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“The defense rests,” Brewster Payne said, softly.
“Actually, I was thinking about it before Uncle Dick was killed,” Matt said. “From the time I busted the physical. The first thing I thought was that it was too late to apply for law school.”
“Not necessarily,” Brewster Payne said. “There is always an exception to the rule, Matt.”
“And then, with sudden clarity, I realized that I didn’t want to go to law school,” Matt went on. “Not right away, anyway. Not in the fall. And then I saw the ads in the newspaper, heard them on the radio . . . the police department, if not the Marine Corps, is looking for a few good men.”
“I’ve noticed the advertisements,” Brewster Payne said. “And they aroused my curiosity to the point where I asked about them. The reason they are actively recruiting people is that the salary is quite low—”
“Thanks to you,” Matt said, “that really isn’t a problem for me.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Payne said.
“I went out and got drunk with a cop last night.”
“After you left the Moffitts’, you mean? I thought maybe you would come home.”
“I wanted to be alone, so I went to the bar in the Hotel Adelphia. It’s a great place to be alone.”
“And there you met the policeman? And he talked you into the police?”
“No. I’d met him that afternoon before. At Uncle Dick’s house. Mr. Coughlin introduced us. Staff Inspector Wohl. He was wounded, too. He was a friend of Uncle Dick’s, and he was there ... at the Waikiki Diner. I think he was probably in the Adelphia bar to be alone, too. I spoke to him at the bar.”
“Wohl?” Brewster Payne parroted.
“Peter Wohl,” Matt said. “You know him?”
“I think I’ve heard the colonel mention him,” Payne said. “Younger man? The word the colonel used was ‘polished.’ “
“He would fit in with your bright young men,” Matt said. “If that’s what you mean.”
“I don’t know how you manage to make ‘bright young men’ sound like a pejorative,” Brewster Payne said, “but you do.”
“I know why you like them,” Matt said. “Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery. If you started chewing tobacco this morning, they’d all be chawin’ ‘n’ spitting by noon.”
Payne chuckled. “Is it that bad?”
“Yes, it is,” Matt said.
“You said you drank with Inspector Wohl?”
“Yeah. He’s a very nice guy.”
“And you discussed your joining the police department?”
“Briefly,” Matt said. “I am sure I gave
him the impression I was drunk, or stupid, or burning with a childish desire to avenge Uncle Dutch. Or all of the above.”
“But you’re still thinking about it?” Payne asked, and then went on without waiting for a reply. “It would be a very important decision, Matt. Deserving of a good deal of careful thought. Pluses and minuses. Long-term ramifications ...”
He stopped when he saw the look on Matt’s face.
“I have joined the police department,” Matt said. “Fait accompli, or nearly so.”
“How did you manage to do that, since last night? You can’t just walk in and join, can you? Or can you?”
“I got to bed about two last night,” Matt said. “And at half past five this morning, I was wide awake. So I went for a long walk. At five minutes after eight, I found myself downtown, in front of Wanamaker’s. And I was hungry. There’s a place in Suburban Station that serves absolutely awful hot dogs and really terrible ‘orange drink’ twenty-four hours a day. Just what I had to have, so I cut through City Hall, and that was my undoing.”
