Final justice - W.E.B. Griffin [163]
"I really don't know right now, Phil, where I'll be at eleven. You have to understand . . ."
"You wouldn't be trying to give me--and all the good folks out there listening in Phil's Philly--the runaround, would you, Mr. Mayor?"
"Now, Phil, why would you say something like that?"
"Because that's what it sounds like, Mr. Mayor."
You sonofabitch, you got me!
"You call my office at eleven, Phil, and I'll be happy to take your call."
"Cross your heart and hope to die?"
"I give you my word, Phil."
"I asked you to cross your heart and hope to die," Phil said, paused, and added, "Just a little joke. I'll take you at your word, Mr. Mayor, of course. And we'll look forward to talking to you at eleven."
"I look forward to it myself, Phil. It's always a pleasure."
"Have a nice breakfast, Mr. Mayor," Mr. Donaldson said.
He broke the connection and leaned into his microphone.
"Well, you heard it folks, the mayor gave his word that he'd take my call--which means he'll take our call--at eleven. That should be an interesting conversation. Make sure you tell all your friends to be tuned in. And now a word from the friendly folks at Dick Golden Ford on the Baltimore Pike. Be right back afterward."
He turned off his microphone.
"Gotcha, you bastard!" he said.
[TWO]
Lieutenant Jason Washington was in the lieutenant's office in Homicide when Matt and Olivia walked in. Matt was surprised; it was quarter to eight, and Washington usually showed up at ten or later.
As Matt walked toward the lieutenant's office, Washington looked up, saw them, and motioned for them to come in.
"Good morning, Detective Lassiter," he said.
"Good morning, sir," Olivia said.
"Is there some reason you chose to answer neither your radio nor your cellular, Matthew? Or you, Detective, your cellular?" Washington asked.
"I turned the radio off when I was ferrying Colt around," Matt said, "or he would have wanted to respond to anything that came over it. And obviously, I didn't turn it back on this morning." He took his cellular from his pocket. "And the battery is dead in this."
"And you, Detective?"
Olivia had her cellular in her hand.
"I guess I didn't turn it on this morning, sir," she said.
"Need I say that I would be both disappointed and more than a little annoyed if this ever--the operative word is 'ever'--happened again?"
"No, sir," they said, almost in unison.
"Then the incident is closed," Washington said.
"Have you seen the Bulletin this morning, Lieutenant?" Matt asked.
"With your image adorning page one? Indeed, I have. And so, I daresay, has most of the population of Philadelphia."
"I wasn't talking about my picture," Matt said. "I meant this."
He laid Section Three of the Bulletin, "Living Today," open to page four, on the desk.
"Then you stand out like a cork bobbing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, for everyone else in Philadelphia is talking of nothing else. . . . What am I being shown?"
"Look at the guy on the ground in the picture," Matt said.
Washington looked.
"You can doubtless imagine the odds against that fellow being our critter," he said after a moment. "But if you wish to turn over the stone under the stone, why don't you give them a call?"
"I already have."
Washington looked at him with interest.
"They wouldn't tell me whether or not this guy had a knife," Matt said. "Or whether he was just peeping in windows or trying to break in, or whether the window belonged to a young woman. . . ."
"And you have concluded, obviously, that this proves he did indeed have a knife, with which he was trying to break into the apartment of a young woman?"
"I think the possibility exists," Matt said, a little lamely.
One of the telephones on the desk rang, and Washington had it to his ear before it could ring again.
"Homicide, Lieutenant Washington," he said.
And a moment later,
"Yes, sir."
And a moment later,
"Yes, sir. They are both here with me."
And a final moment later,
"Yes, sir. We're on our way."
He put the handset in its cradle.
"Detective Lassiter,