Matt chuckled. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m very sorry about Penny, Matt,” Washington said.

“Thank you.”

“It was originally my intention, and that of my fair lady, to come to add our voices to the chorus of those telling you that you are in no way responsible for what happened.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean that. I am not just saying it.”

“I know,” Matt said.

“My lesser half-who is a bitch on wheels when awakened from her slumber in the wee hours-is going to be mightily piqued when I finally show up at home and tell her I have been here alone.”

Matt chuckled.

“Considering that sacrifice I have made-you have seen the lady in a state of pique and should be sympathetic-do you think you could find it in your heart to offer me one of whatever it is you’re drinking?”

“Sorry,” Matt said. “This is Irish. Is that all right?”

“Gaelic chauvinist’s scotch will do nicely. Thank you,” Washington said.

“You’ve been on the job?” Matt asked as he walked toward the kitchen.

“Indeed.”

“I thought you’d be taking some time off, going to the Shore or something.”

“There have been several interesting developments,” Washington said. “What opinion did you form of Staff Inspector Weisbach?”

“I liked him. He’s smart as hell.”

“That’s good, because he’s our new boss.”

“Really?”

“Would you be interested in his opinion of you?”

“Yeah.”

“He said you need to be held on a tight leash.”

“Is that what he said?”

“That’s what he said.”

“You said ‘our new boss.’ Are we going to be involved in this Ethical Affairs business?”

“I think we are the Ethical Affairs Unit.”

“That sounds like Internal Affairs by another name.”

Matt walked back into his living room and handed Washington the drink.

“Not precisely. Wohl and Weisbach have elected to lend a broad interpretation to their mandate.”

“Wohl was here.”

“I saw him in the lobby.”

“He didn’t say anything to me about…anything.”

“Under the circumstances…”

“He did mention half a dozen times that what I have to do is put…what happened to Penny…behind me, and get on with my life.”

“And so you should. Anyway, Armando C. Giacomo had Wohl and Weisbach as his guests for lunch at the Rittenhouse Club.”

“He’s representing Cassandro?”

“Uh-huh. And Mr. Cassandro really does not wish to go to jail. Mr. Giacomo proposed a deal: Cassandro testifies against Cazerra, Meyer, and company, in exchange for immunity from prosecution.”

“They’re not going to deal, are they? They don’t need his testimony. We have the bastard cold.”

“What Peter and Weisbach find interesting is why the deal was proposed. Giacomo can, if he can’t get him off completely, delay his trial for forever and a day, and then keep him from actually going to jail, with one appeal or another, for another couple of years. So, what, in other words, is going on?”

“What is?”

“Weisbach and Wohl, taking a shot in the dark, told Giacomo that the only thing we’re interested in, vis-a-vis Cassandro, that might accrue to his advantage would be help with the murder of Officer Kellog and what happened at the Inferno Lounge. According to Weisbach, Giacomo acted as if something might be worked out.”

“The mob would give us one, or both, doers in exchange for Cassandro?”

Washington nodded. “Which, since that would constitute a gross violation of the Sicilian Code of Honor, again raises the question, Why is Cassandro not going to trial so important? And that is what Weisbach and I have been trying to find out.”

“And?”

“Nothing so far.”

“Anything turn up on the Inferno Lounge job?”

“No. But I suspect there may be a connection there. Rather obviously, it was a hit, not a robbery. If it was a contract hit, it was expensive. If they give us that doer, that means Cassandro not going to jail is really important, and we’re back to why.”

Matt grunted.

“Anyway, you’ll be close to that one. You’re still going to Homicide. Whenever you feel up to coming back on the job.”

“If I had my druthers, I’d come back tomorrow morning. I really dread tomorrow.”

“At something of a tangent,” Washington said, “I have something to say which may sound cruel. But I think I should say it. My first reaction when I heard what happened was relief.”

Matt didn’t reply at first.

“I’ve also felt that,” he said finally. “It makes me feel like a real sonofabitch.”

“I’ve seen a good many murders, Matt. And more than my fair share of narcotics addicts. I hold the private opinion that a pusher commits a far more heinous crime than-for example-whoever shot Officer Kellog. Or Mrs. Alicia Atchison and Mr. Anthony J. Marcuzzi at the Inferno. For them, it was over instantaneously. It was brutal, but not as brutal as taking the life of a young woman, in painful stages, over a long period of time.”

Matt did not reply.

“The point of this little philosophical observation, Matt, is that Penny was murdered the first time she put a needle in her arm. When you…became romantically involved…with one another, she was already dead. The man who killed her was the man who gave her her first hard drugs.”

“I loved her.”

“Yes, I know.”

“We had a fight the last time I saw her. About me being a cop.”

“If you had agreed to become the Nesfoods International Vice President in Charge of Keeping the Boss’s Daughter Happy as of tomorrow morning, Matt,” Washington said seriously, “she would have found some other excuse to seek narcotic euphoria. The addiction was out of her control. It had nothing to do with you. You’ve got to believe that, for the simple reason that it’s true.”

“I’ll never know now, will I?”

Washington met his eyes, then set his drink down.

“Let’s go bar-crawling.”

“What?” Matt asked, surprised at the suggestion.

“How long have you been up here in the garret?”

Matt thought about that before replying.

“I got here about one-thirty.”

“Twelve hours in a smoke-filled room. That’s enough. Get your coat.”

“Where are we going?”

“The Mall Tavern. At Tenth and Cherry. When I was an honest Homicide detective, I used to go there for a post-duty libation. Let’s go listen to the gossip. Maybe we’ll hear something interesting.”

FOURTEEN

He doesn’t look like a cop, Amy thought when she saw Peter talking to the night manager in the lobby of her apartment building. Mr. Ramerez has put the well-cut suit and the Jaguar together and decided Dr. Payne is carrying on with a lawyer or a stockbroker.

“Good evening, Doctor,” Peter said.

“Thank you for coming at this hour,” Amy replied. “Shall we go up?” She smiled at Mr. Ramerez. “Good evening, Mr. Ramerez.”

It is obviously important to me that Mr. Ramerez understand that I am not carrying on with him, cop or stockbroker.

They rode in silence and somewhat awkwardly to Amy’s apartment. She unlocked the door, and entered. He followed her.

“Coffee? Or a drink?” she asked.

“Neither, thank you. You said you wanted to talk about Matt.”

“I think it important that he not be left alone.”

“Tiny Lewis-he’s a police officer…”

“I know who he is,” Amy interrupted.

Peter nodded and went on: “…will be at Matt’s apartment at seven-fifteen in the morning. If you think he should not be alone tonight, I can go back.”

“I think he’ll be all right tonight,” she said. “Can you keep him busy? Especially for the next few days?”

Wohl nodded.

“He blames himself for Penny,” Amy said.

“Yes, I know.”

“I don’t know if you appreciate it, but he is actually rather sensitive.”

“I know.”

“You know what he did tonight?” she asked, and went on without waiting for a reply. “He put his arms around me and asked who holds my hand when I need it.”