"Nowhere."
"Then where are we going for dinner?"
"Nowhere."
"I thought maybe we could drive out to Hershey and have dinner in the Hotel Hershey."
"No."
"Well, any place you like is fine with me. What time shall I pick you up?"
"You don't know how to take 'no' for an answer, do you?"
"We have a deal, fair maiden."
"I don't know what you've got in your mind, Matt-"
"Really? No feminine intuition at all? I find that difficult to believe."
"Damn you!"
"I seem to have offended you. Since-my intentions being so pure and noble-I can't imagine how, what I am obviously going to have to do is call your mommy, tell her how sorry I am, and ask her if she can't try to fix things up between us."
There was a chuckle. Not a very pleasant chuckle, more one ringing of resignation.
"And you really would, wouldn't you, you son of a bitch?"
"You can take that to the bank. The First Harrisburg Bank and Trust."
"I'll pick you up in front of the Penn-Harris at half past six. We'll have a quick and early dinner."
"To start," Matt said. "You won't have any trouble spotting me. I'll be the handsome devil with the look of joyous anticipation in his eyes."
"Oh, God," Susan said, and hung up.
Matt put the phone in its cradle and only then noticed a mousy-looking female in her thirties standing in the of fice door. She held a deep metal tray full of strange-looking forms-bank records, probably, he decided-in both hands.
"Mr. Payne?" she asked.
Matt nodded. She came into the office and, with a grunt, laid the gray metal tray on the glass-topped desk.
"These are the safe-deposit box access records," she said. "When you're through with them, would you please tell Dolores, and I'll come and get them."
"Thank you," Matt said, and smiled at her.
He ran his fingers down the forms. Each form was metal-topped, and designed to hang from the reinforced side of the tray. Each form was for one box, and listed not only the names and addresses and social security numbers of every person authorized access to that particular box, but at what time, on what date, someone had the box, and for how long.
What I thought Chase was going to get for me was a list of names of box holders matching-at least the last name-the names on my list. This tray obviously holds a card for every safe-deposit box in the bank.
Is giving me more information than I even asked for, crossing over the confidentiality line, the way they always "cooperate" with the police in a situation like this?
Or only when they trust the cop doing the looking?
Or because of my father's relationship with Chase?
What difference does it make? Never stick your finger in a gift horse's mouth.
He had finger-walked his way through perhaps half a dozen of the records when the skinny woman came back, this time carrying a tray in which another kind of bank records lay flat.
"These are the accounts in which you may be interested, Mr. Payne," the skinny woman said. "Through 'D.' The sooner I can have them back, the better. So if you would just ask Dolores to Xerox the ones you're interested in, then you could send them back. I'd really like it better not to bring you 'E' through 'H' until you're through with these. Would that be all right?"
"That would be fine," Matt said. "Thank you very much."
Matt picked up the top record in the tray. It was a complete record, going back four years, of the banking activity-the dates and times of deposits; withdrawals; interest payments; and service charges-in a savings account of an individual whose last name-only-matched one of the names on the list Matt had prepared in the Personnel Of fice in the Roundhouse.
The form (actually three forms, stapled together) under the first was a record of the same activity in the individual 's checking account.
If I get one of these-two of these-for every account holder in this bank with the same last name as the names on the list I gave Mr. Chase, I'll be in Harrisburg for a month.
Which, considering the rockets that went off when I kissed Susie last night, might not be entirely a bad thing.
For Christ's sake! What the hell's the matter with you? Get that stupid idea out of your mind, once and for all!
He reached for the telephone, dialed the operator, and placed a collect call to Sergeant Jason Washington.
"Matthew, my boy! How are things in the capital of our great Commonwealth?"
"Well, I am into the bank."
"So, apparently, is the opposing side," Washington replied.
"Excuse me?"
"You first. You seemed surprised."
"The… level of cooperation is much more than I expected. "
"Perhaps it's your charm," Washington said. "I understand you were to take someone to dinner last night. Did that happen?"
"Yeah."
"Was the evening fruitful? In a professional sense?"
Was that a dig? Or was he just being clever?
"I think so."
"But nothing specific to report?"
"No."
"Are you somewhere where you can conveniently and confidentially telephone? There's someone else you really should talk to."
"Wohl?"
"Matthews."
"I'm in a glass-walled office off the lobby of the Harrisburg Bank and Trust Company," Matt said. "It's private enough, but I would have to call him collect."
"Give me the number-I should have thought of that anyway-and I'll suggest he call you. The unattractive lady bandito has apparently struck again."
"Really? Where?"
"I have only the most rudimentary facts. But I suspect Jack Matthews is happily anticipating providing you with every last detail."
Matt read the telephone number and the extension off the phone to Washington.
"I am sure that you will be hearing from Matthews within minutes," Washington said. "And there is one more thing, Matt."
"What?"
"Peter Wohl is concerned that you might do something foolish. So am I. Allow Mr. Matthews's associates to deal with this beyond the limitations of what you were ordered to do."
"Okay."
"If you were to disobey your orders, and Wohl, so to speak, threw the book at you, he would have my complete support."
"You have made your point."
"I devoutly hope so," Washington said, and hung up.
Three minutes later, Dolores, after first knocking, put her head into the door of the office.
"There is a Mr. Rogers of the Philadelphia Savings Fund Society on line three for you, Mr. Payne. Do you want to take it?"
"Thank you," Matt said, and picked up the telephone. "Payne."
"Can you talk?"
"Didn't you just hear me talking?"
"Christ, Matt!"
"What can I do for you, Mr. Rogers? Don't tell me I'm overdrawn again?"
He could hear Matthews sigh.
"The Farmers and Merchants Bank of Clinton, New Jersey, was held up yesterday morning. We just heard about it, and I just talked to our Newark office-they have jurisdiction. Same modus operandi as the Riegelsville job. Same description of the perpetrator. This time, the haul was nearly sixty thousand dollars."
"Hairy legs and all?"
"That wasn't mentioned. But the unattractive, heavy makeup, earrings, et cetera, et cetera. For reasons I can't understand, Newark sent the surveillance-camera film to Washington-to the Anti-Terrorist Group; I suppose they issued a 'Report Similar Events' notice-before they processed it. I called Special Agent Jernigan, and he's promised to send me whatever the camera shows by wire as soon as it's processed. I'll be very surprised if it turns out to be someone else."
"Sawed-off shotgun, too?"
"No. That's the one thing that doesn't fit the modus. This time it was a sawed-off carbine."
"Explain that to me, please?"
"One of the witnesses-the bank guard-got a good look at it. The stock had been cut off behind the pistol grip, and then rounded with a file. And the barrel was cut off back to where the forearm whatchamacallit holds it. You understand?"