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“How are you doing?”
“I was just about to go out and get some breakfast.”
“Not necessary,” Wohl said, handing him a large kraft paper bag. “Never let it be said that I do not take care of my underlings.”
Matt sniffed it.
“Smells great. What is it?”
“Western omelet, bagels, orange juice, and coffee.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Matt said.
“I expected to find you still in bed,” Wohl said.
“Huh?”
“Amy said that the pill she gave you…” Wohl stopped. He had followed Matt into the kitchen and seen the stack of Forms 75-49. “What’s this?”
“75-49s on the Inferno job,” Matt said. “Milham told me to read them.”
“When did you see Milham?”
“Last night. Early this morning. I went over there—”
“You didn’t take Amy’s pill?” Wohl asked, but it was a statement rather than a question.
“No, I didn’t,” Matt confessed. “I had a couple of drinks here, decided going to the FOP was a good idea, started out for there, changed my mind, and went to Homicide.”
“Why?” Wohl asked, a tone of exasperation in his voice.
“At the time it seemed like a good idea,” Matt said.
Wohl reached into his jacket pocket and came out with an interoffice memorandum. He handed it to Matt.
“One of the reasons I came here was to show you this. I guess you’ve seen it.”
Matt glanced at it.
“Yeah. Milham had a copy.”
“Lowenstein sent me one,” Wohl said, taking the memorandum back and then crumpling it in his f
ist. He looked around, remembered the garbage can was under the sink, and went to it and dropped the memorandum in it.
“For some reason, I’m not sore at you,” Wohl said. “I think I should be.”
“I didn’t want that damned pill,” Matt said.
“That, I understand. But you shouldn’t have gone to Homicide until I sent you.”
“Sorry,” Matt said.
“Oh, hell, I’d have probably done the same thing myself,” Wohl said. “Unwrap the omelets.”
“Lieutenant Natali was very nice to me,” Matt said.
“Natali’s a nice fellow,” Wohl said. “Where’s your cups? I hate coffee in a paper cup.”
