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“Payne.”
“D’Amata, Matt. Where are you?”
“Halligan’s Pub.”
“Yeah. Lassiter said you’d be going there. She with you?”
“Yeah.”
“You eat yet?”
“Just finished.”
“I’m in Liberties,” D’Amata said. “I figured you might want to compare notes.”
He’s taking care of me. That’s nice.
“Okay.”
“The Black Buddha’s going to want to know what’s going on, and he’ll be finished with that artsy thing pretty soon. If you don’t want to come to Center City, I could meet you someplace. ”
“I’ll come there. I’ve got to pick up my car at the Roundhouse anyway. Thirty minutes?”
“Thirty minutes,” D’Amata said, and hung up.
Matt looked at Olivia.
“We have to meet D’Amata, Mother,” he said.
She nodded.
“Can I ask you a favor?” Matt asked the bartender.
“Name it.”
“I’m going to give you a card-a bunch of cards-with my number on it. If any of the people on the list Mother gave you come in, would you hand them one and ask them to call?”
“Sure.”
"Give one to anybody who might have an idea,” Matt said. "Okay?”
“You got it.”
Matt took a small, stuffed-to-capacity card case from his pocket.
“These are old,” Matt said. “They say Special Operations. But the number I write on them will be Homicide. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Tell them to ask for me or Detective Lassiter, but if neither of us is there, to talk to any Homicide detective, and leave a phone number and an address.”
“Got it.”
It took Matt and Olivia about five minutes to write her name and the Homicide number on all of the cards.
Then Matt asked for the check.
“On me,” Charley the bartender said.
