He looked up, from behind the hand shielding his face, and saw Calhoun coming back into the lobby. Calhoun looked quickly around the lobby-a little nervously, Matt thought-and then walked out of the bank.
But I've got you, you son of a bitch!
Said Detective Payne, literally in the middle of the commission of a felony, with monumental hypocritical self-righteousness.
He shrugged, and reached for the telephone.
"Special Operations Investigation, Sergeant Washington. "
"Officer Calhoun, Timothy J., just went into-at 11:54-a safe-deposit box at the First Harrisburg Bank and Trust."
"I am almost as glad to hear that as I am to hear your voice, Matthew. You have the number of the box? That will permit me to have the search warrant all ready for the signature of a judge at the auspicious time."
"Not yet."
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you that banks keep records in minute detail of the time their clients gain access to their boxes?"
"That's right. You don't. But I want to get it-I want the guy from the bank to get it for me. He'll be in this afternoon."
"And you will relay the number to me immediately after you have it?"
"Yes, sure."
"And how are other things going in Harrisburg, Matthew? Mr. Matthews tells me you had dinner in Hershey."
"That's going slowly."
"And carefully, Matthew? I devoutly hope carefully. You've heard the gentleman has added gunsmith to the long list of his other skills and accomplishments?"
"Matthews told me."
"Then let 'caution, caution, toujours caution' be your creed, Matthew."
"That's audacity, not caution. 'L'audace, l'audace, toujours l'audace.' "
"Don't correct me, please. I'm a sergeant, and sergeants are never wrong. And the one thing I absolutely do not want from you is audacity. I will, with more or less bated breath, await your next call."
"Sometime this afternoon," Matt said.
The line went dead.
Matt hung up and looked into the lobby.
Susan, looking uncomfortable, was walking across the lobby toward his office.
He started to get up, then changed his mind. His newly acquired attachй case was in the well of the desk. He planned-while he hoped anyone looking would think he was tying his shoe-to transfer the bank loot from Susan's purse there.
"Ready for lunch?" Susan asked at the door.
"Come into my office, my dear, and I will explain why the bank has to repossess your Porsche."
He waved her into the chair beside the desk. She put her purse on the floor in front of her. Matt bent over, grabbed the purse, and put it into the desk well. Then he opened the attachй case, went into Susan's purse, and moved the money, noticing as he did that some of the stacks of currency were bound with paper strips bearing the names of the banks from which they had been stolen.
These people are really stupid! Those currency wrappers would really tie them to the robberies. Didn't Chenowith think about that? Or did he simply assume that Susan would take care of getting rid of the wrappers and she was too stupid to do it?
He closed the briefcase and ran his finger over the combination lock.
Jesus, if the combination wasn't set at 000, I'm going to have to break the lock to get back into it. That wasn't too smart, Matthew!
He slid Susan's purse back across the floor to her, then straightened up.
"Done," he said and smiled.
She nervously smiled back.
Not too stupid to get rid of the currency wrappers; she's not stupid. Naive. That's the word. Naive.
"Well, let's go," Matt said. "For some reason, I'm starved."
"That's because you didn't eat any breakfast," she said.
"After you left, I did," Matt said. "It was cold, but I needed the strength of good red meat."
He waved her ahead of him out of the office.
When they passed Mr. Chase's office, his "girl"-she was at least forty-smiled approvingly at them.
"I wish I had more time, Peter, to enjoy this," Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin said indicating the Rittenhouse Grill Room's "Today's Luncheon Specials"-a mixed grill-a waiter had just set before them.
That's not a simple expression of regret, Wohl thought, that he is a busy man who had trouble fitting lunch with me at the Rittenhouse Club into his busy schedule. I don't know what the hell he really means, but let's get whatever the hell it is-from half a dozen possibilities-out in the open.
"I belong here now," Peter said.
"I thought that might be the case when you invited me here," Coughlin said.
"Matt's father-maybe I should say Amy's father-called me up and said he would like to put me up for membership. I told him I'd like to think it over, and then I thought it over, and decided, what the hell, why not? It is a good place to have discreet little talks… like now. So I told him, 'Yes, thank you.' "
Coughlin nodded.
"You should have said 'Matt and Amy's father,' " Coughlin said. "The background of that is Matt went to his father about getting you in here. He didn't want it to look as if he had his nose up your rear end. Amy went to her dad, and asked him what about getting you in here like I'm in here, what do they call it?-ex officio, it comes with the job."
"I didn't know that."
"So Brewster Payne came to me and said he'd be delighted to get you in, provided you never found out that Matt asked him, or that it wouldn't get you in trouble with the department. For being too big for your britches, in other words. There's a lot of chief inspectors who don't get to join. As a matter of fact, it's only me and Lowenstein. He said that he's been thinking about it, aside from Matt and Amy, for some time. He said there's a lot of people, including him, who think that somewhere down the pike, you should be police commissioner…"
"Jesus!" Peter blurted.
"… and he wondered if getting you in here, now, would help or hurt that. He also said he didn't want you to get the idea he was doing it to make points with you about Matt. He asked me to think it over and get back to him. So I thought it over, and I got back to him, and told him I thought it was a good idea, and that I felt sure you would come to me, ask me about it, and I would tell you that."
"Chief…"
"It's a good idea, Peter," Coughlin said.
"I didn't want to put you on a spot," Wohl said.
"I gave you the benefit of that doubt. So far I've seen no signs that you're getting too big for your britches. But I think there are-I know there are-some people in the department who do, and will take you being in here as proof of that."
He sliced off a piece of his lamb chop and put it in his mouth.
"Before you tell me what you want to tell me, Peter, did you hear this Chenowith character has got himself a sawed-off fully automatic carbine?"
Wohl nodded. "I heard."
"Presumably Matty has been told?"
"He's been told."
"You think he's going to obey his orders?"
"You read the riot act to him, I read the riot act to him, and Washington read the riot act to him. I've been telling myself we are the three people whose orders he's most likely to obey."
Coughlin nodded.
"He called Washington first thing this morning," Wohl went on, "and told him he had just seen Officer Timothy J. Calhoun of Five Squad going into the safe-deposit box vault of the First Harrisburg Bank and Trust."
"I… I was about to say I don't think Calhoun's about to take a shot at him, but remembering that telephone call to the Widow Kellog, maybe I shouldn't. I'm more concerned about this Chenowith character. He knows he's facing life anyway, so why worry about shooting a cop? And he's crazy."
"So far as I know, Matt is still trying to gain the Reynolds woman's confidence. I think he understands the situation. "
"I hope you're right. What happens next with Calhoun? "