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“Commissioner Czernick happened to run into Mickey O’Hara,” Coughlin said. “And the subject somehow turned to the story Mickey wrote quoting an unnamed senior police officer to the effect that we were looking for a Negro homosexual in connection with the Nelson murder.”
“You set that up, didn’t you, Chief?” Peter said.
“Mickey wouldn’t tell him who the unnamed police officer was, but he did tell him, swearing by all that’s holy, that it wasn’t you.”
“And the commissioner believed him?”
“I think so. I’d stay out of his way for a while, if I were you.”
“I ran into him getting on the elevator in the Roundhouse,” Peter said.
“And?”
“He apologized, I said none was necessary, and then he said he thought I would be happy to be getting back to my regular duties, and that I should give his regards to my dad.”
“Okay,” Coughlin said. “Even better than I would have hoped.”
“I’m off the hook, then?”
“You weren’t listening. I said that if I were you, I’d stay out of his sight for a while.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Since it wasn’t you, who had the big mouth? That wasn’t hard to figure out. DelRaye. So DelRaye has been transferred from Homicide to the Twenty-Second District—in uniform—and he can kiss away, for good, his chances, not that there were many, to make captain. And then, I understand, Hizzoner the Mayor called Mr. Nelson, and told him what had happened, that he had found out who had the big mouth, and taken care of him, and that, proving our dedication to finding the murderers of his son, we sent you to Atlantic City where you did in fact assist the local police in apprehending the men we are sure are the murderers of his son, and couldn’t we be friends again? Whereupon, Mr. Nelson let the mayor have it. I have it on reliable information that they said some very unpleasant things to each other.”
“Oh, Christ!”
“I don’t know what that will do to the mayor in the election, but right now he thinks that Nelson is crazy. I mean, really. He thinks Nelson is out of his mind, which gets you off the hook with him. I mean, it’s you and him against the crazy man at the Ledger.”
Wohl’s eyebrows rose thoughtfully, but he didn’t say anything.
Coughlin looked around for the waitress, found her, and ordered another beer and broiled swordfish.
“Same for me, please,” Wohl said.
“I think I’ll have some steamers,” Lenihan said. “I’m trying to lose a little weight.”
“That little bowl of melted butter will sure help, Tom,” Coughlin said, and then turned to Peter. “Your friend Miss Dutton has left town.”
“I know.”
“That going to bother you, Peter?” Coughlin asked.
“Yeah,” Peter said. “Yeah, it will. How did you know about that?”
Coughlin chuckled, but didn’t answer.
“You’ll get over it,” Coughlin said. “It happens to everybody, and everybody gets over it, sooner or later.”
“How late is later?” Peter asked.
“Find some nice girl, a nurse, for example, and take her out. You’d be surprised how quickly some things pass when there’s a nice girl around.”
Staff Inspector Peter Wohl didn’t reply. But he picked up his beer glass and raised it to Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin. He smiled, and then took a deep sip.
END
