"We had plainclothes Narcotics officers on DeZego," Wohl said. " One of them had a camera."

"But they didn't see the shooting itself?"

Wohl shook his head.

"That sometimes happens, I suppose," Davis said. "God, I wish I had known where these pictures had come from, Peter. I mean, when the other set came over the threshold."

"Why?"

"Well, I finally decided-my criminal affairs AAC and I did-that someone was trying to tell us something and that we'd really have to check it out. So we went through the routine. Sent copies to Washington and to every FBI office. Real pain in the ass. It's not like the old days, of course, when we would have to make a copy negative, then all those prints, and then mail them. Now we can wire photographs, of course. They're not as clear as a glossy print but they're usable. The trouble is, they tie up the lines. A lot of the smaller offices don't have dedicated phone lines, you see, which means the Bureau has to absorb all those long-distance charges."

"Well, Walter," Wohl said, "you have my word on it. I'll locate whoever sent those photos over here without an explanation and make sure that it never happens again."

"I'd appreciate that, Peter," Davis said. "We try to be as cooperative as we can, and you know we do. But we need a little help."

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time with this," Peter said.

"Don't be silly," Davis said, getting up and putting his hand out. "I know the pressures you're under. Don't be a stranger, Peter. Let's have lunch sometime."

"Love to," Wohl said. "One thing, Walter. You said those pictures have already been passed around. Do you think you'll get a make?"

"Who knows? If we do, I'll give Jack Duffy a call straight off."

"Thank you for seeing me," Peter said. "I know you're a very busy man."

"Goes with the territory," Special Agent in Charge Davis said.

"I'm sorry, sir," the rent-a-cop sitting in front of Penelope Detweiler's room in Hahneman Hospital said as he rose to his feet and stood in Matt Payne's way. "You can't go in there."

"Why not?" Matt asked.

"Because I say so," the rent-a-cop said.

"I'm a cop," Matt said.

He felt a little uneasy making that announcement. The rent-a-cop was almost surely a retired policeman. He remembered hearing Washington say that one of the rent-a-cops the Detweilers had hired was a retired Northwest Detectives sergeant. He suspected he was talking to him.

"And I've been hired by the Detweiler family to keep people away from Miss Detweiler without Mr. or Mrs. Detweiler's say so."

"You've got two options," Matt said, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt. "You either get out of the way, or I'll get on the phone and four guys from Highway will carry you out of the way."

"There's a very sick girl in there," the rent-a-cop said.

"I know that," Matt said. "What's it going to be?"

"I could lose my job letting you in."

"You don't have any choice," Matt said. "If I have to call for help, I'll charge you with interfering with a police officer. Thatwill cost you your job."

The rent-a-cop moved to the side and out of the way, watched Matt enter the room, and then walked quickly down the corridor to the nurses' station, where, without asking, he picked up a telephone and dialed a number.

"Ready for water polo?" Matt said to Penelope Detweiler.

Christ, she looks even worse than the last time I saw her.

"Hello, Matt," Penelope said, managing a smile.

"You feel as awful as you look?" he asked. "One might suppose that you have been out consuming intoxicants and cavorting with the natives in the Tenderloin."

"I really feel shitty," she said. "Matt, if I asked you for areal favor, would you do it?"

"Probably not," he said.

"That was pretty quick," she said, hurt. "I'm serious, Matt. I really need a favor."

"I really wouldn't know where to get any, Penny. Your supplier's dead, you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

He handed her one of the manila envelopes of photographs.

"What's this?"

"Open it. Have a look. The jig, as they say, is up."

"I thought you were my friend, that I could at least count on you."

"You can, Penny."

"Then do me the favor. I'll give you a phone number, Matt. And all you would have to do is meet the guy someplace."

"You're not listening," he said. "Bullshit time is over, Penny. Look at the photographs."

"You're a son of a bitch, you always have been. A son of a bitch and a shit. I hate you."

"I like you too," Matt said. "Look at the goddamn pictures."

"I don't want to look at any goddamn pictures. What are they of, anyway?"

She slid the stack of photographs out of the envelope.

"Oh, Jesus," she said, her voice quavering.

"Got your attention now, have I?"

"Have you got him in jail?"

"In jail"? What the hell does that mean? Why should we have the FBI guys in jail?

"Looks familiar, does he?"

"He's the man who shot me, who killed Tony," Penelope Detweiler said. "I'll never forget him-that face-as long as I live."

Jesus H. Christ! What the hell is she talking about? What am I into?

"We know all about you and Tony, Penny," Matt said. "As I said, you can stop the bullshit."

"Who is this man? Why did he kill Tony?"

"Who knows?" Matt blurted.

"He won't tell you?"

"He's being difficult," Matt said. "I don't think he believes that you're alive. If he had killed you, there would be no witnesses."

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I'm just saying the first thing that pops into my mind. Jesus Christ, why did I do this? I'm going to fuck the whole thing up!

"I'll testify. I saw him. I saw him shoot Tony, and then he shot me."

"Why didn't you tell us before?"

"I couldn't hurt my father that way," Penelope said, making it clear she considered her reply to be self-evident. "My God, Matt, he thinks I'm still his little girl."

"And all the while you've been fucking Tony DeZego, right?"

"That's a shitty thing to say. We were in love. That was just like you, Matt. Always thinking the nastiest thing and then saying it in the nastiest possible way."

"Tony the Zee had a wife and two kids," Matt said. "Little boys."

He couldn't tell from the look in her eyes if this was news to her or not.

"I don't believe that," she said.

"I told you, precious Penny, bullshit time is over. You were running around with a third-rate guinea gangster, amarried guinea gangster with two kids. Who was supplying you with cocaine."

"He really was married?" she asked.

Matt nodded.

"I didn't know that," she said. "But it wouldn't have mattered. We were in love."

"Then I feel sorry for you," Matt said. "I really do."

"Does Daddy know about Tony?"

"Not yet. He knows about the coke. But he'll have to find out about DeZego."

"Yes, I suppose he will," she said calmly. "If I'm going to testify against this man, and I will, it will just have to come out, and Daddy and Mommy will just have to adjust to it."

She looked at him and smiled.

Jesus Christ, he thought, she's stoned.

He saw that her pupils were dilated.

Has she been getting that shit in here? In a hospital?

She's on cloud nine. I think the technical term is "euphoric. " She didn't even react when I called DeZego a guinea gangster, or when I told her he's married and has two kids. The first should have enraged her, and the second should have… caused a much greater reaction than it did. She didn't deny it when I said DeZego was supplying her with cocaine, and she didn't seem at all upset when I told her I know her father knows about the cocaine and will inevitably learn about her and DeZego.