The Investigators Part 30

"Everything," she said.

"He's very fond of Matt," Wohl said. "And he had a couple of drinks."

"I hardly know where to ask you to start," Amy said. "Why don't we start with the twelfth-floor ledge of the Bellvue-Stratford? That sounds very interesting."

"It wasn't as bad as it sounds, Amy. That ledge was two feet wide. And I really read the riot act to him when I heard about it."

"Two feet wide and twelve stories off the ground, right? Let's have it, Peter."

"You read in the papers where a Vice Squad lieutenant was taking money from a call girl madam?"

Amy nodded.

"A lot of it took place in the Bellvue. Matt was on the surveillance detail. They put a microphone on a hotel-room window with a suction cup. The cup fell off. Matt went out on the ledge and put it back in place."

"He risked his life so you could arrest a call girl madam?"

"We were really after the police officers involved. And don't get mad at me, Amy. I didn't tell him to do it. And I ate his a.s.s out when I found out about it."

Amy snorted.

Peter started to take his bathrobe off.

"Just hold it right there," Amy said. "This isn't pick-it-up-where-we-left-it-when-we-were-so-rudely-interrup ted time. Who are these people Denny Coughlin is afraid Matt will try to arrest by himself?"

"I can't get into that," Wohl said. "I'm sorry."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amy flared, parrot ing, " 'I can't get into that'?"

"It's a highly confidential underway investigation."

"And you never talk about highly confidential underway investigations to the bimbo you're banging, right?"

"Is that what you think you are to me? Some bimbo I'm banging?"

"Don't try to change the subject, Peter," Amy said.

"And what am I to you, Amy?" Wohl heard himself asking, wondering where the sudden rage had come from. "A convenient stud? Once or twice a month, when the hormones get active, call the stud and ask if you can come over?"

"How did we get on this subject?" she asked uncomfortably. "Is that what you really think?"

"I don't know what to think," he said.

Amy exhaled audibly.

She met his eyes.

"What do you want me to say? That I think I'm in love with you?"

"If that were the truth, that would be a nice start."

"My patients, I am forced to conclude, are not the only ones who try to avoid facing the truth."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"In this case, the truth I seem to have been avoiding facing is that I am in love with you."

Peter didn't reply.

"No response to that?" Amy asked after a long moment.

"You're so matter-of-fact about it," he said.

"There's something wrong with that?" Amy asked.

Peter shook his head, "no."

"I'll tell you what happens now," Amy said. "If it's the truth, it would be a nice start if you said, 'I love you, too, Amy.' "

"I love you, too, Amy."

"Okay, step two. Now you can take off your robe and come to bed, and after we do what people in love do, step three, you tell me all about this highly confidential underway investigation you've got my little brother involved in."

"Can I suggest step one-A?"

"Suggest."

"I have a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator I've been saving for a suitable occasion."

"Very good. Go get it. Perhaps this love affair of ours isn't going to be as hopeless as logic tells me it's going to be."

"You think it's hopeless?"

"We'll have to wait and find out, won't we, Peter?"

He left the bedroom to fetch the champagne. As he was standing by the sink, unwrapping the wire around the cork, Amy came out of the bedroom and went to him and wrapped her arms around him from the back.

"It's true," she said, almost whispering. "When I saw you walking out of the bedroom, I suddenly realized, My G.o.d, I really do love that man."

It took Matt Payne ten minutes to get through the system set in place to protect Harrisburg's chief of police from unnecessary intrusions on his time by the public and to his second-floor office in the police headquarters building, but once he got that far, he found that his pa.s.sage had been greased.

"The chief's on the phone, Detective Payne," his pleasant secretary greeted him with a smile, "but he's been expecting you. Can I get you a c.o.ke or a cup of coffee?"

"Coffee would be nice. Thank you."

She was pouring the coffee when the red light indicating the chief's line was busy went out, and she stopped pouring the coffee and picked up one of the phones on her desk.

"Detective Payne just came in," she announced.

A moment later the door to the chief's office opened and a stocky, ruddy-faced man in uniform came through it, his hand extended, and a smile on his face.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," the chief said. "The d.a.m.ned phone. You know how it is. Agnes take care of you all right?"

"Yes, sir," Matt said, as he took the Chief's hand and nodded toward the coffee machine.

"Pour one of those for me and bring them in, will you, Agnes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come on in, Payne, and we'll see what we can do to make things a little easier for you."

"Thank you, sir," Matt said.

A highly polished nameplate on the chief's desk identified him as A. J. Mueller. At each end of the plate was a deer's foot, and there were two deer's heads hanging from the walls. One wall was covered with photographs, about half of them showing the chief shaking hands with other policemen and what looked like politicians-one showed the chief shaking hands with the governor and another with the Hon. Jerome H. Carlucci-and the rest showing the chief, in hunting clothes, beaming, holding up the heads of deer he'd apparently shot.

A gla.s.s-doored cabinet held an array of marksmanship-mostly pistol-trophies and four different target pistols with which he had presumably won the trophies.

"I hope you didn't check into a hotel yet?" Chief Mueller asked, motioning for Matt to sit in one of the armchairs facing his highly polished desk.

"No, sir. I came directly here."

"Good. I called the Penn-Harris-that's the best in town-and got you a special rate."

"That was very kind of you, sir," Matt said.

"Well, not only does Walter Davis speak highly of you, but-maybe I shouldn't tell you this-an old friend of mine, Chief Augie Wohl, called and said he heard you were coming out here, that you were not only a pretty good cop but a friend of his, and he'd be grateful if I'd do what I could for you."

"That was very nice of Chief Wohl, sir."

"I'm a little curious how come you know Chief Wohl. To look at you, I'd guess-no offense-Augie retired when you were in grammar school."

"I work for Chief Wohl's son, sir. Inspector Peter Wohl."

"Peter's an inspector? G.o.d, I remember him in short pants. Really. We had a convention of the National a.s.sociation of Chiefs of Police in Atlantic City. I'd just made chief, and it was my first convention. Anyway, Augie brought Peter along. In a cop suit. He was a cute little kid, serious as all get-out."

Matt was unable to restrain a smile at a mental image of a cute little kid named Peter Wohl dressed up in a cop suit.

"Yes, sir. He commands the Special Operations Division."

Agnes delivered the coffee and left, leaving the door ajar. Chief Mueller got up from his desk, walked to the door, and closed it.

"Does Chief Wohl know about this-what do we call it?-'cooperative effort' you're doing with Walter Davis?"

"I don't know, sir. I don't think so, but Inspector Wohl may have told him."

"He didn't mention it on the phone, so we'll presume he doesn't know. Okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"That means on this police force I'll be the only one to know. It's been my experience, generally, that when more than one person knows something, you can forget about it being a secret."

"Yes, sir."

Mueller walked back to his desk, opened the drawer, took out a business card, wrote something on it, and handed it to Matt.

"In case you have to get in touch with me in a hurry," he said. "The first number is my unlisted number at home, and the second is the number of the officer in charge of the radio room. They always know where I am."

"Thank you, sir."

"It might be a good idea if you called in here at least once a day. The third number on there is Agnes's private line. If I have any messages for you-you get the idea."

"Yes, sir. I'll check in with Agnes at least once a day."

"Now, before I call Deitrich in here, let's make sure we have all our b.a.l.l.s lined up in a straight line. Officially, what you're doing here is looking for dirty money the Vice Squad lieutenant may have stashed up here. Is that about it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you really going to do that, or is that just for public consumption?"

"I'm going to be doing that, sir."

"I guess I don't have to tell you that if he does have money, or anything else, hidden up here it doesn't have his name on it?"

"No, sir. I have a list of names of people who might be cooperating with him."

Chief Mueller nodded.

"I hope you find something," Mueller said. "It rubs me the wrong way when crime pays. Especially when the bad guy used to wear a badge."

"I'm sure that's the reason Inspector Wohl sent me up here, sir," Matt said.

"And then this cooperation with Walter and the FBI just came along?"

"That's about it, sir."

"Well, I hope that works, too. For the same reason. It also rubs me the wrong way when people who've killed people just thumb their noses at the rest of us. And get away with it."

"Yes, sir."

"If you need anything, Payne, to help you along, all you have to do is ask."

"Thank you very much, sir."

Mueller went back to his office door and opened it.