"I was hoping you'd have fifteen minutes to hear me out."
"This concerns Narcotics? This is Special Operations, we don't deal-"
"Narcotics and the mob," Phil said. "I really think I wouldn't be wasting your time."
"You want to see me now, is that it?"
"I'd like to, yes."
"You know where I am?"
"Frankford and Castor?"
"Right. I'll be expecting you."
"Thank you."
Sabara hung up and then raised his voice: "Tommy!"
Officer O'Mara appeared.
"Just for your general information, Officer O'Mara, that unnamed civilian who called me has a name."
"Yes, sir?"
"His name is Chason," Sabara said. "And he's coming to see me. When he comes in, bring him right in."
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Chason is actually Detective Chason, Retired, Tommy."
"Yes, sir?"
"Do you know where your father was last night, Tommy?"
"Yes, sir. He was at Captain Beidermann's retirement party. They were classmates at the Academy."
"Then your father was also a classmate of Detective Chason, Tommy. And he was also at Captain Beidermann 's retirement policy. Now, don't you think you could have at least picked up a little bit of that information regarding Detective Chason before you told me a nameless civilian was on the phone?"
Officer O'Mara considered that.
"Yes, sir. I suppose I should have."
"Good boy!" Sabara said.
"Thank you, sir," Officer O'Mara said, pleased to have been complimented.
"Thank you for seeing me, Captain," Phil said when Of ficer O'Mara-after telling Chason who his father was, and that he understood they were Academy classmates-had taken him into Sabara's office.
"Any friend of Karl's…" Sabara said. "He and I went to Wheel School together. He was a sergeant…"
He waved Chason into an upholstered chair.
"Now that I'm here," Chason said, "I'm beginning to wonder if this was such a hot idea."
"You said you wanted fifteen minutes. You've got it."
"All I've really got is that a guy I suspect-can't prove-has ties to the mob wants-is willing to pay a thousand dollars for-the names of some narcs, and told me a complicated bullshit story to explain why."
"Who's the guy you think has ties to the mob?"
"Joey Fiorello," Phil said. "He runs a car lot on Essington Avenue-"
"I know who Joey is," Sabara interrupted. "Why does he want the names of the narcs?"
"I don't know, but the story he gave me is bullshit."
"You want to start at the beginning?" Sabara said. "How did you come into contact with Joey Fiorello?"
"Well, I went out on medical disability. I got bored, so I got myself a private investigator's license and put an ad in the yellow pages. About a year ago, Fiorello called me, said he saw the ad."
"Called you to do what?"
"What I guess you could call a background investigation. He said he was thinking of offering a guy a job as a salesman, sales manager, and wanted to know about him. I checked out the first one, he was a solid citizen. A couple of months later, same story. Another solid citizen. And he called me a third time, just a little while ago. This time the guy was a real sleazeball, a stockbroker named Ketcham. "
"What was that name?"
"Ketcham, Ronald R. You know it?"
"Tommy!"
Officer O'Mara put his head in the door.
"See if Sergeant Washington is upstairs, will you? If he is, here, now, Tommy."
"Yes, sir."
"Who's Sergeant Washington?" Phil asked.
"Great big black guy? Used to work Homicide? The Black Buddha?"
"Jason's here, and a sergeant?"
"I don't how he feels about being a sergeant, but he doesn't like being here."
Officer O'Mara reported that Sergeant Washington was not in the building but Detective Harris was.
"Ask him to join us, please, Tommy," Sabara said.
"Tony Harris, too?" Phil asked.
"Equally unhappy at not being in Homicide," Sabara said.
Tony Harris came into the office two minutes later.
"Jesus, look what the tide washed up. The poor man's Sam Spade."
"Fuck you, Tony!" Phil replied.
Sabara was pleased. Obviously, Harris and Chason were friends. That spoke well for Chason, who had spent twenty-six years on the job, but whom Sabara could not remember ever having seen before he walked into his of fice.
"Mr. Chason was just telling me that he was engaged just a few days ago to investigate Mr. Ronald R. Ketcham, " Sabara said.
"No shit?" Tony asked, looking at Phil.
Phil nodded.
"How did you know we're looking for him?"
"I didn't, but I'm not surprised. He's a sleazeball."
"You didn't see the Locate, Do Not Detain?" Sabara asked, just to be sure.
"No, I didn't."
"Who hired you to check Ketcham out?" Tony asked.
"Joey Fiorello," Phil said.
Tony grunted.
"You don't happen to know where he is, do you, Phil?"
"Sorry."
"The other interesting thing Mr. Chason had to say, Tony, was that Fiorello is also interested in learning the names of some other narcotics officers."
"Narcotics Five Squad officers?" Tony asked quietly.
"I don't know about that, but there was a drug bust at the Howard Johnson motel last Thursday…"
"That's interesting," Sabara said.
"Can I ask what's going on?" Phil asked.
"That's a tough one," Sabara began. "Mr. Chason, we're working on something-I can't answer that question. You understand."
"Horseshit," Tony Harris said. "Mike, I've known Phil for twenty years. If there are two honest cops in the whole department, Phil's the other one. The more he knows about what we're trying to do, the more useful he's going to be."
That was a clear case of insubordination. Not to mention using disrespectful language to a superior officer. And, for that matter, Harris was clearly guilty of being on duty needing a shave and a haircut.
But on the other hand…
"The other honest cup? You mean you and him?"
"Well, maybe Washington and Wohl, too," Harris said. "That would make four, but I'm not so sure about Wohl…"
"For the record, Tony, I told you not to tell him…"
"So report me."
"… so I will tell him," Sabara finished. "With the understanding none of this leaves this room, Mr. Chason? "
"Yes, sir."
"Vincenzo Savarese's granddaughter is in the psychiatric ward of University Hospital, in pretty bad condition, " Sabara began. "Somebody called up there and said she had been orally raped."
"I don't get the connection," Phil said.
"Ronald R. Ketcham is the girl's boyfriend," Tony said. "And no one seems to know where he is."
"Ketcham must be a ladies' man," Chason said. "What I heard was he was carrying on hot and heavy with a Main Line-Bala Cynwyd-princess named Longwood."
"Same girl, Phil," Tony Harris said.
"And she's Savarese's granddaughter? And this guy raped her? Don't hold your breath until you find him, Tony," Phil said and then had a chilling thought.
"Oh, shit! And I told Joey Fiorello, who told Savarese…"
"How were you to know?" Tony Harris said. "Phil, let's start at the beginning again. Maybe there's something there."
"About a year ago," Phil began.
Despite his intention to rise at noon, Detective Harry Cronin had woken a little after three P.M. to the sound of cooking utensils banging in the kitchen. He rose from the couch and went into his kitchen.
"Hi, baby!" he said to Mrs. Cronin.
She gave him a sadly contemptuous look but did not reply.