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really sorry for you."
"Thank you for coming."
"I'm Joe's brother."
"I'm really sorry this happened."
"Thank you for coming."
"Bob," Mr. Magnella said to Mr. McCarthy, "go in the room on the other side and fix yourself and Officer McFadden a drink."
"Thank you, Al," Mr. McCarthy said. "I might just do that."
Margaret put her hand on Charley's arm, and they followed Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy across the room to a smaller room, where a knot of men were gathered around a table on which sat a dozen bottles of whiskey.
Margaret opened her purse and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.
"Seagram's all right for you, Charley?" Mr. McCarthy asked.
"Fine," Charley said.
As he put the glass to his mouth the soft murmur of voices died out. Curious, he turned to see what was going on.
Mrs. Magnella had entered the room. She looked like she was headed right for him.
She was. Her son and husband were on her heels, looking worried.
"I know who you are," Mrs. Magnella said to Charley McFadden. "I seen your picture in the papers. You're the cop who caught the junkie and pushed him under the subway, right?"
That wasn't what happened. I was chasing the son of a bitch and he fell!
"Uh!" Charley said.
"I want you to find the people who did this to my Joseph and push them under the subway!"
"Mama," Officer Magnella's brother said. "Come on, Mama!"
"I want them dead! I want them dead!"
"Come on, Mama! Pop, where's Father Loretto?"
"I'm here," a silver-haired priest said. "Elena, what's the matter?"
"I want them dead! I want them dead!"
"It's going to be all right, Elena," the priest said. "Come with me, we'll talk."
"I'm sorry about this," Officer Magnella's brother said to Officer McFadden as the priest led Officer Magnella's mother away.
"It's all right, don't worry about it," Charley said.
Margaret McCarthy looked at Charley McFadden and saw that it wasn' t all right. Without thinking what she was doing, she put her hand out to his face, and when he looked at her, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
EIGHTEEN
Officer Matthew Payne was feeling a little sorry for himself. He had been given an impossible task-how the hell was he supposed to find one man in a city the size of Philadelphia?- and Peter Wohl had made it plain that he expected him to accomplish it: No excuses, please. Just do it.
When he had tried looking for Jason Washington in all the places he could think, starting with his home, and then going to the Roundhouse and over to the parking garage and even to Hahneman Hospital, he went back to the Roundhouse, on the admittedly somewhat flimsy reasoning that Washington had told him to meet him in Homicide in the Roundhouse before he left word on the answering machine not to meet him there.
