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“Captain Sabara told me he wants Tiny Lewis—you know who I mean?”
“Sure.”
“—on the security detail for Matt Payne. I’d rather he got somebody else.”
“You have something for Lewis to do?”
Washington nodded.
“You got him. You discuss this with Sabara?”
“No.”
“I’m sure he would have let you have Lewis.”
“He would have asked why.”
“You’re losing me.”
“I didn’t know if he knew Tony Harris has been at the bottle.”
“What’s that got to do with Lewis?”
“Harris is sober. If we can keep him that way for the next seventy-two hours, I think we can keep him that way more or less indefinitely. Lewis will be with Harris all day, with orders to call me if Tony even looks at a liquor store.”
“And at night?”
“Martha likes him. We have room at the apartment. He can stay with us for a while.”
“Martha is a saint,” Wohl said.
“No,” Washington said, “it’s just—”
“Yeah,” Wohl interrupted coldly. “Only a saint or a fool can stand a dedicated drunk, and Martha’s not a fool.”
“He’s a good cop, Inspector.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking, with one part of my mind, for the last three or four days. The other part of my mind keeps repeating, ‘He’s a drunk, he’s a drunk, he’s a drunk.’”
“I think it’s under control,” Washington said.
“It better be, Jason.”
“Thanks, Inspector,” Washington said.
“You got something going now? I’d like you to sit in on what Malone has set up for Matt and Monahan. They’re supposed to be waiting for me in my office.”
“I can make time for that,” Washington said.
Wohl led the way to his office. Sabara was standing by his desk, a telephone to his ear.
“He just walked in, Commissioner,” Sabara said. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “This is the third time he called.”
Wohl nodded and took the telephone from him.
“Good morning, Commissioner. Sorry you had to call back.”
The others in the room could hear only Wohl’s end of the conversation:
