sabara.
Daddy probably wouldn't like Farnsworth Stillwell any more than I do, she thought, but she could clearly hear his voice telling her, "Like it or not, kitten, you are who you are, and from time to time, you have to go through the motions and put up with people of your own background. "
And, besides, now that Stillwell had entered politics, he might turn out to be useful to David.
Captain and Mrs. Michael J. Sabara were the first to arrive. As Evans led them into the family dining room, Martha had the thought-which she instantly recognized as unkind and regretted-that Mrs. Sabara was a trifle overdressed. Captain Sabara was dressed almost exactly as David was, that is to say in a blazer and gray slacks, and that pleased her.
"I'm Martha Peebles," she said, offering her hand to Mrs. Sabara. "I' m so glad you could come on such short notice."
"Your home is beautiful!" Mrs. Sabara said.
"David calls it the fortress," Martha said. "But I grew up here, and I guess I'm used to it."
Sabara and Pekach shook hands, although they had seen each other only two hours before.
"Why don't you have Nathaniel make Captain and Mrs. Sabara something to chase the chill, David?"
As they approached the bar, Captain Sabara said, "I told you I didn't need a tie. Dave's not wearing one."
"When you come to a house like this," Mrs. Sabara said firmly. "You wear a necktie." Then she turned to Pekach. "She's beautiful, David."
"Yeah," Pekach said. "Look, Lois, don't say anything about us being engaged. I think she wants to make an announcement."
Lois Sabara put her index finger before her lips.
"You name it, we got it," Dave said as they reached the bar.
"What are you drinking?" Mike Sabara asked.
"Scotch. Some kind her father liked. He bought it by the truckload."
"I'll have what Captain Pekach is drinking," Sabara said. "Lois?"
"Wine, I think. Have you any red wine?"
"There's a California Cabernet Sauvignon, madam, and a very nice Moroccan burgundy that Miss Martha likes," Nathaniel said.
"I'll have the burgundy, please."
Staff Inspector Peter Word and Lieutenant John J. Malone entered the family dining room next.
"Who's he?" Lois asked softly, as they walked toward the bar.
"Jack Malone. New lieutenant," her husband told her.
"He's the one with the wife trouble, right?"
"Jesus Christ, Lois!"
"Where's the lady of the house?" Wohl asked.
"I guess she's checking on the food," Pekach said. "Thank you for coming, Inspector. And welcome, Jack."
"The inspector said it would be all right," Malone said.
"Absolutely.
"You don't know Mike's wife, do you, Jack?" Wohl said. "Lois, this is Jack Malone."