“This was not your fault, Matt. She had a chemical addiction-”
“She was a junkie.”
“-which she was unable to manage.”
“And I wasn’t a hell of a lot of help, was I?”
“What happened is not your fault, Matt.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“The best thing you can do-an emotional trauma like this is exhausting-is to get a good night’s sleep.”
“And things will seem better in the morning, right?”
“I’ve got something to give you…”
“No, thank you.”
“…a mild sedative.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not climbing the walls, or hysterical, or…”
“It’s inside, Matt, it’s a pain. It will have to come out. The better shape you’re in when it does, the better. That’s why you need to sleep.”
“You are your father’s daughter, aren’t you? You never know when to take no for an answer.”
“OK. But people, even tough guys like you, have been known to change their minds. I’ll leave the pills.”
“Take two and call me in the morning?” Matt asked, now smiling.
“If you take two, you won’t be able to use a telephone in the morning. One, Matt, with water, preferably not on an empty stomach.”
“My stomach is full of Chinese.”
“I’ll be at home until half past seven or so,” Amy said. “If you want to talk.”
“Amy, believe it or not, I’m touched by your concern,” Matt said. “But all I need is to finish this”-he held up his whiskey glass-“and get in bed.”
And then he surprised her by putting his arms around her.
“Who holds your hand when you need it, Doc?” he asked softly. “Don’t you ever get it up to here with other people’s problems?”
“Yeah,” she said, surprised at her emotional reaction. “Just between thee, me, and the lamp pole, I do. But not with your problems, Matt. You’re my little brother.”
“Chronologically speaking only, of course.”
She hugged him, and then broke away.
“Go to bed,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She went down the narrow flight of stairs and turned at the bottom and looked up.
“Try to stay on the black stuff between parked cars, Amy,” Matt called down to her with a wave.
“Wiseass,” she called back, and closed the door to the stairs. She had just enough time to be surprised to find the landing empty when she heard the whine of the elevator.
That has to be Peter, she thought. If he said he would wait for me, he will.
And then she just had time to recognize the depth of her original disappointment when the elevator door opened. It was not Peter, it was Jason Washington.
Where the hell is Peter? Did he decide, “Screw her, I’m going home”?
“Good evening, Doctor,” Washington said in his sonorous voice. “Or, more accurately, good morning.”
“Mr. Washington.”
“Do I correctly surmise from the look of disapproval on your face that now is not a good time to call on Matt?”
“No. As a matter of fact,” Amy said with a nervous laugh-Jason Washington was a formidable male-“I think you’d be good for him. He said he was going to bed, but I don’t believe him.”
“I couldn’t get here earlier,” he said. “Inspector Wohl-he’s with the security officer in the lobby-thought perhaps you…”
Peter did wait. Why are you so damned pleased?
“I think you’re very kind to come at this hour, and that Matt will be delighted to see you.”
“Thank you,” Washington said, and waved her onto the elevator.
Peter did not smile when he saw her.
“Thank you for waiting,” she said. “I really wanted to talk to you.”
“So you said.”
“Could we go somewhere for coffee? Or a drink?”
They locked eyes for a moment.
“Most of the places I’d take you to around here are closed.”
“Would you have time to stop by my apartment?”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s an invitation to breakfast.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” she snapped. “I want to talk about Matt. Nothing else.”
“We tried the other, right, and it didn’t work?”
“It didn’t seem to, did it?”
“I’ll meet you in your lobby,” Peter said. “I hate to follow people.”
“Thank you,” she said, and got back on the elevator. By the time she turned around, he was already out the door.
“How are you holding up, Matthew?” Jason Washington asked as he reached the top of the steep flight of stairs.
“Most often by leaning against the wall,” Matt replied.
“He said, masking his pain with humor. I am your friend, Matthew. Answer the question.”
“You know the old joke: ‘How is your wife?’ and the reply, ‘Compared to what?’ I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”
“Try a one-word reply.”
“Empty,” Matt said after a moment.
Washington grunted.
“I would suggest that is a normal reaction,” he said. “I would have been here earlier, Matthew, but I was about the King’s business, protecting our fair city from assorted mountebanks, scoundrels, and scalawags.”
Matt chuckled. “Thanks for coming.”
“I’m very sorry about Penny, Matt,” Washington said.
“Thank you.”
“It was originally my intention, and that of my fair lady, to come to add our voices to the chorus of those telling you that you are in no way responsible for what happened.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean that. I am not just saying it.”
“I know,” Matt said.
“My lesser half-who is a bitch on wheels when awakened from her slumber in the wee hours-is going to be mightily piqued when I finally show up at home and tell her I have been here alone.”
Matt chuckled.
“Considering that sacrifice I have made-you have seen the lady in a state of pique and should be sympathetic-do you think you could find it in your heart to offer me one of whatever it is you’re drinking?”
“Sorry,” Matt said. “This is Irish. Is that all right?”
“Gaelic chauvinist’s scotch will do nicely. Thank you,” Washington said.
“You’ve been on the job?” Matt asked as he walked toward the kitchen.
“Indeed.”
“I thought you’d be taking some time off, going to the Shore or something.”
“There have been several interesting developments,” Washington said. “What opinion did you form of Staff Inspector Weisbach?”
“I liked him. He’s smart as hell.”
“That’s good, because he’s our new boss.”
“Really?”
“Would you be interested in his opinion of you?”
“Yeah.”
“He said you need to be held on a tight leash.”
“Is that what he said?”
“That’s what he said.”
“You said ‘our new boss.’ Are we going to be involved in this Ethical Affairs business?”
“I think we are the Ethical Affairs Unit.”
“That sounds like Internal Affairs by another name.”
Matt walked back into his living room and handed Washington the drink.
“Not precisely. Wohl and Weisbach have elected to lend a broad interpretation to their mandate.”
“Wohl was here.”
“I saw him in the lobby.”
“He didn’t say anything to me about…anything.”
“Under the circumstances…”
“He did mention half a dozen times that what I have to do is put…what happened to Penny…behind me, and get on with my life.”
“And so you should. Anyway, Armando C. Giacomo had Wohl and Weisbach as his guests for lunch at the Rittenhouse Club.”
“He’s representing Cassandro?”
“Uh-huh. And Mr. Cassandro really does not wish to go to jail. Mr. Giacomo proposed a deaclass="underline" Cassandro testifies against Cazerra, Meyer, and company, in exchange for immunity from prosecution.”
“They’re not going to deal, are they? They don’t need his testimony. We have the bastard cold.”
“What Peter and Weisbach find interesting is why the deal was proposed. Giacomo can, if he can’t get him off completely, delay his trial for forever and a day, and then keep him from actually going to jail, with one appeal or another, for another couple of years. So, what, in other words, is going on?”