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"He said he didn't see any press. We probably attracted more attention taking her off the plane that way than if we' d just let Payne walk her through the terminal."
"Yeah, maybe. But this way, Matt, we did Detweiler a favor. And if Payne had walked her into the airport and there had been a dozen assholes from the TV and the newspapers…"
"You're right, of course."
"I'm always right, you should remember that."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Mayor."
"You free for lunch tomorrow?"
That'scant, Matt Lowenstein thought, having recently discovered that cant without the apostrophe meant that what was said was deceitful or hypocritical.What Jerry Carlucci was really saying was, " If you had something you wanted to do for lunch tomorrow, forget it."
"Yeah, sure."
"Probably the Union League at twelve-thirty. If there's a change, I'll have my driver call yours."
"Okay. Anything special?"
"Czernick called an hour or so ago," the mayor said. "The Secret Service told him what I already knew. The Vice President's going to honor Philadelphia with his presence."
Taddeus Czernick was police commissioner of the City of Philadelphia.
"It was in the papers."
"Maybe Czernick's driver was too busy to read the papers to him," the mayor said.
Jerry Carlucci was not saying unkind things behind Commissioner Czernick's back. He regularly got that sort of abuse in person. Matt Lowenstein had long ago decided that Carlucci not only really did not like Czernick, but held him in a great deal of contempt.
But Lowenstein had also long ago figured out that Czernick would probably be around as commissioner as long as Carlucci was the mayor. His loyalty to Carlucci was unquestioned, almost certainly because he very much liked being the police commissioner, and was very much aware that he served at Carlucci's pleasure.
"Half past twelve at the Union League," Lowenstein said. "I'll look forward to it."
Carlucci laughed.
"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Matt," he said, and then added, "I just had an idea about Payne too."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm still thinking about it. I'll tell you, tomorrow. You callWhatsisname?-At the airport?"
"Paul Ardell?"
"Yeah, right. And tell him I said thanks for a job well done."
"Yes, sir."
"Good night, Matt. Thank you."
"Good night, Mr. Mayor."
****
Marion Claude Wheatley made pork chops, green beans, apple sauce, and mashed potatoes for his supper. He liked to cook, was good at it, and when he made his own supper not only was it almost certainly going to be better than what he could get at one of the neighborhood restaurants, but it spared him both having to eat alone in public and from anything unpleasant that might happen on the way home from the restaurant.
Marion lived in the house in which he had grown up, in the 5000 block of Beaumont Street, just a few blocks off Baltimore Avenue and not far from the 49^th Street Station. There was no point in pretending that the neighborhood was not deteriorating, but that didn' t mean his house was deteriorating. He took a justifiable pride in knowing that he was just as conscientious about taking care of the house as his father had been.
If something needed painting, it got painted. If one of the faucets started dripping, he went to the workshop in the basement and got the proper tools and parts and fixed it.
