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“Actually, no,” Brewster Payne said, dryly. “When I came down, all that was left of the paper was the real estate ads.”
“Tell us what the goddamn liberals have done this time, Matty,” Amy said.
“You watch your language, too, Doctor,” Patricia Payne said.
Matt got up and walked down the table to Brewster Payne and laid the editorial page on the table before him. He pointed.
“ ‘No Room In Philadelphia For Vigilante Justice’,” Matt quoted. “Just read that garbage!”
Brewster Payne read the editorial, then pushed the paper to his wife.
“Maybe they know something you don’t, Matt,” he said.
“I met that cop yesterday,” Matt said.
“You met him?” Amy said.
“Denny Coughlin took me to meet him,” Matt said. “First he took me to the medical examiner’s and showed me the body, and then he took me to South Philadelphia to meet the cop.”
“Why did he do that?” Amy asked.
“He shares your opinion, Doctor, that I shouldn’t join the police,” Matt said. “He was trying to scare me off.”
“I suppose even a policeman can spot obvious insanity when he sees it,” Amy said.
“Amy!” Patricia Payne said.
Foster Payne got up and stood behind Patricia Payne and read the editorial.
“Whoever wrote this,” he said, “is one careful step the safe side of libel,” he said.
“It’s bullshit,” Matt said. “It’s . . . vicious. I saw that cop. He was damned near in shock. He was so shook up he didn’t even know who Denny Coughlin was. He’s a nice, simple Irish Catholic guy who could no more throw somebody in front of an elevated train than Mom could.”
“But it doesn’t say that, Matthew,” Foster Payne explained patiently. “It doesn’t say he pushed that man onto the tracks. What it says is that that allegation has been raised, and that having been raised, the city has a clear duty to investigate. Historically, police have overreacted when one of their own has been harmed.”
Matthew glared at him; said, with infinite disgust, “Oh, Jesus!” and then looked at Brewster Payne. “Now that Harvard Law has been heard from, Dad, what do you say?”
“I don’t really know enough about what really happened to make a judgment,” Brewster Payne said. “But I think it reasonable to suggest that Arthur J. Nelson, having lost his son the way he did, is not very happy with the police.”
“Daddy, you saw where the police are looking for the Nelson boy’s homosexual lover?” Amy asked. “His Negro homosexual lover?”
“Oh, no!” Patricia Payne said. “How awful!”
“No, I didn’t,” Brewster Payne said. “But if that’s true, that would lend a little weight to my argument, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re not suggesting, Brew, that Mr. Nelson would allow something like that to be published; something untrue, as Matt says it is, simply to ... get back at the police.”
“Welcome to the real world, Mother,” Amy said.
SEVENTEEN
Jason Washington was waiting for them at the medical examiner’s office. His expressive face showed both surprise and, Peter Wohl thought, just a touch of amusement when he saw that Wohl was in uniform.
“Good morning, Miss Dutton,” Washington said. “I’m sorry to have to put you through this.”
“It’s all right,” Louise said.
“They’re installing a closed-circuit television system, to make this sort of identification a little easier on people,” Washington said. “But it’s not working yet.”
