He looked at her and smiled.

"Mother, are you plastered?" he asked, amused.

"Tiddly, not plastered," Olivia said. "And I'm not your mother."

His eyebrows rose.

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded," she said, and he saw that she was blushing.

"In vino veritas," Matt said, softly.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It doesn't matter," Matt said, and moved his head the six or eight inches necessary to kiss her.

She didn't pull away.

"I really didn't want that to happen," she said, softly a moment later.

"Are you sorry?"

"Just drive the goddamn car, will you, please?"

He put the Porsche in gear and started off.

ELEVEN

[ONE] As Matt approached Liberties Bar on North Second Street, he saw Martha Washington's Mercedes parked in front, beside Peter Wohl's Jaguar and a half-dozen unmarked cars.

Well, so much for Joe D'Amata's noble attempt to bring me up to speed before Washington asks what I've been doing on my first day as a Homicide sergeant.

He pulled the Porsche to the curb beside one of the unmarked cars, turned off the key, and turned to Olivia.

"You all right, Mother?" he asked.

"Of course I'm all right," she snapped.

"Hey, you're the one who admitted she was too… 'tiddly'… to drive."

"You're an arrogant sonofabitch, you know that?"

He looked at her a moment.

"I owe you that one," he said. "But that ends it. I am not going to burn for my sin through all eternity. You could have turned your head."

"You bastard!"

"What I'm doing right now-fully aware that no good deed ever goes unpunished-is trying to be a nice guy."

"How?" she asked, thickly sarcastic.

"You go in there and they see you're plastered and bitchy, you'll be back at Northwest in the morning."

"Who's 'they'?"

Why can't I keep my mouth shut?

Why did I have to call him an arrogant sonofabitch? And a bastard?

Because I'm bitchy and plastered, that's why.

Shit!

"The Mercedes belongs to Lieutenant Washington-or his wife, same thing-and the Jaguar to Inspector Wohl. There's a new unmarked, which probably means Captain Quaire… You getting the picture?"

"Got it," Olivia said. "Thanks."

"Just sit there, pay attention, and speak only when spoken to, smile, and lay off the booze. Got it?"

"Got it."

Matt got out of the car and stood impatiently, waiting for Olivia to figure out the seat belt and get out of it. He did not hold the door to the bar open for her, but once he was through it, he did hold it open long enough so that it didn't close in her face.

Matt walked to the table holding Jason Washington, Peter Wohl, Joe D'Amata, Harry Slayberg, and-surprising him- Deputy Commissioner Dennis V. Coughlin and Captain Francis X. Hollaran; the new unmarked car was the commissioner's. Matt stood there, sort of waiting for permission to sit down.

Coughlin smiled at Detective Lassiter.

"Matt been keeping you busy, Detective?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good work with the Williamsons, Detective," Coughlin said. "I think-between you and the story Mickey O'Hara had in the paper-that fire's now under control."

"Thank you, sir."

"Sit down, and help yourself," Coughlin ordered, nodding at the bottles on the table. "You, too, Matt."

"Could I get a Diet Coke?" Olivia called to the bartender.

"You don't drink?" Coughlin asked, making it a statement. "Sorry."

"Sometimes, sir, not now."

"Joe tells me you got the sales slip for the camera in New York?" Coughlin asked Matt.

"Yes, sir. Henry Ford of Detroit, Michigan, himself bought it."

"You might call out there and see if they have something similar. Maybe there is a Detroit connection."

"I've already done that, sir," Matt said, and added, to Washington, "I gave a Homicide sergeant there your number. I didn't have any other direct Homicide number."

Washington nodded.

"How did you do at Halligan's Pub?" he asked.

"The bartender said she was looking for Mr. Right to come riding in on a white horse," Matt replied. "That so far as he knew, she didn't play around. We left him cards to pass out to anybody who might know anything, specifically including the names of the guys Mother got from Mrs. Williamson."

" 'Mother'?" Coughlin asked.

"I call Detective Lassiter that to remind myself this beautiful femaleis Detective Lassiter, and that sergeants aren't supposed to notice the beautiful part."

There was laughter and chuckles.

"Good thinking, Sergeant," Coughlin said, smiling broadly.

Goddamn him!

Does he really think I'm beautiful?

"What we're doing now, Lassiter," Wohl said, "is waiting for another beautiful woman-"

"You'll notice he used the word 'beautiful,' " Coughlin interrupted, "which suggeststhat war of the sexes is in the armistice mode."

Wohl flashed him an angry look. The others chuckled.

"-Dr. Payne," Wohl continued, "who has graciously agreed to provide her take on the Williamson doer."

"Where is she?" Matt said.

"Where else, Matt? At the hospital. We were on our way here when her phone buzzed."

What's going on here? Is Inspector Wohl in a relationship with Matt's sister? They had a fight, and everybody knows about it? That maybe they fight all the time?

"What did Amy give you so far?" Matt asked.

"Why don't we wait and get it from her?" Wohl said.

"In the meantime," Washington said, "wemay have, using the term 'lead' in the broadest possible sense, finally come up with a lead in the Roy Rogers job."

"Jason looked under the rock under the rock again," Coughlin said, approvingly.

"The witness neglected to tell us," Washington went on, "that the miscreant presently known, for lack of more precise information, as 'the fat guy' was wearing a visor-a crownless baseball cap, so to speak-when he sat down at the booth by the kitchen door. He was not wearing it when he left the scene."

"How do we know that?" Olivia asked.

Washington's look showed that he did not like to be interrupted.

And Matt told me to keep my mouth shut!

"While O'Hara's digital image does not show the faces of the malefactors, Mother, it does offer rather sharp silhouettes of their heads. No visor-the witness said he was wearing the visor to the rear, over his neck-was visible fore or aft."

He called me "Mother." Goddamn it, now everybody will.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you, sir," Olivia said.

"Apology noted," Washington went on. "We have such a visor cap among the unclaimed items at the crime scene. On it the lab, on its first look, found a rather poor print of what may be an index finger. Detective Harris has gone to the lab asking them to exert greater effort. I have visited the lab myself with the same purpose. I am going to drop by again on my way home tonight."

"Would I do any good, do you think, Jason?" Coughlin asked.

"With all due respect, Commissioner, I think that would be counterproductive."

"Is that so?" Coughlin challenged.

"On the other hand, if Captain Hollaran could find a moment in his busy schedule to drop by the lab," Washington replied, "that would suggest great interest in their activities by someone in a high position without invoking the terror a visit by you personally would generate."

"Terror?" Coughlin chuckled. "Your call, Jason."

"When, Jason?" Hollaran asked.

"To preserve what little is left of my once-happy marriage, I am going home-via the lab-just as soon as we hear from Doctor Payne," Washington said. "How about immediately after you see the commissioner home?"

"Done," Hollaran said.

"Our finding a useful print is what the wagering fraternity would term a long shot," Washington went on. "But at the moment, it's all we have."