Final justice - W.E.B. Griffin [58]
"Like I said, Eileen, he's a very good cop."
"Tell me about him and women. I understand he's quite a swordsman."
"Who told you that?" Coughlin asked. "Eileen, you've seen him. He's a little guy. Looks like a weasel. Women do the opposite of swoon when they see him. I've never even seen him with a woman. What's this all about?"
"Thanks, Denny."
Brewster Courtland Payne, Esq., gave Miss Martha Peebles in marriage to Captain David Pekach three weeks later. The Hon. Eileen McNamara Solomon was the matron of honor.
"Eileen, I realize this is short notice, but I'd really like you and Ben to come for supper tonight," Martha Peebles Pekach said now.
"What's up?"
"Brewster Payne's son--Matt?--just made sergeant, and Precious and I are having a little party for him."
"That kid made sergeant?" Eileen asked, surprised. Very privately, she thought of Detective Matt Payne as the Wyatt Earp--or maybe the Stan Colt--of the Main Line. Most cops never draw their weapons in twenty years of service. Brewster Payne's kid had already shot two critters and been involved in an O.K. Corral shoot-out in Bucks County and he hadn't been on the job much over five years.
And now he's a sergeant?
"He was number one on The List. The mayor promoted him this morning."
"I'll have to check with Ben," Eileen said.
"With or without him, Eileen, please? Sixish."
[THREE]
Lieutenant Jason Washington, who was sitting in his glass-walled office, his feet resting on the open lower drawer of his desk, deep in thought, became aware that Detective Kenneth J. Summers, a portly forty-year-old, who was on the desk, was waving at him.
He raised his eyebrows to suggest that Summers now had his attention. Summers pointed to the telephone. Washington nodded and reached for it.
"Homicide, Lieutenant Washington."
"Dave Pekach, Jason."
"Dare I to hope that you are calling to tell me two critters have flagged down a Highway car and, overwhelmed by remorse, are asking how they can go about confessing to the Roy Rogers job?"
"You don't have them yet?" Pekach asked, surprised.
"You know where we are, David?" Washington said. "In the absence of a better idea, I have four people running down a somewhat esoteric idea proposed by the newest member of our happy little family."
"Matt?"
"Indeed. Sergeant Matthew Payne. He wondered--causing Tony Harris some chagrins--and between thee and me, me too--for not having had the same thought first--why Doer Number One took the trouble to put his weapon under Kenny Charlton's bulletproof vest instead of simply shooting him in the head."
"Yeah. I wonder why."
"There may be no reason, but for the moment, we are considering the possibility that he knew Kenny, felt some personal animosity toward him, and wanted to make sure the wound was fatal."
"That's possible. That sounds like a deliberate act, not like something that just happened."
"So we are now compiling a photo album of every young African-American critter Kenny ever arrested. And since Kenny spent many years on the street, there is a large number of such critters."
"It may work, Jason," Pekach said, thoughtfully.
"And I have Tony starting all over again from Step One," Washington said.
"Actually, I was calling about Matt," Pekach said. "My Martha wants to wash down his sergeant's badge. . . ."
"Somehow I don't think Your Martha used that phrase."
"She's having a few people in, is the way she put it. You and Your Martha, of course, and Tony. And My Martha asked me to ask you if it would be a good idea to ask the other guys in Homicide."
"What and where are the festivities?"
"Tonight, here. Six, six-thirty. If it stays nice, outside. Like the last one. Which, come to think of it, Lieutenant, was to wash down your new badge."
"I was about to say, David, that tonight is not the best of times. But then I remembered the profound philosophical observation that all work, et cetera, et cetera. Tony will be there, I'll see to that, and so will My Martha and I. And I will put a card on the bulletin board advising everyone that edibles