Final justice - W.E.B. Griffin [27]
"I'll wait for you outside, Matty," Coughlin said.
"Yes, sir."
There was a round of handshakes, and in a moment Matt and Wohl were alone in the office.
"Sit down, have a cup of coffee, and call," Wohl said. "You seem a little shaken."
Matt said aloud what he was thinking.
"I thought I was going to pass," he said. "Not number one, but pass. But now that it's happened . . . Sergeant Payne?"
"You'll get used to it, Matt," Wohl said, poured him a cup of coffee, and pointed to the couch, an order for him to sit down.
"Coughlin will wait," he said. "Prepare yourself for another 'what you need is a couple of years in uniform' speech."
"Another? You know about the first?"
Wohl nodded. "And for the record, Matt, I think he's right."
"I don't want to be a uniform sergeant," Matt said.
"You need that experience," Wohl said. "End of my speech."
"Thank you," Matt said, sat down, took out his cellular, and started pushing autodial buttons.
It didn't take long.
Mrs. Elizabeth Newman, the Payne housekeeper, said:
"I thought you knew, Matt, your mother went to Wilmington overnight."
Goddamn it, I did know!
"Thanks, Elizabeth. I did know. I forgot."
On the second call, Mrs. Irene Craig, Executive Secretary to Brewster Cortland Payne, Esq., founding partner of Mawson, Payne, Stockton, McAdoo & Lester, arguably Philadelphia's most prestigious law firm, said, a certain tone of loving exasperation in her voice, "I left two messages on your machine, Matt. Your dad went to Washington on the eight-thirteen this morning, and is going to spend the night with your mother in Wilmington."
And I got both of them, too, goddamn it!
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Craig. Forgive me."
"No, I won't. But I love you anyway."
On the third call, a nasal-voiced female somewhat tartly informed him that Dr. Payne would be teaching all day, and could not be reached unless it was an emergency.
"Thank you very much. Tell Dr. Payne, please, that unless we have her check within seventy-two hours, we're going to have to repossess the television."
"Amy always teaches all day on Monday," Inspector Wohl said.
Inspector Wohl knew more about Dr. Payne's schedule than her brother did. They were close friends, and on-and-off lovers.
Matt looked at him but said nothing.
"Low-ranking police officers should not keep Deputy Commissioners waiting," Wohl said. "You might want to write that down."
"Yes, sir. Thank you very much, sir."
Deputy Commissioner Coughlin was standing on the stairs to the building waiting for him.
"You drive, Matty," he ordered. "Frank had things to do. You can either drop me at the Roundhouse later, or I'll catch a ride somehow."
"Yes, sir. Where are we going?"
"The Roy Rogers at Broad and Snyder," Coughlin said. "You heard about that?"
"Yes, sir. I ran into Tony Harris at the Roundhouse this morning. Did they get the doers?"
"Not yet," Coughlin said. "We will, of course. We should have already. I'd like to know why we haven't."
And en route, I will get the speech.
I really hate to refuse anything he asks of me.
And he's right--and Peter made it clear he agrees with him--I probably would learn a hell of a lot I don't know and should if I went to one of the districts as a uniform sergeant.
But I don't want to be a uniform sergeant, spending my time driving around a district waiting for something to happen, getting involved in domestic disturbances, petty theft, and all that.
I like being a detective. I like working in civilian clothing.
And I didn't come up with that ruling that the high-five guys get their choice of assignment. They offered that prize, and I won it, fair and square, and I want it.
That's what I'll tell him.
When all else fails, tell the truth.
"What did your mother have to say?" Commissioner Coughlin asked.
"My father went to Washington," Matt replied. "He's going to meet Mother in Wilmington, and they'll spend the night. So I'll have to wait until they get back to tell them. And I couldn't get Amy on the phone; she teaches all day on Monday."
"Is he still pushing you to go to law school?"
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