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“Right,” Wohl said. “She was with Captain Moffitt at the time of the shooting,” he added, evenly.
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Wohl said.
“You don’t know?” Coughlin asked, on the edge of sarcasm.
“She said that she was meeting him to get his reaction to people calling the Highway Patrol ‘Carlucci’s Commandos,’ “ Wohl said. “She was very upset, sir, when I got there. She was kneeling over Captain Moffitt, weeping.”
“Where is she?” Coughlin asked.
“She went from the diner to Channel Nine—”
“They didn’t take her to the Roundhouse?” Coughlin interrupted. “Who let her go?”
“The commissioner ... I was a couple of blocks from the Waikiki Diner, and responded to the call, and I was the first supervisor on the scene, and I called him. The commissioner said I should do what had to be done. I didn’t think sending her to the Roundhouse was the thing to do. So I borrowed two uniforms from the Second District, and sent them with her. I told them to stay with her, to see that she got home safely. Homicide will send somebody to talk to her at her apartment.”
Coughlin grunted. “McGovern say anything to her?” he asked.
“I don’t think Mac saw the situation as I did, Chief.”
“Probably just as well,” Coughlin said. “Mac is not too big on tact. Is there anything I should be doing?”
“I don’t think so, sir. The commissioner knows how close you were to Dutch ...”
“Is there ... is this going to develop into something awkward, Peter?”
“I hope not,” Wohl said. “I don’t think so.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Coughlin said. “This is going to be tough enough on Jeannie without it being all over the papers and on the TV that Dutch was fooling around with some bimbo ...”
“I think we can keep that from happening, Chief,” Wohl said; and then surprised himself by adding, “She’s not a bimbo. I like her. And she seems to understand the situation.”
Coughlin looked at him with his eyebrows raised.
“The commissioner asked me to make sure nothing awkward develops, Chief,” Wohl said. “To find out for sure what Captain Moffitt’s relationship with Miss Dutton was ...”
“I went through the academy with Dutch’s brother,” Coughlin interrupted. “Dutch was then, what, sixteen, seventeen, and he was screwing his way through the cheerleaders at Northeast High. He never, as long as I knew him, gave his pecker a rest. I’ve got a damned good idea what his relationship with Miss—whatsername?—was.”
“Dutton, Chief,” Wohl furnished, and then added: “We don’t know that, Chief.”
“You want to give me odds, Peter?” Coughlin asked.
Mrs. Patricia Payne and Matthew Payne walked up to them.
“Patty, do you know Inspector Wohl?” Coughlin asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Patricia Payne said, and offered her hand. “This is my son Matt, Inspector. Dutch’s nephew.”
“I’m very sorry about this, Mrs. Payne,” Wohl said. “Dutch and I were old friends.” He offered his hand to Matt Payne.
“Inspector Wohl, did he say?” Matt asked.
“Staff Inspector Wohl,” Coughlin furnished, understanding Matt’s surprise that Wohl, who didn’t look much older than Matt, held such a high rank. “He’s a very good cop, Matt. He went up very quickly; the brass found out that when they gave him a difficult job, they could count on him to handle it.”
There’s something behind that remark, Patricia Payne thought. I wonder what?
“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Payne, Matt,” Wohl said. “I just regret the circumstances. I’ve got to get back on the job.”
