The Murderers boh-6

by W. E. B Griffin

  “They get all kinds of anonymous-”

  “Goddamn it, Matt,” Carlucci flared, “don’t you start to make excuses.”

  “-calls,” Lowenstein went on, undaunted. “A lot of them from disgruntled people just trying to make trouble.”

  “Yeah, well, this disgruntled person-Peter thinks he’s a retired cop working as hotel security-was so disgruntled that after he called Internal Affairs twice and nothing happened, he wrote me a letter.”

  “And you put your own private detective bureau to work on it,” Lowenstein said bitterly.

  “My own detective bureau?” Carlucci replied icily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lowenstein. But if you have a problem with Commissioner Czernich asking Special Operations to look into something I gave him that neither your detective bureau nor Internal Affairs seem to even have heard about, why don’t you ask for an appointment with the Commissioner and discuss it with him?”

  There was a tense moment when it looked as if Chief Lowenstein, who had locked eyes with the Mayor, was going to reply.

  “Jerry, what’s the relationship between EAU and Special Operations-I guess I mean between Peter and Weisbach-going to be under this reorganization?” Chief Wohl asked.

  Did he ask that to change the subject to something safer? Peter Wohl wondered. Or does he see it as a threat to my career?

  The question clearly distracted Mayor Carlucci. He glanced at Chief Wohl in confusion.

  “Just a minute, Augie,” Carlucci said, turning back to lock eyes with Lowenstein again.

  “Lowenstein and I were talking about the Commissioner,” he went on. “The Commissioner and I were discussing the Overnights this morning. When he can find the time, he brings them by my office, to keep me abreast of things.”

  It was common knowledge that at whatever time in the morning the Mayor of Philadelphia arrived at his office, he could expect to find the Police Commissioner of Philadelphia waiting for him in his outer office. The Police Commissioner’s own day began when the Mayor was through with him.

  “And the Commissioner had an idea. You saw the Overnights this morning, Chief Lowenstein?”

  Lowenstein nodded.

  “Excuse me? I didn’t hear you, Chief.”

  “Yes, sir, I saw the Overnights,” Lowenstein said.

  “The double murder in the Inferno Lounge on Market Street? Did that catch your eye?”

  “I was at the scene.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right. Then you know that Detective Payne was the first police officer on the scene?”

  “I saw that.”

  “Well, the Commissioner saw it too, and he asked me, what did I think of asking Peter, when he could spare him, of course, to send Payne over to Homicide to help Detective Milham on the investigation. Milham has the job, right? Your detective who can’t keep his pecker in his pocket?”

  “Detective Milham has the job,” Lowenstein said, flat-voiced.

  “Yeah, right. Well, the Commissioner said that maybe if Peter sent Payne over there, Payne might learn something about how a Homicide investigation is conducted. And he’s a bright kid, he might learn some other things, too. About other investigations Homicide is running, for example. Things that would be of interest to Peter and Weisbach in carrying out their new responsibilities.”

  “You realize the hell of a spot you’d be putting the kid in, Jerry, sending him into Homicide that way? There’d be a lot of resentment,” Chief Wohl said.

  “Augie, I’m sure the Commissioner has considered that,” the Mayor replied. “So anyway, I told the Commissioner that he’s the Police Commissioner, he can run the Department any way he pleases, do what he wants. If the Commissioner does decide to ask Inspector Wohl to send Detective Payne over there, are you going to have any problem with that, Chief Lowenstein?”

  Lowenstein now had his temper and voice under control.

  “I have no problem, Mr. Mayor, with any decision of Commissioner Czernich,” he said.

  “Good,” the Mayor said. “What do they call that? ‘Cheerful, willing obedience’?” He turned to Chief Wohl. “You were asking, Augie, what Peter’s relationship with the Ethical Affairs Unit is going to be?”

  “That press release wasn’t very clear about that.”

  “I thought it was perfectly clear. Peter and Weisbach have worked together before, and I can’t imagine they’ll have any problems.”

  Oh, shit! Peter thought. What that means is that I’ll be in the worst possible position. I’ll have the responsibility, but no authority.

  “I thought I taught you years ago, Jerry,” Chief Wohl said, as if he had been reading his son’s mind, “that the worst thing you can do to a supervisor is give him responsibility without the necessary authority.”

  The Mayor’s face suggested he didn’t like to be reminded that anyone had ever taught him anything.

  “Maybe you’re right, Augie,” Carlucci said. “Maybe that wasn’t clear. I thought it was. Ethical Affairs Unit is under Special Operations. Weisbach reports directly to me, but he works for Peter. You understand that, Peter?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Carlucci looked around the room.

  “Ah, there’s Angie,” he said. “I better go join her. She doesn’t like it when I stay away too long.”

  He walked away from them.

  “Jesus Christ!” Chief Lowenstein said when he was out of earshot.

  “My sentiments exactly, Chief,” Peter Wohl said.

  “That crap about sending Payne to Homicide was a last-minute inspiration of his,” Lowenstein said.

  “That was to remind you who runs the Department,” Chief Wohl said. “He thought maybe you’d forgotten.”

  “I know who runs the Department,” Lowenstein said.

  “You shouldn’t have argued with him,” Chief Wohl said. “First about Seymour Meyer, and then about Wally Milham. He knows that Meyer is dirty, and thinks Milham is. And he’s never wrong, especially when he’s hot under the collar. You know that, Matt.”

  “Christ,” Lowenstein said.

  “That’s what the whole business of sending Payne to Homicide is all about,” Chief Wohl went on. “He couldn’t think of anything, right then, that would piss you off more, and remind you who runs the Department.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the stocky man in a dinner jacket said with a smile, as he saw two young formally dressed couples coming down the second-floor corridor of the Peebles mansion, “this part of the house has been closed off for the evening.”

  “It’s all right,” Matt Payne replied, “I’m a police officer, checking on the firearms collection.”

  The reply was clearly not expected by the stocky man.

  “I’ll have to see some identification, please,” he said.

  “Certainly,” Matt said, showing his badge. “You’re Wachenhut?”

  Daffy (Mrs. Chadwick T.) Nesbitt IV giggled.

  “Pinkerton,” the stocky man said, stepping out of the way.

  “Thank you,” Matt said, putting his badge holder away and reclaiming the hand of Miss Penelope Detweiler. He led her and the Nesbitts almost to the end of the long corridor, and then opened a door to the right.

  “You could fight a war with the guns in here,” Matt said as he switched on the lights and signaled for Penny to walk in.

  “Jesus,” Chad said. “Look at them!”

  “That was disgusting,” Penny said.

  “What was disgusting, love of my life?” Matt asked. There was a strain in his voice.

  “We’re not supposed to be in here,” Penny said.

  “Look,” he said. “Chad wanted to see the guns. If we had gone to Martha-if we had been able to find Martha in that mob downstairs-and asked her if we could look at the guns, she would have said ‘sure,’ and we would have come up here, and the Pinkerton guy wouldn’t have let us in without written authorization, whereupon I would have showed him my badge. OK?”

  “You think that damned badge makes you something sp
ecial,” Penny said.

  “Penny, sometimes you’re a pain in the ass,” Matt said.

  “Hey!” Daffy said. “Stop it, you two!”

  “The cabinets are locked,” Chad said in disappointment.

  “They lock up the crown jewels of England, too,” Matt said. “Something about them being valuable.”

  “Are these things valuable?” Penny asked.

  “Some of the antiques are really worth money,” Matt said. “Museum stuff.”

  “But what did he do with all of them?” Penny asked.

  “Looked at them,” Matt said. “Just…took pleasure in having them.”

  “What the hell is this?” Chad asked, looking down into a glass-topped, felt-lined display case. “It looks like a sniper rifle, without a scope.”

  Matt went and looked.

  “That one I know,” he said. “The Great White Hunter showed me that one himself. It’s a. 30 caliber-note that I did not say. 30-06-Springfield, Model of 1900. When Roosevelt, the first Roosevelt, came back from Cuba and got himself elected President-”

  “What in the world are you talking about?” Penny demanded.

  “Turn your mouth off automatic, all right? I’m talking to Chad.”

  “Screw you!”

  “Before I was so rudely interrupted, Chad: When Roosevelt made the Ordnance Corps pay Mauser for a license to manufacture bolt actions based on the Spanish 7mm they used in Cuba, the Springfield Arsenal made a trial run. Twenty rifles, I think he said. One of them they gave to Roosevelt, who was then President. That’s it. Christ only knows how much it’s worth. Martha’s father told me it took him three years to talk Roosevelt’s daughter into selling it to him once he found out she had it.”

  “Are we finished here?” Penny asked.

  “Penny!” Daffy said.

  “We are not finished here, love of my life,” Matt said, not at all pleasantly. “You may be, but I have just begun to give Chad the tour.”

  “I want to go back downstairs. I’m bored up here.”

  “And I’m bored down there.”

  “You didn’t seem to be bored when you were sucking up to the Mayor.”

  “Have a nice time downstairs, Penelope,” Matt said. “Don’t let the doorknob hit you in the ass on your way out.”

  Penny extended her right hand, with the center finger in an extended upward position, the others folded, and walked out of the arms room.

  “You’re right, Matthew my boy,” Chadwick Thomas Nesbitt IV said. “On occasion, and this is obviously one of them, our beloved Penny can be a flaming pain in the ass.”

  “I suspect it may be that time of the month,” Matt said.

  Chad laughed.

  “The both of you are disgusting!” Daffy said. “I’m going with Penny.”

  “Mind what Matt said about the doorknob, darling,” Chad said.

  “You bastard!” Mrs. Nesbitt said, and marched out.

  “I am tempted,” Matt said, “to repeat the old saw that there would be a bounty on them, if they didn’t have-”

  “Don’t!” Chad interrupted, laughing. “I’m too tired to have to fight to defend the honor of the mother-to-be of my children.”

  Ten minutes later, as Matt, having successfully gotten through the lock on one of the pistol cabinets, was showing Chad a mint-condition, low-serial-numbered Colt Model 1911 self-loader, Inspector Peter Wohl came into the gun room, trailed by Mrs. C. T. Nesbitt IV and Miss Penelope Detweiler.

  “My God, she called the cops!” Matt said, the wit of which remark getting through only to Mr. Nesbitt.

  “I asked Penny if she knew where you were,” Wohl said. “Got a minute, Matt?”

  “Yes, sir. Sure. You know Chad, don’t you?”

  “Hello, Nesbitt. How are you?”

  “Inspector.”

  “Could you give us a minute?”

  “Certainly,” Chad said. “I’ll be outside.”

  Wohl waited until they had gone and had closed the door behind them.

  “You ever see one of these?” Matt asked, holding the Model 1911 out to Wohl.

  “I just heard about you climbing out on the ledge at the Bellvue, you damned fool,” Wohl said.

  After a just-perceptible hesitation, Matt asked, “Who told you? Harris?”

  “Actually, it was the Mayor. Harris told the Mayor and the Mayor told me.”

  “The Mayor?”

  “The Mayor thinks it makes you a cop with great big balls,” Wohl said. “I wanted to make sure you understand that in my book it makes you a goddamned fool.”

  Matt didn’t reply for a moment.

  “Inspector-”

  “Just when I start to think that maybe you’ve started to grow up, you do something like that. Jesus H. Christ, Matt!”

  “Are you willing to listen to me telling you that ledge was eighteen inches wide?”

  “Be in my office at quarter to seven in the morning,” Wohl said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You and Staff Inspector Mike Weisbach are going to serve a warrant of arrest on Lieutenant Seymour Meyer.”

  “We are? All of a sudden? What happened? Who’s Weisbach?”

  “This is in the nature of a reward,” Wohl said. “I have been ordered by the Mayor to let you in on the arrest. He thinks your goddamned fool stunt on the ledge entitles you, because at two A.M., Paulo Cassandro and Meyer had an angry discussion, during which they mentioned names and specific sums and Meyer’s oral sexual proclivities, all of which were recorded by the microphone you put back in place.”

  “No crap? We got ’em?”

  “If it was up to me, tomorrow morning you’d be back on recovered stolen automobiles.”

  “Ah, come on, Inspector!”

  “If you had fallen off that ledge, Supercop, or if you had been seen up there, all the time and money and effort we spent trying to get Meyer would have gone down the toilet. The conversation we got, or one just as incriminating, would have been repeated in a day or two. Don’t you start patting yourself on the back. You acted like a goddamned fool, not like a detective with enough sense to find his ass with both hands.”

  He locked eyes with Matt until Matt gave in and shrugged his shoulders in chagrin.

  “Quarter to seven, Detective Payne,” Wohl said. “Have a nice night.”

  He walked out of the gun room.

  Matt replaced the Colt Model 1911 in its cabinet, and was trying to put the cabinet lock back in place when Chad, Penny, and Daffy came back in the room.

  “You are forgiven, Penelope,” Matt said. “Out of the goodness of my heart. It will not be necessary for you to grovel in tears at my feet.”

  “What was that business about a ledge at the Bellvue?” Penny asked.

  “Does he often call you a goddamned fool?” Chad inquired.

  “No comment,” Matt said, chuckling, trying desperately but not quite succeeding in making a joke of it.

  “What was that all about?”

  “He wants to see me at quarter to seven in his office, that’s all.”

  “That’s not what it sounded like, buddy.” Chad chuckled.

  “Tomorrow we’re going to play golf!” Penny said. “Tomorrow’s your day off. With Tom and Ginny.”

  “Tomorrow, like the man said, I will be in Wohl’s office at quarter to seven. We’ll just have to make our excuses to Tom and Ginny. Are they here?”

  “We are going to be at Merion at nine,” Penny said flatly.

  “Chad, how do you feel about an early round?” Matt asked.

  “Matt, I mean it!” Penny said.

  “Or what, Penny? This is out of my control. I’m sorry, but I’m a cop.”

  “ You’re sorry? Your precious Inspector Wohl is not the only one who thinks you’re a goddamned fool!” Penny said.

  “Would you like the goddamned fool to take you home, Penny? I’ve had about all of you I can stand for one night.”

  “I’ll get home by myself, thank you very much,” Penny said.
/>
  “Oh, come on, you two,” Daffy said.

  “Come on, hell!” Penny said, and walked out of the gun room.

  “You better go after her, Matt,” Daffy said.

  “Why? To get more of the same crap she’s been giving me all night?”

  “She’s really angry with you, Matt.”

  “Frankly, my dear,” Matt said, in decent mimicry of Clark Gable in Gone With the Wind, “I don’t give a damn.”

  TEN

  Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin looked at Chief Inspector August Wohl (Retired) and then at Inspector Peter Wohl, shrugged, and said, “OK. I’ll call him.”

  He leaned forward on Peter Wohl’s white leather couch for the telephone. He stopped.

  “I don’t have his home phone,” he said.

  “I’ve got it,” Peter Wohl said. “In my bedroom.”

  He pushed himself out of one of the two matching white leather armchairs and walked into his bedroom.

  “I don’t like this, Augie,” Denny Coughlin said.

  “It took place on his watch,” Chief Wohl said. “He was getting the big bucks to make sure things like this didn’t happen.”

  “Big bucks!” Coughlin snorted. “I wonder what’s going to happen to him?”

  “By one o’clock tomorrow afternoon, he will be transferred to Night Command. Unless the Mayor has one of his Italian tantrums again, in which case I don’t know.”

  Peter Wohl came back in his living room with a sheet of paper and handed it to Coughlin.

  “How did I wind up having to do this?” Coughlin asked.

  “Peter’s not senior enough, and the Mayor likes you,” Chief Wohl said.

  “Jesus,” Coughlin said. He ran his finger down the list of private, official, home telephone numbers of the upper hierarchy of the Philadelphia Police Department, found what he was looking for, and dialed the number of Inspector Gregory F. Sawyer, Jr.

  Inspector Sawyer was the Commanding Officer of the Central Police Division, which geographically encompasses Center City Philadelphia south of the City Hall. It supervises the Sixth and Ninth police districts, each of which is commanded by a captain. The Sixth District covers the area between Poplar Street on the north and South Street on the south from Broad Street east to the Delaware River, and the Ninth covers the area west of Broad Street between South and Poplar to the Schuylkill River. Its command is generally regarded as a stepping-stone to higher rank; both Chief Wohl and Chief Coughlin had in the past commanded the Central District.