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“Do they serve food in Halligan’s Pub?”
“I don’t know. I suppose so.”
Matt looked at his watch.
“I’ll meet you at Northwest in twenty-five, thirty minutes,” he said. “You can give them their car back. Where is this Halligan’s Pub?”
“In Flourtown.”
“Okay. Then we will go together to Halligan’s Pub. And after that, we’ll see. Washington called. I can pick up my car at the Roundhouse.”
“Fine,” she said. “Anything else?”
“Call Joe D’Amata and tell him we’re going to check out the saloon.”
“Right.”
A uniform sergeant put out his hand to stop the silver Porsche as it rolled into the POLICE VEHICLES ONLY parking lot at the Thirty-fifth District Building. Except for a few rooms used by the Inspector for the North Police Division, Northwest Detectives occupied most of the second floor of the building.
The driver of the Porsche rolled down the window.
“I think it’ll be all right, Officer,” he said. “I’m just here to pick up my date.”
He pointed toward Detective Olivia Lassiter, who was leaning against the wall by the entrance.
The uniform sergeant whistled shrilly, attracting Detective Lassiter’s attention.
“You know this guy, Lassiter?”
She looked, and then nodded.
“Yeah.”
She walked to the Porsche.
“Next time, find some other place to park,” the sergeant said.
“Yes, sir,” Matt said.
Olivia got in the Porsche.
Where the hell did he get this car? A Porsche on a detective’s pay?
“Have a good time, Lassiter,” the sergeant said.
Matt grinned, but didn’t say anything as he turned the Porsche around.
“What was that all about? ‘Have a good time’?” Olivia asked.
Matt shrugged.
“What did you say to him?” Olivia challenged.
“Nothing,” Matt said.
The hell you didn’t. You’re really a smart-ass. “You get a gold star for Mommy!” Jesus!
“Did you get anything from the Williamsons besides the name of this saloon?” Matt asked.
