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Peter Wohl’s voice came somewhat metallically over the speaker:
“Hey, Gerry, what can I do for you?”
“Inspector, you said I could ask for anything for the Stan Colt job.”
“My toothbrush excepted, ask away.”
“Mutt and Jeff. They on something that won’t wait?”
“When and where do you want them, Gerry?”
“North Philadelphia Airport at three. Tell them to report to Sergeant Payne.”
“They’ll be there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Any time.”
The line went dead.
“Why don’t you take Lassiter to Northeast Detectives now, and get that over with?” Quaire said.
“Yes, sir.”
“And then I’ll see you at the airport at three,” McGuire said.
“Yes, sir.”
Matt stood patiently by Olivia’s desk and waited until she finished talking on the telephone.
“I really appreciate that, Lieutenant,” she said. “We really want to get this guy.”
She put the handset in its cradle and looked up at Matt.
“Cincinnati Homicide,” she said. “Nice guy. Nothing that he can think of offhand, but he’s going to check around for me. What’s up?”
“Let’s go out to Northeast and get our statements out of the way,” Matt said.
She didn’t reply, but stood up, and took her purse from the desk drawer, and then waited for him to lead the way out of the office.
In the elevator, she asked, “What was going on in the captain’s office?”
“That was Lieutenant McGuire of Dignitary Protection,” Matt said. “He’s about to protect Stan Colt from his horde of fans.”
“And?”
“I’m going to help him,” Matt said.
“What’s that all about?”
The elevator door opened onto
the lobby.
“I’ll tell you later,” he said, and held the keys to the Porsche out to her. “Follow me to my place, and I’ll dump the car there.”
It seemed for a moment as if she was going to object, but she finally took the keys without comment.
