He gestured toward a brick path leading from the house to a grove of trees.
Peter Wohl did not permit anyone else to drive his car. He had spent three years and more money than he liked to remember rebuilding it from the frame up, and had no intention of having it damaged by someone else.
“I’ll park it, thank you. Around the back?”
“Beside the carriage house, if you please, sir.”
Matt, who had followed him to the estate, now followed him to the carriage house.
There were two cars already parked there. One, a nearly new Ford four-door sedan both Matt and Wohl recognized as the unmarked Department car assigned to Captain Mike Sabara, Wohl’s deputy. The other was a four-year-old Chevrolet with a Fraternal Order of Police sticker in the rear windshield.
They each noticed the other looking at it, and then shrugged almost simultaneously, indicating that neither recognized it.
They walked across the cobblestones past the carriage house (now a four-car garage) to the brick walk and toward the barbecue pit. They were almost out of sight of the house when they heard another car arrive.
It was a Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon, and at the moment Matt decided that it looked vaguely familiar, there was proof. The Buick wagon stopped at the portico of the mansion and Miss Penelope Detweiler got out.
“Shit,” Matt said.
“Someone you know, I gather?” Wohl said.
“Precious Penny Detweiler,” Matt said.
“Really?” Wohl sounded surprised.
“Before we send the hit man to the mayor’s house, do you suppose he’d have time to do a job on Pekach’s girlfriend?”
They reached the barbecue pit. It was a circular area perhaps fifty feet across, with brick benches, now covered with flowered cushions, at the perimeter. There were several cast-iron tables and matching chairs, each topped with a large umbrella. Each table had been set with place mats and a full set of silver and glassware.
A bar had been set up, and another black man in a white jacket stood behind that. A third black man, older and wearing a gray jacket, whom Matt recognized as Evans, Martha Peebles’s butler, was, assisted by Captain Pekach, adjusting the rack over a large bed of charcoal in the grill itself, a brick structure in the center of the circle.
“God,” Wohl said softly, “ain’t getting back to simple nature wonderful?”
Martha Peebles came up to them when they stepped inside the circle.
“I’m so glad you could come,” she said. “David is fixing the fire.”
She gave her cheek to Matt, who kissed it, and then to Wohl, who followed suit.
“I think I should warn you, Martha,” Matt said. “That when he’s at work, we don’t let the captain play with matches.”
“Penny Detweiler’s coming,” Martha said. “She should be here any minute.”
“She’s here.”
“I ran into her and her mother at the butcher’s, and I asked them to join us. . . .”
Matt smiled insincerely.
“And Grace said she and Dick were tied up, but Penny . . .”
“Would just love to come, right?” Matt said.
“And I told Grace you would drive her home, afterward. Is that all right?”
The bartender approached them.
“Can I get you gentlemen something?”
“How are you fixed for strychnine?”
“I’m beginning to suspect that wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done,” Martha said. “If I did the wrong thing, Matt, I’m sorry. It was just that I knew she is just home . . .”
“I don’t think you’re capable of doing the wrong thing, Martha,” Matt said. “On the other hand, I’m famous for being ill-mannered. Sure, I’ll take her home.” He turned to the bartender: “I’ll have a beer, please. Ortlieb’s, if you have it.”
“The same for me, please,” Wohl said.
Officer Paul T. O’Mara, holding a bottle of Pabst, walked up. He was in civilian clothing, a sports coat, and slacks.
“Hello, Paul,” Wohl said.
Matt decided Wohl was surprised and not entirely pleased to see whoever this guy was.
“Inspector, would you please call your father?”
“How old is that request?” Wohl asked.
“He called me at my dad’s house about ten,” O’Mara said. “He said he couldn’t find you at your apartment. I called Captain Sabara . . .”
“And he said I’d probably be here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He got through to me,” Wohl said. “But good job, Paul, running me down.”
“Yes, sir. Miss Peebles asked me to stay . . .”
“How lucky for you.”
“Captain Sabara said it would be all right.”
“Paul, this is Matt Payne,” Wohl said.
“Yes, sir, I know who he is.” He put out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Payne.”