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He looked up at her.
“Did you tape-record that pathetic woman last night?”
Jason didn’t reply.
“You did,” Martha said, shock and disgust i
n her voice. “Jason, she came to you in confidence.”
“She came to me looking for help. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“That’s not only illegal—and you’re an officer of the law—it’s disgusting! She wouldn’t have told you what she did if she knew you were recording it!”
He looked at her a long moment.
“I wanted to make sure I really understood what she said,” he said. “Watch!”
He pushed the Erase button on the machine.
“No tape, Martha,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure I had it all.”
He stood up and started to put on his shoulder holster.
She turned angrily and went back to the stove.
He appeared in the kitchen door, now fully dressed. She recognized his jacket as a new one, a woolen tweed from Uruguay, of all places.
“You ever hear about the ancient custom of killing the messenger who bears the bad news?” Jason replied. “Be kind to me, Martha.”
“Don’t try to be clever. Whatever it is, Peter Wohl won’t blame you.”
“I’m talking about the Mayor.”
She met his eyes for a moment, turned away from him, and then back again, this time offering a mug of coffee.
“Do you have time for this?” she asked. “Or is the drawing and quartering scheduled in the next five minutes?”
“It’s not a hearty meal, but the condemned man is grateful nonetheless.”
He took the coffee, took a sip, and then set it down.
“What’s all this about?” Martha asked. “What that woman said last night? Dirty cops in Narcotics?”
“We’re working on dirty cops elsewhere in the Department.”
“I thought Internal Affairs was supposed to police the Police Department.”
“They are.”
She considered that a moment.
“Oh, which explains why you and Peter are involved.”
He nodded.
“And now this. I think Mrs. Kellog was telling the truth. It will not make the Mayor’s day.”
Martha shook her head.
