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“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on around here?”
“I’d prefer to wait until Chief Lowenstein is here, sir.”
“In numbers, there is strength, huh?” Carlucci said unpleasantly. “Where the hell is that coffee, Al?”
“It’s almost through, sir,” Sergeant D’Angelo said.
“Let me ask you something else, Peter,” Carlucci said. “Are you conducting an investigation of Bob Holland?”
“No, sir.”
“Strange. The FBI thinks you are. Davis called Czernich and asked him. Czernich told him he would ask you about it. You better have a goddamn good answer when he does. Auto theft is none of your business.
“That sonofabitch!” Charley McFadden said.
The mayor looked at him. McFadden, realizing that his mouth had run away with him, looked stricken.
“What sonofabitch is that, son?” Carlucci asked softly, menacingly. “The police commissioner or Mr. Davis of the FBI?”
“There was an FBI agent here last night, Mr. Mayor,” Matt said. “We took—”
“What was he doing here? Friend of yours, what?”
“I met him yesterday,” Matt said. “He came to confirm rumors that I’m going to be investigated by the Justice Department.”
“For what?”
“For shooting Stevens.”
“Did you know about this, Peter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How come I don’t?”
“I sent a memorandum to Commissioner Czernich, sir.”
Carlucci turned back to Matt Payne.
“What about the FBI agent who was here last night?”
“We went to the FOP,” Matt said. “During the conversation, when he said that he was working interstate auto theft, I asked him some questions about how that works.”
“Me too. I did too,” Charley McFadden said.
“What Officer McFadden is suggesting is that Matthews, the FBI guy, reported our interest to his superiors,” Matt explained.
“‘Our interest’?” Carlucci snapped. “Just what is ‘our interest’?”
“We think Mr. Holland is involved in at least the sale of stolen automobiles,” Matt said.
“‘We’? Who’s ‘we’?”
“Officer McFadden and myself,” Matt said.
“On one hand, coming from two rookies with an exaggerated opinion of themselves, that’s probably bullshit,” the mayor said. “But on the other hand, the FBI wouldn’t be trying to tell us to butt out unless they were onto something. Peter, you sure you don’t know anything about this?”
The door buzzer went off, sparing Wohl having to reply.
