Final justice - W.E.B. Griffin [174]
"Sometimes, Lacey . . ."
"Let me see if I can get this in sequence, Colonel," Matt said. "When the chief of police couldn't identify the car by its VIN, he did so by tracing it to the Gambino dealership?"
"A little after ten this morning. Gambino goes to work late. When he finally came in, he said, yeah, he owned a car like that, he owned a dozen cars like that, and he had loaned one to a friend of his to go to Biloxi. Bingo. Mr. Peeper is identified. "
"Okay. I think I've got it straight," Matt said. "Thank you."
"And now are you going to tell me why you're interested in this guy? Interested enough to come all the way down here from Philadelphia, P.A.?"
"Colonel, you've been very helpful, and I'm really grateful. But I would be in deep trouble if it ever got out I told you anything that could possibly jeopardize our investigation."
"Okay. I had twenty-seven years in uniform, and for most of that time I had a top-secret clearance. But okay."
"Would you be satisfied if I told you, Colonel, that from what you've told me, the way this Peeping Tom operates is unusually like the way a man we're looking for in connection with a homicide in Philadelphia operates?"
"Your guy is a pervert too?" Colonel Richards asked.
"Yes, Colonel," Olivia said. "He is."
"If our guy turns out to be your guy, will I have to read about it in the newspaper? Or will you tell me first?"
"You'll hear about it long before it gets into the papers," Matt said. "I promise."
[TWO]
It was ten to seven when Matt pulled the rented Mustang into the Joseph Hall Criminal Justice Center in Daphne.
There was a large parking lot, and it was full. Matt wondered why, at this time of day.
"I'm getting hungry again," he said to Olivia.
"After all you had for lunch? I can't believe it."
"I don't know. I must have done something to work up an appetite."
"I can't imagine what," Olivia said. "When are you going to call Lieutenant Washington?"
"I don't have anything to tell him yet," Matt argued. "And if he had something to say to us, he would have called."
Inside a double glass door was a barren room with shiny tile walls. There were several metal doors and a small window in the walls. Next to the window was a buzzer button and a sign reading, RING BELL FOR SERVICE.
Matt pushed the button. There was a buzzing sound, and a moment later the small door opened inward, and the face of a plump middle-aged woman appeared in the opening. She had what looked like a police uniform on, but Matt saw neither badge nor weapon.
"Can I help you?"
"Good evening," Matt said, and showed her his identification. "I'm Sergeant Payne, this is Detective Lassiter, and we'd like to see Chief Yancey, please."
"Can't right now, he's in court."
She pointed to her left, to a single door in the shiny tile wall.
"Well, then, may I please speak to the supervisor on duty?"
"That'd be Sergeant Paul."
"Do you think I can see Sergeant Paul?"
"You want to see him, or just speak to him?"
"I'd really like to speak to him in person," Matt said.
"He's on patrol. I'll give him a call."
"Thank you very much."
Ninety seconds later, her face appeared again.
"He's still working a DUI. Says it will take him fifteen minutes to get here."
"Thank you. Should we wait here?"
"If you went in the courtroom, you could sit down," she said. "I'll tell him where you are."
"Thank you very much."
Matt opened the single steel door in the tiled wall for Olivia, then followed her in.
They found themselves at the head end of a fairly large courtroom, right by the judge, who, sitting on his bench a few feet above them, looked down at them in what was certainly curiosity and possibly annoyance.
"Go along the wall," Matt quickly ordered Olivia, and he followed her past a railing dividing the bench area--which had tables for the accused and their counsel--from the spectator area, which was furnished with benches not unlike church pews.
Behind the last row of benches was an open