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“Take the car. Just try to keep it under a hundred and ten.”
“Well, okay,” Charley said, trying and failing to give the impression he would drive the Porsche only as a favor to Matt.
Five minutes after Charley left, the intercom was first put to use.
“Let me in, Hay-zus,” Charley’s voice announced mechanically from the speaker in the kitchen. “It’s me.”
Jesus went down and unlocked the door and Charley followed him back up the stairs.
“Wouldn’t start?” Matt asked.
“The front tires are slashed,” McFadden announced. “And they got the hood and doors with a knife or something.”
“Jesus H. Christ!” Matt exploded.
“Did you look at the car when we came here?” Charley asked.
“No. Except to see that it was there. My mother’s car was there. You couldn’t see it clearly.”
“Shit!”
The bell rang.
Martinez went into the kitchen.
“Who’s there?”
“Peter Wohl.”
“Just a minute, Inspector.”
Wohl appeared at the head of the stairs carrying a large paper bag.
“I thought the patient might like a beer,” he said, and then, when he saw the look on Matt’s face, asked, “What’s going on?”
“Those fuckers slashed my tires and did a scratch job on my hood and doors,” Matt said. “Charley just found it that way.”
Wohl walked into the kitchen and started putting the beer into the refrigerator.
“You just found this out, McFadden?”
“Yes, sir. I went down to get the car, and I saw it was down in front.”
“And you didn’t see any damage to it when they brought Matt here?”
“No, sir.”
“We didn’t look,” Matt said.
“I just walked past it myself,” Wohl said, “and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
Wohl came into the living room and picked up the telephone beside Matt. He dialed a number from memory.
“This is Inspector Wohl,” he announced. “Let me speak to the senior supervisor present.”
I wonder who he’s calling? Matt thought.
“Inspector Wohl, Lieutenant. We have a case of vehicular vandalism. The vehicle in question belongs to Officer Payne. I rather doubt we’ll be able to find the vandals, but I want a complete investigation, especially photographs. Even dust the damned car for fingerprints. We may get lucky. It’s in the parking lot under the Delaware Valley Cancer Society Building on Rittenhouse Square. Payne lives in the top-floor apartment. I’ll be here with him.”
