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Madam Sabara, Wohl thought, has obviously heard the gossip vis-à-vis Mrs. Malone. Her tone of voice would freeze a penguin.
“We just ran past Monahan’s house,” Wohl offered. “Things seem well in hand.”
“And Payne?” Sabara asked.
“Officer Payne is dining at the FOP,” Wohl said.
“Can he get around well enough for that?” Lois asked. “I thought he was shot in the leg?”
“He will not be the first young police officer to crawl into the FOP,” Wohl said. “For that matter, I’ve seen some pretty old ones crawl in there.”
“May I get you gentlemen a cocktail?” Nathaniel asked.
“I’ll have Scotch, light on the ice and water, please,” Wohl said.
He saw the hesitancy in Malone’s eyes, and made the quick decision that when Lois, as she certainly would, recounted her encounter with Lieutenant-Jack-Malone-the-Wife-Beater to her peers, it would be better if she could not crow, “Well, at least he wasn’t drinking,” from a position of moral superiority.
“Try the Scotch, Jack,” he said. “David’s been bragging about it.”
“Same for me, then,” Malone said.
Martha came through a door Wohl hadn’t noticed. He approved of what he saw, both sartorially—Martha was wearing a simple black dress with a double string of pearls—and on her face: She was a happy woman.
A wholesome one too, he thought. Dave’s going to have a hard time adjusting to life in the palace, and she’s going to have a hard time being a cop’s wife, but Dave is a decent human being, and I think he’s just what this poor little rich girl really needs.
“Good evening, Inspector,” she said. “I’m so glad you could come.”
“Thank you for asking me,” Wohl said. “And David said, when I told him I didn’t have a lady to bring, to bring somebody. This is somebody, Lieutenant Jack Malone.”
“David’s told me about you, Lieutenant,” Martha said, shaking his hand.
I wonder how much? Wohl thought.
Farnsworth and Helene Stillwell appeared in the room.
“I don’t know him well,” Martha said, quickly and softly to Wohl, “but my father knew her father. And I thought that since you’re working together, having them would be appropriate.”
“Absolutely,” Wohl said.
What she’s doing—good for her—is trying to foster Dave’s career. If she’s as smart as I think she is, I will be working for Dave in a couple of years.
He next had a somewhat less upbeat thought when he took a good look at Helene Stillwell.
That one has had a couple of little nips to give her courage to face the party.
“Small world, Peter, eh?” Stillwell greeted him.
“It looks that way, doesn’t it?”
“You remember my wife, of course?”
“Yes, of course. Nice to see you, Mrs. Stillwell.”
“Oh, please call me Helene.”
Helene Stillwell was wearing a black dress, almost an exact duplicate of Martha’s, and a similar string of pearls.
The necessary introductions were made and drinks offered and comments about the foul weather exchanged.
