is that I smell?”
“Some kind of after-shave that comes from the Virgin Islands or somewhere. I get a ritual bottle of it from Amy on suitable occasions. ”
“Nice,” she said. “Who’s ‘Hay-zus’?”
“Martinez. A cop.”
“You don’t like him much, do you? I could tell from the tone of your voice.”
“No, I don’t suppose I do like him. He’s a good cop, though.”
“Are you a good cop?”
“You haven’t been reading the newspapers. I’m a goddamned Dick Tracy.”
“You almost got killed, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I guess I did.”
“You know I don’t understand you being a cop at all, don’t you?”
“There’s a good deal about you I don’t understand, either.”
“Was that a simple statement of fact, or are we back to Tony? And other things?”
“Are we going to fight now? Are things back to normal?”
“I don’t know if we’re going to fight or not, but I don’t think things are ever going to be the same between us.” She paused. “Do you?”
“No. How could they be?”
“If you can keep your lust under control, you can kiss me, Matthew. ”
He leaned across the table and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“I like kissing you better than fighting with you,” Penny said. “Let’s try that for a while and see what happens.”
Peter Wohl, lying in his bed, had just decided that his delicate condition, the session with Larkin, Washington, Malone, and John Barleycorn having lasted until after ten, indicated a couple of soft boiled eggs on toast, rather than a restaurant breakfast, when his door buzzer sounded.
Who the hell is that, at quarter to seven?
He got out of bed, put on a bathrobe, and walked barefoot to the door.
“Hello, Hay-zus,” he said. “How are you? Come on in.”
What the hell do you want? That you couldn’t have said on the telephone?
“I brought this back,” Martinez said, thrusting the loose-leaf notebook with BUREAU OF NARCOTICS AND DANGEROUS DRUGS Investigator’s Manual FOR INTERNAL USE ONLY stamped on its cover at Wohl.
At seven o’clock in the goddamned morning?
“Thank you,” Wohl said.
“And I wanted to talk to you,” Martinez said a little uncomfortably. “I thought it would be better if I came. Instead of calling, I mean.”
“Absolutely. Do you know how to make coffee?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You make the coffee, then, while I catch a quick shower,” Wohl said, and pointed toward his kitchen.
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s on your mind, Hay-zus?” Wohl asked, walking into the kitchen buttoning the cuff of his shirt.
“Inspector, the last time I was here . . . sir, you asked me if I had a gut feeling about anybody, anybody dirty, I mean, and I told you I didn’t.”
And now you’re going to tell me, right?
“I remember.”
“I did, but I didn’t want to say anything.”
“I understand. What’s your gut feeling, Hay-zus?”
“There’s a corporal out there, name of Vito Lanza.”
“And you think he’s dirty? Why?”
“He just came back from Las Vegas with a lot of money. Enough to buy a new Cadillac.”
“Your pal Matt Payne was just in Vegas and did about the same thing.”
“Payne’s different. Payne’s got money. He can afford that kind of money to gamble.”
“Is that all you’ve got to go on, Hay-zus?”
“The day before yesterday, this Lanza had a lot of money, in cash, ninety-four hundred dollars, in his glove compartment.”
Maybe he is onto something. That’s a lot of money. Christ knows, I never had ninety-four hundred dollars in cash. But then I never gambled in Las Vegas, either. And how the hell does he know that?
“How do you know that?”
Martinez’s face flushed.
The reason he knows that is that he went into this guy’s car. My God!
“Forget I asked that question. That way you won’t have to lie to me,” Wohl said. “Anything else?”
“There was also a matchbook from a place in the Poconos, called the Oaks and Pines Lodge,” Martinez said. “I called a guy I know in Vice and asked him about it, and he said they gamble in the back room of that place.”
“Fortunately, that’s no concern of ours, our jurisdiction ending as it does at the city line.”
Why did you do that? This guy is trying, and sarcasm is not in order.
“At two o’clock this morning, Lanza signed a marker for two thousand dollars at this place.”
“How do you know that? What did you do, for Christ’s sake, follow him?”
“No, sir. But I got it from a good source.”
“You’re supposed to be undercover, Martinez. That means you don’t talk to people about what you’re doing. Who’s your source?”
“I don’t want to get him in trouble, Inspector.”
“Cut the crap, Martinez. Who’s your source?”
“Well, I