In a moment Payne came back out, trailed by the manager and two costumed rib-cookers in red chef's hats and white jackets and aprons, bearing large foil-wrapped packages and what looked like a half case of beer.

Payne opened the nose of his Porsche, and everything was loaded inside. Payne reached in his pocket and handed bills to the manager and the two guys in cook's suits. They beamed at him.

Payne closed the nose of his Porsche, got behind the wheel, and the three-car convoy rolled off again.

I didn't know Ribs Unlimited offered takeouts, Malone thought, and then, Jesus Christ, me and my big mouth: When I offer to pay for the ribs, as I have to, I will have to give him a check, because I have maybe nineteen dollars in my pocket. A check that will be drawn against insufficient funds and will bounce, unless I can get to the bank and beg that four-eyed asshole of an assistant manager to hold it until payday.

Five minutes later they were unloading the nose of the Porsche in a basement garage.

Payne's apartment, which they reached after riding an elevator and then walking up a narrow flight of stairs, was something of a disappointment.

It was nicely furnished, but it was very small. Somehow, after the Porsche, and because it was on Rittenhouse Square, he had expected something far more luxurious.

McFadden carried the case of beer into the kitchen, and Malone heard bottles being opened.

"Here you are, Lieutenant," he said. "You ever had any of this? Tuborg. Comes from Holland."

"Denmark," Payne corrected him, tolerantly.

Malone took out his wallet.

"This is my treat, you will recall," he said. "What's the tab?"

"This is my apartment," Payne said with a smile. "You owe us a cheese-steak."

"I insist."

"So do I," Payne said, and put the neck of the Tuborg bottle to his lips.

"Well, okay," Malone said, putting his wallet back in his pocket.

Did he do that because he is a nice guy? Or because he is the last of the big spenders? Or was I just lucky? Or has Wohl had a confidential chat with him about The New Lieutenant, and his problems, financial and otherwise?

"You two eat in the living room," McFadden ordered, "so I can have the table in here."

"Among Officer McFadden's many, many other talents," Payne said cheerfully, "he assures me that he is the product of four years of mechanical drawing in high school. He is going to prepare drawings of that goddamn old building that will absolutely dazzle Inspector Wohl."

McFadden smiled. "My father works for UGI," he said. "My mother wanted me to go to work there as a draftsman." (United Gas Industries, the Philadelphia gas company.)

"My father's a fireman," Malone said. "I was supposed to be a fireman."

"Let's eat, before they get cold," Payne said. "Or do you think I should stick them into the oven on general principles?"

McFadden laid a hand on the aluminum. "They're still hot. Or warm, anyway."

He opened one of the packages. Payne took plates, knives and forks, and a large package of dinner-sized paper napkins from a closet.

"You going to need any help?" he asked McFadden.

"No," McFadden said flatly. "Just leave me something to eat and leave me alone."

"You'd better put an apron on, or you'll get rib goo all over your uniform," Payne said.

"They call that barbecue sauce," McFadden said. "'Rib goo'! Jesus H. Christ!"

Payne handed him an apron with MASTER CHEF painted on it. Then he began to pass out the ribs, coleslaw, baked beans, salad, rolls, and other contents of the aluminum-wrapped packages.

A piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Malone picked it up. It was the cash register tape from Ribs Unlimited. Three complete Rib Feasts at $11.95 came to $35.85. They had charged Payne retail price for the BEER, IMPORT, which, at $2.25 a bottle, came to $27.00. With the tax, the bill was nearly seventy dollars.

And Payne had tipped the manager and both cooks. Christ, that's my food budget for two weeks.

"Fuck it," McFadden said. "Eat first, work later. McFadden's Law."

He sat down and picked up a rib and started to gnaw on it.

"That makes sense," Payne said. "Sit down, Lieutenant. They do make a good rib."

"I know. I used to take my wife there," Malone said without thinking.

McFadden silently ate one piece of rib, and then another. He picked up his beer bottle, drank deeply, burped, and then delicately wiped his mouth with a paper napkin.

"Are you going to tell me, Lieutenant, what's going on at half past four tomorrow morning at that school building?" McFadden suddenly asked, "Hewon't tell me."

"What makes you think something's going on?"

"The word is out that something is," McFadden said.

"Can I tell you without it getting all over Highway before half past four tomorrow morning?" Malone replied, after a moment's hesitation.

"Then you'd better not tell me, Lieutenant," McFadden said. "Not that I would say anything to anybody-just between you, me, and the lamppost, Lieutenant, the only thing Highway has going for me is that it keeps me from doing school crossing duty in a district-but Highway is going to find out, and I wouldn't want you to think I was the one who told them."

"He's right, Lieutenant," Payne said. "If Charley knows something's going to happen, so does everybody in Highway, and they will snoop around until they find out what."

"As Lieutenant Malone, I can't tell you," Malone said. "But we're off duty, right? And you're Charley, and I'm Jack, and this won't go any further?"

He saw Payne's eyes appraising him.

Is he going to go to Wohl first thing in the morning?"Inspector, I think I should tell you that that new lieutenant can't keep his mouth shut."

Fuck it, I sense an opening here to get to McFadden. If I can get McFadden to agree not to tell Wohl about finding me at Holland's, Payne will probably, or at least possibly, fall in line. And if he doesn't, if I blow this, things can't get any worse than they are now.

"Okay, Jack," McFadden said. "Out of school, what's going on in the morning?"

Malone saw Payne's eyes flash between him and McFadden and back again.

Shit! He's suspicious as hell.

"If I did, Payne, would you feel you had to tell Inspector Wohl I told him?"

Payne met his eyes. Then he picked up his bottle of beer and took a pull at it.

"Lieutenant," Payne said. "I don't really know what the hell is going on here."

"I beg your pardon?"

"We're out of school, right?"

"Absolutely."

"No, then. I wouldnot tell the Inspector you told Charley about what' s going on at half past four in the morning. I was going to tell him anyway. I was just pulling his chain, not telling him before. That's not what's bothering me."

"What is, then?"

"You showed up at the school tonight, for one thing. 'Call me Jack,' and 'Let me buy you fellas a cheese-steak,' for some more."

Christ, I'm losing control. Am I just bad at this? Or are these two a lot smarter than I gave them credit for being?

"I went out to the school because I thought you were taking heat for something that was my responsibility."

"What do you want from us, Lieutenant?" Payne asked, both his tone of voice and the look in his eyes making it clear he hadn't bought that at all. "Has it got something to do with Charley finding you snooping around Holland's body shop?"

Christ, he already knows! What did I expect? Well, fuck it, I blew it.

"Are you going to tell Inspector Wohl about that?" Malone asked.

"Unless you can come up with a good reason I shouldn't", Payne said.

Malone glanced at McFadden. He recognized the look in McFadden's eyes. He had seen it a hundred times. A cop who knew that the suspect had been lying all along had just told him he knew he had been lying all along, and was waiting to see what reaction that would cause.