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He called me “Mother.” Goddamn it, now everybody will.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir,” Olivia said.
“Apology noted,” Washington went on. “We have such a visor cap among the unclaimed items at the crime scene. On it the lab, on its first look, found a rather poor print of what may be an index finger. Detective Harris has gone to the lab asking them to exert greater effort. I have visited the lab myself with the same purpose. I am going to drop by again on my way home tonight.”
“Would I do any good, do you think, Jason?” Coughlin asked.
“With all due respect, Commissioner, I think that would be counterproductive.”
“Is that so?” Coughlin challenged.
“On the other hand, if Captain Hollaran could find a moment in his busy schedule to drop by the lab,” Washington replied, “that would suggest great interest in their activities by someone in a high position without invoking the terror a visit by you personally would generate.”
“Terror?” Coughlin chuckled. “Your call, Jason.”
“When, Jason?” Hollaran asked.
“To preserve what little is left of my once-happy marriage, I am going home-via the lab-just as soon as we hear from Doctor Payne,” Washington said. “How about immediately after you see the commissioner home?”
“Done,” Hollaran said.
“Our finding a useful print is what the wagering fraternity would term a long shot,” Washington went on. “But at the moment, it’s all we have.”
“Just before I came here, Matt,” D’Amata said, “I checked the results of the door-to-door interviews. Zero. Nobody saw or heard a thing. So Harry and I are going to try that again in the morning.”
There was the sound of tortured metal, as if a bumper had scraped the curbstone.
Wohl looked at Matt. They smiled.
“She must have missed the fire hydrant,” Matt said.
“One of her good days,” Wohl said.
Amy came through the door a moment later, holding a lined pad. A stethoscope stuck out of the side pocket of her suit jacket.
“Everybody’s here,” she said.
She bent over Coughlin to kiss his cheek, slid into a chair beside Wohl, and smiled at the people around the table.
“What did you just hit?” Wohl asked.
She looked at him in genuine surprise.
“Nothing,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
They’re all smiling. She really must be a lousy driver, Olivia thought.
And she really doesn’t look old enough to be a doctor.
And she doesn’t look at all like Matt.
“I appreciate your help, sweetheart,” Coughlin said. “It’s important to us.”
“Sweetheart”? What’s that all about?
“What have you got for us, honey?” Wohl asked.
“I’m not your honey, Peter,” she said. “I’m doing this as a concerned citizen.”
