“Yes, sir. Sure. You know Chad, don’t you?”

“Hello, Nesbitt. How are you?”

“Inspector.”

“Could you give us a minute?”

“Certainly,” Chad said. “I’ll be outside.”

Wohl waited until they had gone and had closed the door behind them.

“You ever see one of these?” Matt asked, holding the Model 1911 out to Wohl.

“I just heard about you climbing out on the ledge at the Bellvue, you damned fool,” Wohl said.

After a just-perceptible hesitation, Matt asked, “Who told you? Harris?”

“Actually, it was the Mayor. Harris told the Mayor and the Mayor told me.”

“The Mayor?”

“The Mayor thinks it makes you a cop with great big balls,” Wohl said. “I wanted to make sure you understand that in my book it makes you a goddamned fool.”

Matt didn’t reply for a moment.

“Inspector-”

“Just when I start to think that maybe you’ve started to grow up, you do something like that. Jesus H. Christ, Matt!”

“Are you willing to listen to me telling you that ledge was eighteen inches wide?”

“Be in my office at quarter to seven in the morning,” Wohl said.

“Yes, sir.”

“You and Staff Inspector Mike Weisbach are going to serve a warrant of arrest on Lieutenant Seymour Meyer.”

“We are? All of a sudden? What happened? Who’s Weisbach?”

“This is in the nature of a reward,” Wohl said. “I have been ordered by the Mayor to let you in on the arrest. He thinks your goddamned fool stunt on the ledge entitles you, because at two A.M., Paulo Cassandro and Meyer had an angry discussion, during which they mentioned names and specific sums and Meyer’s oral sexual proclivities, all of which were recorded by the microphone you put back in place.”

“No crap? We got ’em?”

“If it was up to me, tomorrow morning you’d be back on recovered stolen automobiles.”

“Ah, come on, Inspector!”

“If you had fallen off that ledge, Supercop, or if you had been seen up there, all the time and money and effort we spent trying to get Meyer would have gone down the toilet. The conversation we got, or one just as incriminating, would have been repeated in a day or two. Don’t you start patting yourself on the back. You acted like a goddamned fool, not like a detective with enough sense to find his ass with both hands.”

He locked eyes with Matt until Matt gave in and shrugged his shoulders in chagrin.

“Quarter to seven, Detective Payne,” Wohl said. “Have a nice night.”

He walked out of the gun room.

Matt replaced the Colt Model 1911 in its cabinet, and was trying to put the cabinet lock back in place when Chad, Penny, and Daffy came back in the room.

“You are forgiven, Penelope,” Matt said. “Out of the goodness of my heart. It will not be necessary for you to grovel in tears at my feet.”

“What was that business about a ledge at the Bellvue?” Penny asked.

“Does he often call you a goddamned fool?” Chad inquired.

“No comment,” Matt said, chuckling, trying desperately but not quite succeeding in making a joke of it.

“What was that all about?”

“He wants to see me at quarter to seven in his office, that’s all.”

“That’s not what it sounded like, buddy.” Chad chuckled.

“Tomorrow we’re going to play golf!” Penny said. “Tomorrow’s your day off. With Tom and Ginny.”

“Tomorrow, like the man said, I will be in Wohl’s office at quarter to seven. We’ll just have to make our excuses to Tom and Ginny. Are they here?”

“We are going to be at Merion at nine,” Penny said flatly.

“Chad, how do you feel about an early round?” Matt asked.

“Matt, I mean it!” Penny said.

“Or what, Penny? This is out of my control. I’m sorry, but I’m a cop.”

“ You’re sorry? Your precious Inspector Wohl is not the only one who thinks you’re a goddamned fool!” Penny said.

“Would you like the goddamned fool to take you home, Penny? I’ve had about all of you I can stand for one night.”

“I’ll get home by myself, thank you very much,” Penny said.

“Oh, come on, you two,” Daffy said.

“Come on, hell!” Penny said, and walked out of the gun room.

“You better go after her, Matt,” Daffy said.

“Why? To get more of the same crap she’s been giving me all night?”

“She’s really angry with you, Matt.”

“Frankly, my dear,” Matt said, in decent mimicry of Clark Gable in Gone With the Wind, “I don’t give a damn.”

TEN

Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin looked at Chief Inspector August Wohl (Retired) and then at Inspector Peter Wohl, shrugged, and said, “OK. I’ll call him.”

He leaned forward on Peter Wohl’s white leather couch for the telephone. He stopped.

“I don’t have his home phone,” he said.

“I’ve got it,” Peter Wohl said. “In my bedroom.”

He pushed himself out of one of the two matching white leather armchairs and walked into his bedroom.

“I don’t like this, Augie,” Denny Coughlin said.

“It took place on his watch,” Chief Wohl said. “He was getting the big bucks to make sure things like this didn’t happen.”

“Big bucks!” Coughlin snorted. “I wonder what’s going to happen to him?”

“By one o’clock tomorrow afternoon, he will be transferred to Night Command. Unless the Mayor has one of his Italian tantrums again, in which case I don’t know.”

Peter Wohl came back in his living room with a sheet of paper and handed it to Coughlin.

“How did I wind up having to do this?” Coughlin asked.

“Peter’s not senior enough, and the Mayor likes you,” Chief Wohl said.

“Jesus,” Coughlin said. He ran his finger down the list of private, official, home telephone numbers of the upper hierarchy of the Philadelphia Police Department, found what he was looking for, and dialed the number of Inspector Gregory F. Sawyer, Jr.

Inspector Sawyer was the Commanding Officer of the Central Police Division, which geographically encompasses Center City Philadelphia south of the City Hall. It supervises the Sixth and Ninth police districts, each of which is commanded by a captain. The Sixth District covers the area between Poplar Street on the north and South Street on the south from Broad Street east to the Delaware River, and the Ninth covers the area west of Broad Street between South and Poplar to the Schuylkill River. Its command is generally regarded as a stepping-stone to higher rank; both Chief Wohl and Chief Coughlin had in the past commanded the Central District.

“Barbara, this is Denny Coughlin,” Chief Coughlin said into the telephone. “I hate to bother you at home, but I have to speak to Greg.”

Chief Wohl leaned forward from his white leather armchair, picked up a bottle of Bushmills Irish whiskey, and generously replenished the glass in front of Denny Coughlin.

“Greg? Denny. Sorry to bother you at home with this, but I didn’t want to take the chance of missing you in the morning. We need you, the Commanding Officer of the Sixth, Sy Meyer, a plainclothesman of his named Palmerston, and a Sixth District uniform named Crater at Peter Wohl’s office at eight tomorrow morning.”

“What’s going on, Denny?” Inspector Sawyer inquired, loudly enough so that Chief Wohl and his son could hear.

“There was an incident,” Coughlin began, visibly uncomfortable with having to lie, “involving somebody who had Jerry Carlucci’s unlisted number. He wants a report from me by noon tomorrow. I figured Wohl’s office was the best place to get everybody together as quietly as possible.”

“An incident? What kind of an incident?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear about it myself until I saw the Mayor tonight. I guess we’ll all find out tomorrow.” He paused. “Greg, I probably don’t have to tell you this, but don’t start your own investigation tonight, OK?”

“Jesus Christ! I haven’t heard a goddamned thing.”

“Don’t feel bad, neither did I. Eight o’clock, Greg.”