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“He called Washington first thing this morning,” Wohl went on, “and told him he had just seen Officer Timothy J. Calhoun of Five Squad going into the safe-deposit box vault of the First Harrisburg Bank and Trust.”
“I . . . I was about to say I don’t think Calhoun’s about to take a shot at him, but remembering that telephone call to the Widow Kellog, maybe I shouldn’t. I’m more concerned about this Chenowith character. He knows he’s facing life anyway, so why worry about shooting a cop? And he’s crazy.”
“So far as I know, Matt is still trying to gain the Reynolds woman’s confidence. I think he understands the situation.”
“I hope you’re right. What happens next with Calhoun?”
“Matt’s supposed to call later with the name of the safe-deposit box number. Jason’s going to do everything about a search warrant but hand it to a judge for his signature.”
Coughlin nodded.
Wohl handed him the sheet of paper on which Dr. Martinez had written, “Miss Cynthia Longwood was stripped naked and orally raped by a policeman under circumstances that were themselves traumatic.”
Coughlin’s eyebrows went up, and he looked at Wohl for amplification.
“Amy gave me that this morning,” Wohl said.
Coughlin went off on a tangent.
“You’ve been seeing a lot of Amy, haven’t you?”
“How do you define ‘a lot’?”
“You know how to define ‘a lot,’ ” Coughlin said. “Does Amy believe this?”
Wohl nodded.
“This is a patient of hers?”
Wohl nodded again, and added, “And she’s Vincenzo Savarese’s granddaughter.”
“I heard his daughter had married a Main Line guy,” Coughlin said “but I didn’t make the connection until just now. Longwood is the builder, right?”
Wohl nodded.
“You think Savarese knows about this?”
“I think that message—it was phoned in to the hospital for Amy in the wee hours this morning—came from Savarese.”
“Savarese called the hospital?”
“More likely one of his goons. I talked to the doctor and the nurse who talked to them. Both agreed the guy on the phone didn’t use the kind of vocabulary in the message.”
“Anything else?”
“Amy is concerned about violating medical ethics, and when I told her I was going to talk to you about this, asked me to tell you this girl is about to get shoved off the cliff into schizophrenia, and please be careful.”
“That’s all?”
“She found traces of hard stuff in the girl’s blood, making her—and me—think there’s a drug connection.”
Coughlin grunted, read the message again, then raised his eyes to Wohl.
“You thinking what I’m thinking, Peter?”
“I hope so,” Wohl said.
Coughlin made a “give it to me” gesture with his hand. “There was a drug bust. That’s the ‘already traumatic circumstances.’ Then this animal did this to her, and let her go. What is she going to do? Walk into a district and tell the desk sergeant, ‘I was making a buy, and one of your cops’ . . . ?”
