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Lewis nodded.
“Well, Wohl’s got some people sitting on him—”
“You might well form the habit, Foster, of referring to Inspector Wohl as Inspector Wohl,” Lewis said.
He received a look of tolerance from his son, who went on, “—and I was supposed to be one of them. But then Sergeant Washington went to Inspector Wohl and said he’d rather I stick with Detective Harris, and Inspector Wohl said okay, he’d get somebody else, and Sergeant Carter—”
“Your sarcasm is becoming offensive.”
“—heard about it, apparently. Anyway, he struck up a conversation with me, said he’d heard I was going to be one of the guys—the other two are McFadden and Martinez, the ex-Narcs who ran down the junkie who shot Captain Moffitt?”
He waited to see understanding on his father’s face, and then went on:
“—sitting on Payne, and then that I wasn’t, and how come? And I said, mine not reason why, mine but to do what the Great Black Buddha orders—”
“Is that what you call Jason Washington?” Mrs. Lewis interrupted. “That’s terrible! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
“Think about it, Mom,” Tiny said, unrepentant.
She did, and laughed, but repeated, “That’s terrible.”
“And?” Lieutenant Lewis prompted.
“And Carter said, ‘I don’t suppose it matters, in either case, what you’re doing is baby-sitting a honky.’”
“Which means what?”
“How the hell do I know, Pop?”
“Watch your tone of voice, please.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
“I don’t ordinarily listen to gossip—”
“Watch your father’s nose grow, honey.”
“—but the word is that Harris is having a problem with liquor. Is that what Carter meant about baby-sitting?”
“I guess so. He’s been on a bender. Washington’s taking care of him.”
“How, taking care of him?”
“I keep him out of bars during the day, and at night he’s staying with the Washingtons.”
“Martha must love that,” Mrs. Lewis said.
“Jason and Tony Harris have been close for years,” Lieutenant Foster said, thoughtfully. “Is that how you feel about it, Foster? That you’re baby-sitting a honky?”
“Hey, Pop. Tony Harris has been good to me. And Matt Payne is sort of a friend of mine.”
“‘Sort of a friend’?” Mrs. Lewis asked.
“Well, I haven’t been invited to the Rose Tree Hunt Club yet, but yeah. We’re friends. We get along well. If Harris wasn’t sick, I would have liked to be one of the guys sitting on him.”
“I don’t like the idea of one police officer using the word ‘honky’ to describe another,” Lieutenant Lewis said.
“Pop, I didn’t use it. Carter did.”
