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“Did you know about this, Peter?”
“I’d heard that another attempt to get Mr. Goldblatt to testify would be made, sir.”
“Stop the bullshit, Peter, what do you know about this sudden change of heart?”
“Chief Lowenstein told me that he was going to have a talk with Mr. Goldblatt, sir. And I believe that Mickey O’Hara saw him, Goldblatt, today too.”
“O’Hara? What about O’Hara?”
“He was here earlier, sir.”
“He was here? How is it, Peter, that every sonofabitch and his brother but the police commissioner and me knew where you were?”
“I wasn’t aware you were looking for me, sir.”
“Czernich was looking for you, and he couldn’t find you. Or so he told me.”
“Chiefs Coughlin and Lowenstein knew I was here, sir. And so did Captain Sabara.”
“I don’t like it a goddamn bit the way the three of you treat Czernich like the enemy,” Carlucci said. “It has to stop. You understand me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, what about O’Hara?”
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“Mr. O’Hara led me to believe he was going to ask Mr. Goldblatt and the nephew, Katz, about how they felt about these people going to walk with Monahan dead.”
“You got him to do that?”
“It was Mickey’s idea, sir.”
“Bullshit,” the mayor said.
The telephone rang again, and Matt answered it.
“Is that you, Matty?” Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin asked.
“Yes.”
“Is the mayor there? Lowenstein?”
“Chief Lowenstein is on his way here from the district attorney’s office.”
“Who is that?” the mayor asked suspiciously.
“Chief Coughlin, sir.”
“Give me the phone,” he ordered sharply. Matt handed it over.
“What the hell is this all about, Denny?”
Matt couldn’t hear what Coughlin replied.
“If the both of you aren’t here in ten minutes, we will adjourn this meeting to the commissioner’s office. Capisce?” Carlucci said, and hung up.
He turned to Wohl.
