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"You've been drinking with cops?"
"Two cops. My father and Payne."
Pekach chuckled. "What's that, the odd couple?"
"I went to cry on the old man's shoulder, and that led us first to Groverman's Bar and then to my place, and then Payne showed up to cry on my shoulder. I sent the old man home with Sergeant Henderson and made Payne sleep on my couch."
"What was Payne's problem?"
"He let his mouth run away with him, told the Nesbitt kid, the one who was married, the Marine…?"
Pekach nodded.
"… that we know the Detweiler girl was using coke. And he told the bride, and she told her mother, and her mother told H. Richard Detweiler, who is highly pissed that we could suspect his daughter of such a thing, and the last time Payne saw him, he was looking for the mayor to express his outrage."
"Is he going to be trouble?"
"Probably," Wohl said, "but Payne looked so down in the mouth about it that I didn't have the heart to jump all over him. You may find this hard to believe, David, but when I was young, I ran off at the mouth once or twice myself."
"No!" Pekach said in mock shock.
"True." Wohl chuckled. "How was your evening? How was Ristorante Alfredo? You go there?"
"Yeah. I want to talk to you about that," Pekach said, and handed Wohl the matchbook he had been given in the restaurant.
"There's a name inside. Marvin Lanier. Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"I got that from Vincenzo Savarese," Dave replied.
Wohl looked at him with interest in his eyes.
"Not from Savarese himself," Pekach went on carefully, "but from the greaseball, Baltazari, who runs it for him. But he made it plain it had come from Savarese."
"Ricco Baltazari gave you this?" Wohl asked.
There was a rap on the doorjamb.
"Busy?" Captain Mike Sabara asked when he had Wohl's attention.
"Come on in, Mike, I want you to hear this," Wohl said. As Sabara entered the office Wohl tossed the matchbook to him. "Dave got that from Vincenzo Savarese at the Ristorante Alfredo." When Sabara, after examining it, looked at him curiously, Wohl pointed to Pekach.
"Okay," Pekach said. "From the top. Almost as soon as we got in the place, the headwaiter came to the table and said Baltazari would like a word with me. He was sitting at a table across the room with Savarese."
"They knew you were going to be there, didn't they?" Wohl said thoughtfully. "You made a reservation, right?"
"I had a reservation," Pekach said. "So I went to the table, and as soon as I got there, Baltazari left me alone with Savarese. Savarese told me he wanted to thank me for something I did for his granddaughter."
"Huh?" Sabara asked.
"A couple of months ago, when I was still in Narcotics, I was coming home late one night and stopped when I thought I saw a drug bust. Big bust. Four kids caught buying some marijuana. But they ran and there was a chase, and the kid wrecked his old man's car, so they were headed for Central Lockup. I looked at them, felt sorry for the girls, didn't want them to have to go through Central Lockup, and sent them home in a cab."
"And one of the girls wasSavarese's granddaughter?" Sabara asked. "We got any unsolved broken arms, legs, and head assaults on the books? We could probably pin that on Savarese. You don't give grass to his granddaughter unless you've got a death wish."
Wohl chuckled. "He'd beat it. Temporary insanity."
"I didn't know who she was and had forgotten about it until Savarese brought it up."
Pekach nodded and went on. "He gave me some bullshit about my graciousness and understanding-"
