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“How nice of the FBI,” Wohl said. “I wonder why they are being so friendly?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.”
“I wouldn’t worry about this, Matt.”
“You know the joke?”
“What joke?”
“The doctor about to perform major surgery looks down at the patient and says, ‘I wouldn’t worry about this,’ and the patient looks up and says, ‘if I wasn’t lying here, I wouldn’t be worried either.’”
“Well, I mean it. It’s a defense tactic, a sleazy one, but that’s all it is.”
“I was worried about it,” Matt said. “But I just got off the telephone with Colonel Mawson. He said he’s going to sue the—what is it?—Coalition for Something?”
“Equitable Law Enforcement.”
“He’s going to sue them for ninety-nine million dollars, the minute the FBI actually shows up here. I think he’s delighted it happened.”
Wohl smiled.
“I had a few too many drinks last night.”
“The Tuborg will fix that,” Matt said.
“I shouldn’t have made that early morning call.”
“Why don’t we both forget it? I just hope, among other things, that the knowledge won’t make it awkward for you with Stillwell. How the hell did you find out, anyhow?”
“Why should it be awkward for me?”
“In Harrisburg, I mean.”
“I’m not going to Harrisburg.”
“That’s not what it said on the radio. The radio said you had been appointed chief investigator to Stillworth, who was just appointed to some bullshit position with the attorney general.”
“The radio is wrong. Never believe what you hear on the radio. For that matter, never believe what you read in the newspaper, especially the Ledger.”
“Really?”
“Dave Pekach proposed to Martha Peebles. Surprising no one at all, she accepted. She had a few of his friends, Mike Sabara and his wife, Jack Malone, and me, plus Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth Stillwell in for a little intimate supper.”
“And that’s where you found out?” Matt asked. “Christ, how?”
“Your paramour—is that the word?”
“For the sake of discussion only, it will do.”
“Your paramour, as I said, was there. She sounded very much like a lady who left erotic messages on your answering machine. Being the clever fellow I am, I put two and two together. And being the horse’s ass I seem to be when I’m drinking, I—I called you.”
“Christ, does anybody else know?”
“I don’t think so. But that wasn’t the smartest thing you ever did, Matt.”
“You ever hear that a stiff prick has no conscience?”
“How deep are you in with her?”
