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ara said.
“Sergeant Payne,” Kenny said. “This gentleman would like a word with you and the other people from Philadelphia.”
The man with Kenny smiled, stuck out his hand, and marched up to Matt.
“Sergeant, I’m Special Agent Bendick of the Federal Bureau,” he said.
“Federal Bureau of what?” Matt’s mouth, on automatic, asked innocently.
“Investigation, of course. The FBI.”
“How can I help the FBI?” Matt asked.
“It’s how the FBI can help you, Sergeant,” Special Agent Bendick said. “A telephone call would have saved you a trip all the way down here. But no real harm done. We’ll handle it from here.”
“Jesus Christ!” Mickey O’Hara said. “You guys really have no shame at all, do you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me, J. Edgar Junior. Anything to get the FBI favorable notice in the papers, right? You can already see the headline, right? ‘FBI Apprehends Philadelphia Murderer.’ ”
“Who are you, sir?” Special Agent Bendick asked.
"O’Hara’s my name.”
“And are you some sort of law enforcement officer?”
Mickey shook his head, “no.”
“I couldn’t get on the cops. My parents were married,” Mickey said. He took out his digital camera and aimed it at Special Agent Bendick, Sergeant Payne, and Lieutenant Washington.
“I’d rather not have my photograph taken, if you don’t mind,” Special Agent Bendick said, holding his hand out in a vain hope-Mickey nimbly dodged around it-of covering the lens so that a photograph would be impossible.
“Jesus, didn’t they tell you about the freedom of the press at the Quantico School for Boys?” Mickey asked.
“Sir,” Washington said, “if we feel that any assistance from the FBI would be useful to us in this investigation, I will seek same through the appropriate channels.”
“And you are?” Special Agent Bendick demanded.
“My name is Jason Washington. I’m a lieutenant with the Homicide Unit of the Philadelphia police department.”
“I’m Special Agent Bendick of the Mobile office of the FBI, Lieutenant…”
“So you said.”
“And inasmuch as this case crosses state lines, the FBI-”
“I don’t believe this case meets the necessary criteria for the unsolicited involvement of the FBI, Mr. Bendick,” Steve Cohen said.
“And may I ask who you are?”
“My name is Steven Cohen. I’m an assistant district attorney in Philadelphia.”
“I don’t really understand your attitude,” Special Agent Bendick began.
“They’re understandably a little pissed, J. Edgar Junior, that you tried to steal their pinch for the glory of the FBI. Unfortunately, you picked the wrong guys,” Mickey said.
He quickly snapped another photograph.
