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The Union League of Philadelphia was founded as a patriotic society in 1862, during the Civil War, by men of the upper middle class. They supported the Union side in the war and, of course, President Lincoln’s policies. In keeping with its motto of “Love of Country Leads,” the League fiercely supported the military of the United States of America. Its building, listed on the National Historic Register, occupied a whole block of Center City.
Coughlin regularly came and spoke to the Union League’s members and guests as an outreach of the police department. The gathering had evolved-which was to say, had grown far beyond his expectations-from smaller informal chats over drinks in the League’s bar down the corridor. Still, he tried to keep the tone of the larger gathering the same as that of those earlier ones-that of a more or less casual get-together.
The outreach was a self-appointed task, one he felt neither the mayor nor the police commissioner could do effectively because of their high profiles. And they both agreed with Coughlin; as first deputy police commissioner, he was the top cop who really had his hand in the everyday business of all the varied departments.
Coughlin considered it highly important that the city’s heavy hitters had a better understanding of what the department was doing-and what the men on the street were up against. If they did, he figured, then they would be more prone to defend and support the police department. And, failing that, at least not be of a limited mind-set to rush to judgment and damn the department for the slightest infraction.
Denny Coughlin quickly patted his suit coat at chest level, first one side then the other. He felt relief when he found that the half-dozen index cards bearing his notes for the evening discussion were still in the inside left pocket.
Coughlin then looked at Hollaran and said, “Frank, Jason Washington told me that that Texas Ranger is with Matty.”
“That’s right, Denny.”
“Put out the arm for them, would you, please? For one, I’d like to meet the man. Liz Justice spoke highly of him. For another, he might be able to contribute to tonight’s topic. Meantime, I’m going to visit the gentlemen’s facility before this thing gets started.”
Hollaran nodded, then stepped into the corridor. He pulled out his cell phone from his suit jacket’s inside pocket. But then he remembered that by the door was a chrome-plated four-foot-tall pole on a round chrome base that displayed a sign:
CELLULAR TELEPHONE CONVERSATIONS PROHIBITED! PER STRICT LEAGUE POLICY 0654-1. KINDLY TURN OFF ALL SUCH DEVICES. THANK YOU.
Hollaran walked down the corridor and went to a bank of telephones. He picked up the receiver of one that had a small sign beside it that read LOCAL CALLS. He looked at his cell phone. He scrolled down its phone book list until he found PAYNE MATT HOME, then PAYNE MATT CELL. He punched a key to show the number, then he punched the number into the landline phone’s keypad.
“Matt,” Hollaran said when Payne answered. “Frank Hollaran. Commissioner Coughlin would like you and your guest to join us at the Union League. How soon can you get here?”
“We just left the ME’s office,” Payne said.
“Anything new?”
“Yeah. And it doesn’t look good. I think we can be there directly. ‘We’ being Jim Byrth and Tony Harris.”
Harris? Hollaran thought. He’s a damned good cop.
But he’d be out of his league here in, well, the League. Would that make him uncomfortable? “I have no problem with Tony, Matt. But would he be comfortable?”
“A helluva lot more comfortable than where we just were and witnessed.”
Hollaran heard a strange tone in Payne’s voice. Anger maybe? “Okay,” he said. “I leave the decision in your capable hands, Sergeant. See you shortly.”
Forty-five minutes earlier, Philadelphia Homicide Detective Tony Harris and Philadelphia Homicide Sergeant Matt Payne and Texas Rangers Sergeant Jim Byrth had walked out of Liberties feeling no pain. The questions had arisen as to where they were going to have dinner and where Byrth was going to rent a room for the duration of his stay in the City of Brotherly Love.
Payne had said, “I’d offer you the guest room in my apartment-”
“Thanks, but no way could I accept your offer,” Byrth had interrupted.
“And you’re exactly correct,” Payne had replied. “Because I’m not.”
Byrth turned to him with a
look that said, Then why the hell did you offer it?
Tony Harris explained, “It’s because he doesn’t have one. His apartment is tiny.”
Payne’s stomach growled.
“Excuse me. Obviously, I am in need of sustenance,” he said. Then he added, “Jim, that was what’s known as a hypothetical statement. Because if I did have one, it’d be all yours. That’s where I was going with that train of thought.”
Byrth smiled, then shook his head. The Hat on top accentuated the motion.
Harris added, “You’re welcome to stay at my house. I do have a guest room.”
