"What kind of questions?" A-SAC Towne asked.
"Why don't we go to the source?" SAC Davis said. He picked up his telephone. "Carolyn, would you please ask Special Agent Matthews to come in here?"
"Who's that?" Officer Robert Hartzog said into the microphone of the new intercom on the wall of Matt Payne's kitchen.
"Inspector Wohl."
"Be right there, Inspector," Hartzog said. He then went down the stairs two at a time.
Wohl appeared a moment later at the head of the stairs, carrying Hartzog's shotgun.
"I told him to take a couple of laps around Rittenhouse Square," Wohl said, resting the shotgun against the closet door. "And how areyou this morning, Casanova?"
"I heard about what happened," Matt said. "I'm sorry."
"For me or Monahan?"
"Both."
"I'm sorry for Malone and Monahan, and for me. I'm even sorry for you. Everybody's sorry for someone else."
"Why are you sorry for me?" Matt asked.
"I would desperately like to have a cold beer," Wohl said, as if he hadn't heard the question. "For purely medicinal purposes."
"Help yourself," Matt said, gesturing toward the kitchen. "Bring me one too, please."
"You want a glass?" Wohl called the kitchen.
"Absolutely. A good beer, like a decent wine, needs to breathe."
"Oh, God!"
"It's true," Matt said.
Wohl came into the living room with two bottles of Tuborg, glasses sitting upside down on their necks.
"And there is a way to get the beer from the bottle to the glass," Matt said, demonstrating. "One pours the glass approximately half full by decanting against the side of the glass, and then, at the precise moment, allowing the incoming liquid to fall into the middle, thus providing the proper head."
He looked at Wohl, smiling. Wohl did not return the smile.
"You're going to be investigated by the FBI, for the Justice Department, for violating the civil rights of Charles David Stevens."
"I know. The FBI told me last night."
"They were here already?" Wohl asked, surprised.
"They sent a young FBI agent, Jack Matthews, to tell me. On the QT."
"How nice of the FBI," Wohl said. "I wonder why they are being so friendly?"
"I've been wondering the same thing myself."
"I wouldn't worry about this, Matt."
"You know the joke?"
"What joke?"
"The doctor about to perform major surgery looks down at the patient and says,Iwouldn't worry about this,' and the patient looks up and says,'if I wasn't lying here, I wouldn't be worried either.'"
"Well, I mean it. It's a defense tactic, a sleazy one, but that's all it is."
"I was worried about it," Matt said. "But I just got off the telephone with Colonel Mawson. He said he's going to sue the-what is it?-Coalition for Something?"
"Equitable Law Enforcement."
"He's going to sue them for ninety-nine million dollars, the minute the FBI actually shows up here. I think he's delighted it happened."
Wohl smiled.
"I had a few too many drinks last night."
"The Tuborg will fix that," Matt said.
"I shouldn't have made that early morning call."
"Why don't we both forget it? I just hope, among other things, that the knowledge won't make it awkward for you with Stillwell. How the hell did you find out, anyhow?"
"Why should it be awkward for me?
"In Harrisburg, I mean."
"I'm not going to Harrisburg."
"That's not what it said on the radio. The radio said you had been appointed chief investigator to Stillworth, who was just appointed to some bullshit position with the attorney general."
"The radio is wrong. Never believe what you hear on the radio. For that matter, never believe what you read in the newspaper, especially theLedger.
"Really?"
"Dave Pekach proposed to Martha Peebles. Surprising no one at all, she accepted. She had a few of his friends, Mike Sabara and his wife, Jack Malone, and me, plus Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth Stillwell in for a little intimate supper."
"And that's where you found out? Matt asked. "Christ, how?
"Yourparamour -is that the word?"
"For the sake of discussion only, it will do."
"Yourparamour, as I said, was there. She sounded very much like a lady who left erotic messages on your answering machine. Being the clever fellow I am, I put two and two together. And being the horse's ass I seem to be when I'm drinking, I-I called you."
"Christ, does anybody else know?"
"I don't think so. But that wasn't the smartest thing you ever did, Matt."
"You ever hear that a stiff prick has no conscience?"
"How deep are you in with her?"
"It happened just once," Matt said. "She was at a party downstairs. She saw my gun and got turned on by it. She was a little drunk."
"Are you going to pursue it?" Wohl asked, and then, before Matt could reply, asked, "What do you mean she got turned on by your gun?
"It was a little frightening. She wanted to know if it was the gun I used on the serial rapist. It aroused her."
"Well,are you going to pursue it?"
"What do you do to get out of something like this?"
"You thank God the lady's leaving town. In the meantime, don't answer your telephone."
"Anything like this ever happen to you?"
"You mean a gun fetishist?"
"I mean a married woman."
"Yeah. Once. It was very painful."
Matt picked up his glass and leaned back in the leather armchair, looking thoughtfully into his beer.
I wonder why I told him that? Wohl thought. I damned sure never told anybody else.
"I don't want to sound like I didn't know what I was doing, but I didn't actually seduce her," Matt said.
"No man has ever seduced a mature woman," Wohl said. "And probably very few virgins have ever been seduced. The way it works is thatthey decide whothey want to have take them to bed, and thenthey arrange to be seduced."
Matt looked up at him.
"You really believe that?"
I don't know if I do or not. It sounds plausible. But what I was really trying to do was cheer him up. More than that, to point him onto Ye Olde Straight and Narrow.
Why the hell am I doing that? What the hell am I doing here, anyway? I could have told him about the FBI investigation on the phone.
The answer, obviously, is that I am very fond of this kid. He is, I suppose, the little brother that I never had. So what's wrong with that?
"It sounds plausible," Wohl said with a grin.
"So I'm not on your shit list?"
"You're not on mine, butI'm apparently on everybody else's."
"They're not blaming you for what happened?"
"It's a question of who had the responsibility. That's spelled W O H
L."
"You couldn't be expected to sit outside his house yourself," Payne argued. "If it's anybody's fault, it's Jack Malone's."
"Malone works for me," Wohl said. "Whatever he does, or doesn't do, is my responsibility."
"Loyalty down and loyalty up, huh?"
"Is something wrong with that?"
Matt shrugged and looked uncomfortable.
"Come on, Matt, out with it."
Payne met his eyes.
"Did you tell Malone to lay off trying to catch Bob Holland?"
"Not specifically," Wohl replied. "I'm sure he got the message, though." And then he understood the meaning of Payne's question. "What do you know that I don't, Matt?"