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Wohl went on to explain that once the people sought are in custody, their fingerprints can be used to prove they were at the scene of the crime, “but until that happens, fingerprints won’t be of immediate use to us.
“And once we have these people in custody, and can place them in a police lineup, there is no question in my mind-experience shows-that the witnesses to their crime will be able to positively identify them. This crime will not go unpunished.”
Wohl said that police are already running down “a number of leads,” but declined to elaborate. End
Wohl slid the two sheets of paper across the table to Coughlin. Lowenstein leaned over so that he could read it, too.
“Magnificent story, Mickey,” Wohl said. “There’s just one little thing wrong with it. All those quotes from me are pure bullshit.”
“Is the Black Buddha the most skilled homicide investigator you know of, or not?” O’Hara challenged.
“Of course I am,” Washington said. “Let me see that when you’re finished, Dennis, please.”
“He is, but I didn’t tell you that,” Wohl said.
“But if I had asked, you would have said so, right? And I’m right about the fingerprints, right?”
“But I didn’t even talk to you at the goddamn funeral home!”
“But if you had, you would have said what I said you said, more or less, right?”
“This’ll be in the paper tomorrow, Mick?” Lowenstein asked.
“It will, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was on page one.”
“Pity you couldn’t have put in there that we had a late-night conference,” Lowenstein said. “Martin would have loved that.”
“I didn’t know about the ‘late-night conference’ until I walked in here,” O’Hara said. “When I heard on the command band that everybody was headed to the 700 block of North Second, I thought there was a war on here.”
“Commissioner Coughlin and myself were conferring privately with Inspector Wohl,” Lowenstein said, “when these underlings coincidentally felt the need for a late-night cup of coffee at this fine establishment.”
There were chuckles.
“Nice story, Mickey,” Coughlin said.
“Presuming the conference is over,” Wohl said, as he got to his feet, “I am going home.” He looked at Matt. “And so are you.”
Coughlin stood up.
“Are we square with the tab here?”
“I’ll get the tab,” Mickey O’Hara said. “My pleasure.”
“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and at the mayor’s office at quarter to nine, Matty,” Coughlin ordered. “And I expect you to be nice to your grandmother.”
“I have, as always,” Jason Washington said, getting to his feet, “thoroughly enjoyed the company of my colleagues. And I am sure you have all profited greatly from the experience. ”
Detective Harris shook his head, then chuckled, then giggled, and then laughed. That proved contagious, and each of them was smiling, or chuckling, or laughing as they filed out the door onto North Second Street.
SIX
The Hon. Alvin W. Martin looked up from his desk when his executive assistant, Dianna Kerr-Gally, a tall, thin, stylish, thirtyish black woman, slipped into his office. thin,
"It’s ten past nine, Mr. Mayor.”
“Is everybody in the conference room?”
“Just about, but Commissioner Mariani has someone he wants you to meet.”
