Detweiler mansion himself, and informed him first that Penny would be down in a moment.
“Your Porsche is down?” he asked, and then as if that was self-evident went on without giving Matt a chance to reply, “Your dad told me you couldn’t bring yourself to sell the Volkswagen.”
“An old friend, tried and true,” Matt said. “It would have been like selling Amy.”
Detweiler smiled a little uncomfortably.
“Tell you what,” Mr. Detweiler said. “The Mercedes man was here today. Yesterday. Doing Penny’s car. It hadn’t been moved, since . . . uh . . . you brought it out here.”
The Philadelphia Police Department (specifically then Officer M. M. Payne and then Detective Jason Washington) had returned the victim’s automobile, a 1973 Mercedes-Benz 380 SL roadster, to her residence after it had been processed by the forensics experts of the Mobile Crime Lab at the scene of the crime. The scene of the crime had been a Center City parking lot where the victim had been wounded by a shotgun during a homicide in which Mr. Anthony J. DeZego had been fatally shot by unknown person or persons.
Jesus, that’s a great idea! I really didn’t want to roll up to the Oaks and Pines in the Bug.
“It really should be driven,” Mr. Detweiler said. “Why don’t you take it? It’s a long way to Allentown.”
“Allentown”? What the hell does he mean, “Allentown”? And now that I think about it, it’s a lousy idea. I don’t want Precious Penny reminded of Tony the Zee lying on the concrete with his stomach blown out his back.
“Is that a good idea?” Matt said. “Bad memories?”
“I thought of that,” H. Richard Detweiler said, somewhat impatiently. He touched Matt’s shoulder. “Replace bad memories with a good one, right?”
He waited until Matt nodded, then pushed him toward the door.
“Come on in and have a drink, one drink, and I’ll have Jensen get the car while we’re having it.”
Jensen was the Detweilers’ chauffeur.
Detweiler led Matt onto the veranda outside the small sitting room where, predictably, Grace Detweiler was also waiting.
“How are you, Matt? You look very nice.”
Matt, as he was expected to, kissed her cheek.
Detweiler picked up the telephone.
“Florence,” he ordered, “would you please ask Jensen to bring Penny’s car around to the front?”
“What’s that all about?” Grace Detweiler asked.
“Matt’s car is down,” Detweiler said. “He’s driving his Volkswagen, which is visibly on its last legs. Or tires. I suggested that he take Penny’s car.”
“Is that a good idea?” Grace challenged.
“He’s a policeman now,” Detweiler said. “He doesn’t get tickets, he gives them.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” Detweiler snapped. “Leave it lie, Grace. They’re taking the Mercedes.”
“Well, excuse me!”
“Scotch all right, Matt?”
“A weak one, please,” Matt said.
Penny and the chauffeur came onto the veranda together.
“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Detweiler,” Jensen said.
“Communications problem again,” Detweiler said. “Mr. Matt and Penny will be taking the car. I’m not going anywhere.”
Penny walked to Matt and leaned up and kissed his cheek. She was wearing a crisp-looking cord suit with a frilly blouse under the jacket.
Giving the devil his—the deviless her—due, she’s not a bad-looking female.
He had a quick, clear mental image of her in his erotic dream and wondered, almost idly, if she really looked that way, au naturel.
The next line in this little scenario of life in Chestnut Hill will be Detweiler telling me to make sure I get Precious Penny home by twelve, or maybe twelve-thirty.
“I’ll put your bag in the car, Miss Penny,” Jensen said.
“Thank you, Jensen,” Penny smiled sweetly.
“Bag”? What bag? And what was that about Allentown?
“Well, Matt,” Penny said. “You said not to keep you waiting. Here I am. Are we going to go or what?”
“One or the other,” Matt said. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘what.’ ”
“We’ll see you later,” Penny said, and caught Matt’s hand and led him off the veranda.
“Have a good time,” Grace Detweiler called after them.
Jensen was waiting by the Mercedes, waiting to close Penny’s door. Both doors were open.
Matt got behind the wheel, adjusted the seat, and waited for Penny to get it. The moment she closed the door he could smell her perfume.
A gas expands to the limits of its containment; there ain’t a hell of a lot of space in here. Be nice.
“You smell good,” Matt said.
“Oh, I’m so glad you noticed!” Penny said.
Is that sarcasm?
Matt looked over at her. Penny was bent over, fixing the carpet, or something, on the floorboard. He got a quick, unintentional look down her blouse. A white brassiere.