"And it went into the tire far enough so that it got thrown into the wheel well, behind the rubber," Harry said. "I don't know what the hell it is. A piece of junk metal."

"When you get the spare on, Harry, have somebody help you push it into the corner." He pointed. "I'm going to walk across the street to the courthouse and give this to Springs. Souvenir."

"You think he'll want a souvenir?"

"Who can tell."

When Tomer went into the Patrol Division of the Sheriff's Department, they told him that Deputy Springs had slammed his chest into the steering wheel harder than he thought, that they'd x-rayed him at the hospital, nothing was broke, but the sheriff told him to take a couple of days off.

Tomer left the piece of steel, with the sawlike edge and the piece of chain wedged into it, and then walked back across the street to Martin's Ford and went back to work.

There were no telephone calls at all for Sergeant O'Dowd or Detective Payne all morning, until just before lunch, when Lieutenant Malone telephoned to say that he and Detective Washington were going to see Mr. Larkin at the Secret Service office, and that they should wait for their phone to ring; maybe something would happen when the eight-to-four tour came off duty.

Detective Payne and Officer Lewis took luncheon at Roy Rogers' Western Hamburger emporium. When they returned to the office, Sergeant O'Dowd went for his lunch. As soon as he was out the door, Detective Payne called Miss Penelope Detweiler at her residence and asked if she would like to go up to the Poconos for dinner.

Miss Detweiler accepted immediately, and with such obvious delight that it made Detective Payne a bit uneasy. He next called the residence of Mrs. Evelyn Glover and left a message on her answering machine that he had to work, and that if he got off at a reasonable hour, say before nine, he would call.

When he put the telephone back in its cradle, he felt Tiny Lewis's eyes on him, and looked at him.

"The last of the great swordsmen at work, huh?"

"Would you believe me, Officer Lewis, if I gave you my word as a gentleman that carnal activity with either lady is the one thing I don't want?"

"No," Officer Lewis said. "I would not."

It wasn't until Matt went into the parking lot to claim his car that he remembered he was driving the Bug. He glanced at his watch, even though he was fully aware that it was only a minute or two after five.

There would not be time to drive all the way downtown to the apartment to get the Porsche. He had told Penny he would pick her up at five-fifteen, and please not to make him wait, it was going to be at least a two-hour-drive to the Poconos.

He fired up the Bug and drove cross town to Chestnut Hill. The Bug was not going to be a problem, he could park it, probably, where no one would see it at Oaks and Pines Lodge, and if Penny didn't like it, screw her, let her see up close how the other half lived.

It didn't work out that way.

Surprising him not at all, H. Richard Detweiler answered the door of the Detweiler mansion himself, and informed him first that Penny would be down in a moment.

"Your Porsche is down?" he asked, and then as if that was self evident went on without giving Matt a chance to reply, "Your dad told me you couldn't bring yourself to sell the Volkswagen."

"An old friend, tried and true," Matt said. "It would have been like selling Amy."

Detweiler smiled a little uncomfortably.

"Tell you what," Mr. Detweiler said. "The Mercedes man was here today. Yesterday. Doing Penny's car. It hadn't been moved, since… uh…you brought it out here."

The Philadelphia Police Department (specifically then Officer M. M. Payne and then Detective Jason Washington) had returned the victim' s automobile, a 1973 Mercedes-Benz 380 SL roadster, to her residence after it had been processed by the forensics experts of the Mobile Crime Lab at the scene of the crime. The scene of the crime had been a Center City parking lot where the victim had been wounded by a shotgun during a homicide in which Mr. Anthony J. DeZego had been fatally shot by unknown person or persons.

Jesus, that's a great idea! I really didn't want to roll up to the Oaks and Pines in the Bug.

"It really should be driven," Mr. Detweiler said. "Why don't you take it? It's a long way to Allentown."

"Allentown"? What the hell does he mean, "Allentown"? And now that I think about it, it's a lousy idea. I don't want Precious Penny reminded of Tony the Zee lying on the concrete with his stomach blown out his back.

"Is that a good idea?" Matt said. "Bad memories?"

"I thought of that," H. Richard Detweiler said, somewhat impatiently. He touched Matt's shoulder. "Replace bad memories with a good one, right?"

He waited until Matt nodded, then pushed him toward the door.

"Come on in and have a drink, one drink, and I'll have Jensen get the car while we're having it."

Jensen was the Detweilers' chauffeur.

Detweiler led Matt onto the veranda outside the small sitting room where, predictably, Grace Detweiler was also waiting.

"How are you, Matt? You look very nice."

Matt, as he was expected to, kissed her cheek.

Detweiler picked up the telephone.

"Florence," he ordered, "would you please ask Jensen to bring Penny's car around to the front?"

"What's that all about?" Grace Detweiler asked.

"Matt's car is down," Detweiler said. "He's driving his Volkswagen, which is visibly on its last legs. Or tires. I suggested that he take Penny's car."

"Is that a good idea?" Grace challenged.

"He's a policeman now," Detweiler said. "He doesn't get tickets, he gives them."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant," Detweiler snapped. "Leave it lie, Grace. They're taking the Mercedes."

"Well, excuse me!"

"Scotch all right, Matt?"

"A weak one, please," Matt said.

Penny and the chauffeur came onto the veranda together.

"Whenever you're ready, Mr. Detweiler," Jensen said,

"Communications problem again," Detweiler said. "Mr. Matt and Penny will be taking the car. I'm not going anywhere."

Penny walked to Matt and leaned up and kissed his cheek. She was wearing a crisp-looking cord suit with a frilly blouse under the jacket.

Giving the devil his-the deviless her-due, she's not a bad-looking female.

He had a quick, clear mental image of her in his erotic dream and wondered, almost idly, if she really looked that way, au naturel.

The next line in this little scenario of life in Chestnut Hill will be Detweiler telling me to make sure I get Precious Penny home by twelve, or maybe twelve-thirty.

"I'll put your bag in the car, Miss Penny," Jensen said.

"Thank you, Jensen," Penny smiled sweetly.

"Bag"? What bag? And what was that about Allentown?

"Well, Matt," Penny said. "You said not to keep you waiting. Here I am. Are we going to go or what?"

"One or the other," Matt said. "I don't know what you mean by ' what.'"

"We'll see you later," Penny said, and caught Matt's hand and led him off the veranda.

"Have a good time," Grace Detweiler called after them.

Jensen was waiting by the Mercedes, waiting to close Penny's door. Both doors were open.

Matt got behind the wheel, adjusted the seat, and waited for Penny to get it. The moment she closed the door he could smell her perfume.

A gas expands to the limits of its containment; there ain't a hell of a lot of space in here. Be nice.

"You smell good," Matt said.

"Oh, I'mso glad you noticed!" Penny said.

Is that sarcasm?

Matt looked over at her. Penny was bent over, fixing the carpet, or something, on the floorboard. He got a quick, unintentional look down her blouse. A white brassiere. For some reason, he had always found crisp white feminine undergarments to have a certain erotic quality.