a departmental policy that states that police officers having reason to suspect brother officers of dishonesty will—-will, not may—bring this to the attention of Internal Affairs.”
“Yes, sir. Martinez asked me if I would be willing to go to this place to see if Lanza was associating with known criminals . . .”
“And if he was, I was going to tell you his name, Inspector,” Martinez said to Wohl.
"... and I agreed,” Matt went on. "Then it occurred to me it would make sense if I knew where I was going. To take a look at the place before I followed Lanza there, in other words. So I went up there.”
“No one, correct me if I’m wrong, told you to do so. Just your buddy Martinez asked you, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is there anyone else involved in this? Another buddy?”
Martinez and Matt looked at each other.
“Okay, who?” Marchessi asked, correctly interpreting the exchanged glances.
“He didn’t do anything, sir,” Martinez said.
“Who, dammit?”
“I talked about Lanza to Detective McFadden, sir.”
“He’s the officer you worked with in Narcotics?” Marchessi asked.
“Yes, sir.”
If he knows that, Matt thought, he knows that it was Hay-zus and Charley who brought down the guy who killed Uncle Dutch. That ought to be worth something.
“Anybody else?”
“No, sir.”
“Just the three of you, huh? Your own private detective squad within the Department, huh?”
Marchessi looked between them until it was clear that neither dared reply to that, and then went on.
“You have any trouble getting in this place, Payne?”
“No, sir.”
“It’s open to the public?”
“I believe it’s operated as a club, sir. I was with someone who belonged.”
“That could be interpreted to mean that you are associating with known criminals.”
“Not in this case, sir,” Matt said quickly.
But that’s bullshit. Penny is a known narcotics addict, as well as someone known to associate with known criminals. Jesus!
“And this Corporal Lanza was there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Associating with known criminals?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“The truth of the matter, Payne,” Wohl said, “is that, with the possible exception of somebody like Vincenzo Savarese, you wouldn’t recognize a known criminal if you fell over one. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me about the two-thousand-dollar marker,” Marchessi said.
“Sir, as I was cashing out, I saw Lanza sign a marker for two thousand dollars’ worth of chips. He was in the line ahead of me.”
“I thought you said you didn’t follow him up there.”
“I didn’t. He was there.”
“You knew him by sight? That would suggest he knows you by sight.”
“Yes, sir. But not the way that sounds, sir.”
“Clarify it for me.”
“I didn’t know who he was. But I made him as a cop. He was carrying.”
“People, other than policemen, sometimes go about armed.”
“I had a gut feeling he was a cop, sir, and then he spoke to me.”
“What did he say?”
“I had apparently run into him in Las Vegas, sir. And on the airplane from Las Vegas home. He recognized me. Not as a cop.”
“You made him, is that what you’re saying, as a cop, but he didn’t make you as a cop?”
“I’m sure I could have told if he had, sir.”
“I admire your confidence in your own judgment, Payne,” Marchessi said. “And then what did you do?”
“I came back to Philadelphia and called Off . . . Detective Martinez and told him (a) that Lanza had been in the Oaks and Pines and (b) had signed a marker for two thousand dollars.”
“And then I went to see you, sir,” Martinez said to Wohl.
“Tell me, Martinez,” Marchessi said. “Have you any evidence to connect Corporal Lanza with the smuggling of narcotics, or, for that matter, of anything else, or any other criminal activity, at the airport?”
“No evidence, sir. But it has to be him.”
“ ‘Has’ to be him?” Marchessi replied, softly sarcastic.
He looked at Wohl, who shrugged his shoulders.
“You two wait outside. In the corridor,” Marchessi said.
Matt and Martinez turned around and left his office.
“You want some coffee, Peter?” Marchessi asked.
“What I would like is a stiff drink.”
“At this hour of the morning?”
“Figure of speech,” Wohl said.
“Both of them talked about ‘gut feelings,’ or implied it,” Marchessi said. “My gut feeling is that they’ve found who we’re looking for.”
“But have they blown it?” Wohl asked. “Dammit, I asked him to give me a name.”
“Give him the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t want to point a finger until he was sure.”
“And while he was making sure, there was a good chance this guy would smell that he was being watched. And breaking into his car was absolute stupidity.”