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“No. The way it works is that assignments of newly promoted people are made by Personnel. They evaluate the individual in terms of vacancies, his future career, and the good of the Department. After a good deal of thought and paper-pushing, they reach a decision, and the promotee—is that right, ‘promotee’?”
“Why not?” Matt chuckled.
“—the promotee gets his new assignment. Providing of course, that certain members of the hierarchy, Denny Coughlin, for example, and Matt Lowenstein, people like that, and, of course, our own beloved commander, P. Wohl, agree. If they don’t like the promotee’s assignment, they somehow manage to get it changed to one they do like. The operative words are ‘for the good of the Department.’”
“I think I understand,” Matt said.
There was the sound of a key in the door. Jason Washington started toward it, but it opened before he could reach it.
It was a very tall, sharply featured woman, her hair drawn tight against an angular skull.
She looks, Matt thought, like one of the Egyptian bas-reliefs in the museum.
Martha (Mrs. Jason) Washington, wearing a flowing pale green dress, stepped into the apartment. Behind her was the doorman, carrying a very large framed picture, wrapped in kraft paper.
“Take that from him, please,” she ordered.
Washington put his hand in his pocket, gave the doorman a couple of dollar bills, and relieved him of the picture.
“Hello, Matt,” Martha Washington said.
“Good evening,
” Matt said.
“What’s this?” Jason asked.
“I thought you could tell from the shape,” she said. “It’s a bathtub.”
Jason Washington tore the kraft paper away. It was a turn-of-the-century oil painting of a voluptuous nude, reclining on her side.
“Finally, some art I can understand and appreciate,” Washington said.
“Inspector Wohl’s got one almost just like that,” Matt said.
“That figures,” Martha said. “That’s to sell, Jason, not for you to ogle; don’t get attached to it. I found it in one of those terribly chic places off South Street. I think he needed the money to pay the rent. I bought it right, and I think I know just where to get rid of it.”
“Well, I like it,” Matt said. “How much do you want for it?”
“You’re too young,” she said. “And besides, it would enrage your liberated female girlfriends.”
“Yeah,” Matt said, considering that. The prospect seemed to please him.
She seemed to see his whiskey glass for the first time.
“Are we celebrating something?” she asked.
“Yes, indeed,” Matt said.
“Good evening, Matthew,” Jason Washington said. “Nice of you to drop by.”
“Just what’s going on here?”
“Good night, Mrs. Washington,” Matt said.
“Jason?” Mrs. Washington asked. There was a hint of threat in her voice.
“I took the sergeant’s exam,” Jason said.
