"Jack Malone. New lieutenant," her husband told her.

"He's the one with the wife trouble, right?"

"Jesus Christ, Lois!"

"Where's the lady of the house?" Wohl asked.

"I guess she's checking on the food," Pekach said. "Thank you for coming, Inspector. And welcome, Jack."

"The inspector said it would be all right," Malone said.

"Absolutely.

"You don't know Mike's wife, do you, Jack?" Wohl said. "Lois, this is Jack Malone."

"How do you do?" Lois Sabara said.

Madam Sabara, Wohl thought, has obviously heard the gossip vis-a-vis Mrs. Malone. Her tone of voice would freeze a penguin.

"We just ran past Monahan's house," Wohl offered. "Things seem well in hand."

"And Payne?" Sabara asked.

"Officer Payne is dining at the FOP," Wohl said.

"Can he get around well enough for that?" Lois asked. "I thought he was shot in the leg?"

"He will not be the first young police officer to crawl into the FOP," Wohl said. "For that matter, I've seen some pretty old ones crawl in there."

"May I get you gentlemen a cocktail?" Nathaniel asked.

"I'll have Scotch, light on the ice and water, please," Wohl said.

He saw the hesitancy in Malone's eyes, and made the quick decision that when Lois, as she certainly would, recounted her encounter with Lieutenant-Jack-Malone-the-Wife-Beater to her peers, it would be better if she could not crow, "Well, at least he wasn't drinking," from a position of moral superiority.

"Try the Scotch, Jack," he said. "David's been bragging about it."

"Same for me, then," Malone said.

Martha came through a door Wohl hadn't noticed. He approved of what he saw, both sartorially-Martha was wearing a simple black dress with a double string of pearls-and on her face: She was a happy woman.

A wholesome one too, he thought. Dave's going to have a hard time adjusting to life in the palace, and she's going to have a hard time being a cop's wife, but Dave is a decent human being, and I think he's just what this poor little rich girl really needs.

"Good evening, Inspector," she said. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Thank you for asking me," Wohl said. "And David said, when I told him I didn't have a lady to bring, to bring somebody. This is somebody, Lieutenant Jack Malone."

"David's told me about you, Lieutenant," Martha said, shaking his hand.

I wonder how much? Wohl thought.

Farnsworth and Helene Stillwell appeared in the room.

"I don't know him well," Martha said, quickly and softly to Wohl, " but my father knew her father. And I thought that since you're working together, having them would be appropriate."

"Absolutely," Wohl said.

What she's doing-good for her-is trying to foster Dave's career. If she's as smart as I think she is, I will be working for Dave in a couple of years.

He next had a somewhat less upbeat thought when he took a good look at Helene Stillwell.

That one has had a couple of little nips to give her courage to face the party.

"Small world, Peter, eh?" Stillwell greeted him.

"It looks that way, doesn't it?"

"You remember my wife, of course?"

"Yes, of course. Nice to see you, Mrs. Stillwell."

"Oh, please call me Helene."

Helene Stillwell was wearing a black dress, almost an exact duplicate of Martha's, and a similar string of pearls.

The necessary introductions were made and drinks offered and comments about the foul weather exchanged.

I wonder why Martha Peebles doesn't talk that way, using the teethclenched diction Stillwell's wife does? Peter Wohl wondered.

According to Matt Payne, Martha has more money than God, and this house makes it rather obvious that she didn't make it last week. Ergo, she too should talk through her nose and as if she has lockjaw.

But she doesn't. Martha sounds, if not like Lois Sabara, at least like my mother, and Stillwell's wife sounds exactly like the horny married lady from Bala Cynwyd on Matt's answering machine.

"And how, Inspector Wohl, is Officer Payne?" Helene asked.

Jesus H. Christ! Don't let your dirty imagination run away with you!

"It's quarter to eight, Helene. By now I'd say he's on the third pitcher of beer and convinced, given the chance, he could solve all the problems of the Police Department."

"I don't quite follow you?"

"He's on the town, more or less."

"I thought he was-that you had him under protection in some mysterious place. And he's on the town?"

"No mysterious place. He's in his apartment. And tonight he's at the FOP-the Fraternal Order of Police building, on Spring Garden Street. Jack Malone, who is in charge of his security, decided that if there was any place more secure than Matt's apartment, it would be downstairs in the FOP, where there are generally at least a hundred armed cops.

"Yes, of course," Helene said through clenched teeth and sounding exactly like the horny lady from Bala Cynwyd on Matt's answering machine.

Except, of course, we don't know that she's from Bala Cynwyd. Warren Lomax said she sounded like she was from Bala Cynwyd.

"I'm going to drop in on him tomorrow morning," Wohl said. "I'll tell him you were asking about him."

"Yes, please. He's such a nice young man."

And such a comfort to a bored teeth clencher to boot? And that is a martini you're drinking, Helene, isn't it?

"Peter," Farnsworth Stillwell said, walking up. "I really do have to have a word with you."

"Certainly."

"Martha, I need a few minutes alone with Inspector Wohl. Is there somewhere?"

"David, darling, would you take them into the library?"

"Sure," Pekach said.

"Thank you, David darling," Wohl said softly as he followed Pekach out of the room.

Pekach glared at him, and then smiled and shook his head.

"Do I detect a certain element of jealousy, Inspector?"

"Absolutely, David."

Do I really think that Matt is fucking Stillwell's wife? And presuming for the sake of argument that I do, am I annoyed because that's a pretty fucking dumb thing for him to be doing? Or because he' s getting in where Peter Wohl ain't?

"I hope, Farnsworth," Wohl said as he followed Pekach into the library, "that this won't take long. My glass seems to have a hole in it."

"No problem," Pekach said. "Martha's father never liked to get far from the sauce."

He heaved on what looked like a chest. It unfolded upward into a bar.

"There's even a refrigerator and running water in this thing," Pekach said, demonstrating.

"How nice," Stillwell said.

And thank you, Farnsworth Stillwell. I was just about to say, "It must be nice to be rich, and that would have been a dumb thing to say.

"I think Martha's about to serve dinner," Pekach said.

"This won't take long," Stillwell said.

Wohl went to the bar, poured more Scotch into his glass, and added a little water. By then Pekach had left the library and closed the door after himself.

"Now there's a man who knows what to do with an opportunity," Stillwell said, nodding toward the door through which Pekach had left.

"How do you mean?"

"Unless she is smart enough to get an airtight premarital agreement, and floating on the wings of love as she is at the moment, I rather doubt if she will be, your man Pekach is shortly going to be co-owner of half the anthracite coal in Northeast Pennsylvania."

I will be on my good behavior. I will not get into it with this cynical wiseass sonofabitch.

"It couldn't happen to a nicer guy.

"Don't misunderstand me, Peter," Stillwell said. "I like Dave Pekach, and I admire people who take advantage of opportunities that come their way."

Wohl smiled and nodded.

What is this sonofabitch up to?

"Tomorrow morning, Peter, the governor will hold a press conference at which he will appoint a new deputy attorney general for corporate crime. Nice ring to that, isn't there?'Corporate crime.' Everybody knows that the men in corporate boardrooms are robbing the poor people blind. I thought it was one of the governor's brighter moves recently, figuring out for himself that there are more poor people voting than people in corporate boardrooms. I told him so."