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"No. You want to stop someplace?"
"Good idea. Johnny's Hots okay with you?"
"Fine."
"You have an idea where McFadden's riding?"
"Thirteen, I think," the driver said.
Matt checked the controls of the radio to make sure the frequency was set to that of the Highway Patrol, then picked up the microphone.
"Highway Thirteen, Highway Nine."
"Thirteen," a voice immediately replied. Matt recognized it as Charley McFadden's.
"Thirteen, can you meet us at Johnny's Hots?"
"On the way," McFadden's voice said. "Highway Thirteen. Let me have lunch at Delaware and Penn Street."
"Okay, Thirteen," the J-band radio operator said. J-band, the city-wide band, is the frequency Highway units usually listen to. It gives them the opportunity to go in on any interesting call anywhere in the city.
"Highway Nine. Hold us out to lunch at the same location."
Matt dropped the microphone onto the seat.
"I guess you and McFadden are buying, huh?" the driver asked.
"Why should we do that?"
"You both passed the exam, didn't you?"
"You heard that, did you?"
"I also heard that Martinez didn't."
"I think that's what the business at the Roundhouse is all about. The inspector and Chief Coughlin are going to break it to him easy."
"I tried the corporal's exam three years ago and didn't make it," the driver said. "Then I figured, fuck it, I'd rather be doing this than working in an office anyhow."
Was that simply a conversational interchange, or have I just been zinged?
"I'm surprised Hay-zus didn't make it," Matt said.
"Yeah, I was too. But I guess some people can pass exams, and some people can't."
"You're right. You think McFadden knows we passed?"
"He told me this morning at roll call."
"So that means Martinez knows too, I guess?"
"Yeah, I'm sure he knows."
Was that why Hay-zus cut me cold, or was that on general principles?
TWO
Detective Matthew M. Payne, of East Detectives, pulled his unmarked car to the curb just beyond the intersection of 12^th and Butler Streets in the Tioga section of Philadelphia.
