"A brilliant gumshoe like you? I just can't believe that, Peter."
"I'm not much good at games, either, Farnsworth."
"Okay. The facts and nothing but the facts, right, Sergeant Friday? I am going to be the deputy attorney general for corporate crime."
"Well, in that case, congratulations," Peter said, and put out his hand.
"And you are going to be the new chief investigator for the deputy attorney general for corporate crime," Stillwell went on.
"I am?"
"Starting at a salary that's ten, maybe twelve thousand more than you're making now."
He means this! He's absolutely goddamn serious! And he's looking at me as if he expects me to get down on one knee and kiss his ring.
"Farnsworth, why would you want me to work for you?"
"Very simple answer. I don't know the first goddamn thing about corporate crime. And you do. There doesn't seem to be much question that you are the best white-collar crime investigator in Philadelphia. Your record proves that. If you can do that in Philadelphia, you certainly can do it elsewhere in Pennsylvania. I want the best, and you're it."
There is a certain element of truth in that, he understands, with overwhelming immodesty.
"When did all this come up?"
"Yesterday and today. What absolutely perfect timing, wouldn't you say?"
"Perfect timing for what?"
"This Islamic Liberation Army thing is just about to blow up in our faces."
"Is it? I'm a little dense. The doers are in jail. We have a witness. And you're going to prosecute."
"I would hate to think you were being sarcastic, Peter."
"Like I said, sometimes I'm dense. You tell me. Why is it going to blow up in our faces?
"Armando C. Giacomo, for one thing. More important, whatever shadowy faces in the background have come up with the money to engage Mr. Giacomo's professional services."
"I don't think you're saying that anytime a sleaze-ball, or a group of sleaze-balls, comes up with the money to hire Giacomo, the DA's office should roll over and apologize for having them arrested in the first place."
He saw in Stillwell's eyes that he was becoming annoyed, at what he perceived to be his naivete.
Fuck you, Farnsworth!
"I heard-I have some contacts in the FBI, the Justice Department-that the Coalition for Equitable Law Enforcement has filed a petition demanding an investigation of Officer Payne, alleging that he violated the civil rights of Charles David Stevens."
"The what?"
"The Coalition for Equitable Law Enforcement. It's one of those lunatic bleeding heart groups. One of the more articulate ones, unfortunately."
"That shooting was not only justifiable use of force, it was selfdefense."
"The allegation will be investigated. It will get in the papers. Arthur Nelson-in both theLedger and over WGHA-TV-will be overjoyed with the opportunity to paint Officer Payne as a trigger-happy killer murdering the innocent. He will gleefully point out that Mr. Stevens's unfortunate demise was the second notch on Payne's gun."
"The bottom line will be-if it gets as far as a Grand Jury-"
"It will," Stillwell interrupted.
"-that the shooting was justified."
"I am surprised that I have to remind you, of all people, Peter, that all it will take isone juror-during the ILA trial I mean-to come to the conclusion that since the police were so willing to murder in cold blood one of the alleged robbers, they are entirely capable of coming up with manufactured evidence and a perjuring witness, that they have not, in the immortal words of Perry Mason, proved their case beyond a reasonable doubt."
Wohl took a long pull on his drink, but didn't reply.
"I would rate the chances of a conviction in the ILA case as no better than fifty percent," Stillworth said. "And that is if we can get Monahan into court. I don't like those odds, Peter. I don't want to be thought of as the assistant district attorney who was unable to get a conviction of the niggers who robbed Goldblatt's and killed the watchman or whatever he was."
"You want to be governor, right?"
"Is there something wrong with that? Wouldn't you like to be police commissioner?" Wohl met his eyes. "The police commissioner is an appointive post. I don't think it's impossible, some years down the pike, that the mayor of Philadelphia would want to appoint to that position someone who both had earned a reputation state-wide as a highly successful investigator of corporate crime, and who also had been a respected police officer in Philadelphia for many years."
The odds are that no matter what you say now, you will later regret it.
"Such a hypothetical person might even have a high recommendation from a hypothetical governor, right?"
Stillwell laughed.
"Farnsworth, frankly, you've taken me be surprise."
"I've noticed."
"I'll need some time to think this over."
"There isn't much time, Peter. I've scheduled a press conference for ten tomorrow morning, at which I will announce my acceptance of the governor's appointment. I'd like to be able to say, at that time, who my chief investigator will be."
"Let me sleep on this," Wohl said. "I'll get back to you first thing in the morning."
"Deal," Stillwell said, offering his hand. "I admire, within reason of course, people who look before they leap. Now let us go back in there and share the joy of Romeo and Juliet."
Officer Charles McFadden, who, on his fifth cup of black coffee, was watching an Edward G. Robinson/Jimmy Cagney gangster movie on theLate, Late Show, was startled when the telephone rang. It was, according to the clock on the mantelpiece, a few minutes before three A.M.
He got quickly out of the chair and went to the telephone.
"Hello?"
"Who is this?"
"Who's this?"
"This is Inspector Wohl. Who's that, McFadden?"
"Yes, sir."
"Everything under control, McFadden?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is Officer Payne there?"
"Yes, sir."
"Put him on, please."
"He's asleep, Inspector."
"Then I suppose it will be necessary to wake him up, won't it?"
"Yes, sir. Sir, is anything wrong?"
"No. Not at all. The world, Officer McFadden, is getting, day by day, in every way, better and better. You might keep that in mind."
"Yes, sir. Hold on, Inspector. I'll go wake Payne up."
Officer McFadden had some difficulty in waking Officer Payne. Officer Payne had consumed pitchers of FOP beer like a sponge earlier on. He now smelled like a brewery.
"Jesus Christ, Matt, wake up! Wohl's on the phone!"
Officer Payne managed to get into a semireclining position in his bed.
"What the hell is going on?" he demanded. He looked up at the time projected on the ceiling by the clock Amy had given him. "It's three o'clock in the morning, for Christ's sake!" he protested.
"Wohl's on the phone."
"What the hell does he want?"
"I don't know. He sounds crocked."
"Jesus!"
Officer Payne, with some difficulty, finally managed to make it from a semireclining to a fully sitting-up position. Officer McFadden then removed the handset of the newly installed telephone and handed it to him.
"Yes, sir?" Matt said.
"Sorry to trouble you at this late hour, Officer Payne," Inspector Wohl said, his syllables sufficiently slurred to remind Officer Payne that Officer McFadden had said, "He sounds crocked."
"No problem, sir."
"But I have to have an answer to a certain question that has come up."
"Yes, sir."
"Allegations have reached me, Officer Payne, that you have had, on one or more occasions, carnal knowledge of a female to whom you are not joined in lawful marriage."
What the hell is this all about?