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“When that nickname first made headlines,” Carlucci said, somewhat sharply, “the reporter meant it as a compliment. Marshal Earp was considered the most effective lawman of his time. Matt comes from a family of good cops. His father was killed by a robber months before Matt was born. And it reflects well on the department to have in its ranks officers from the Main Line, especially one who’s smarter than hell. He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania summa cum laude and, not surprisingly, scored the highest in the department on the sergeant’s exam.” Carlucci glanced at Coughlin, then looked at Finley. “And, because Matt also comes from money, he doesn’t need his job, either. In a sense the same as you, James—with one difference.”

“And what is that?”

“He’s time and again put his life on the line to save people in this city,” Carlucci said.

Finley stared for a long moment at Carlucci, then looked at Stein.

“Ed? What do you say?”

Stein looked between Finley and Carlucci.

“I agree the media sensationalizes the O.K. Corral thing. If, however, you mean about Matt? You won’t be thrilled, James, but I say I like him. And that’s not because I used to work for his father’s firm.” He paused, then in a lighter tone added, “Or because it would appear that we frequent the same clothier . .

.”

Finley snorted.

Stein shrugged. “I’m with the mayor. I think Matt’s a great cop doing a great job that most people do not understand and would never do once they learned what it takes to protect our society from the barbarians. He does not go to work looking to shoot someone. He’s a deadly asset, and without such deadly assets, crime soars.”

I suddenly like you even more, Stein, Carlucci thought.

“Well, that is putting a happy face on it,” Finley said sharply. “Because that’s damn sure what happens. Over and over. He’s been in—what?—three shootings that resulted in deaths in just as many months? And that’s just recently.”

“And every one has been found to be righteous. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it,” Carlucci said, his tone smug. After a moment, he added, “What I’d like to do is find out who the hell’s the source in the department that’s leaking the names of cops.”

“What do you mean?” Finley said.

Carlucci looked at Coughlin.

“In an Officer-Involved Shooting,” Coughlin offered, “we don’t release the officer’s name until after the incident has been thoroughly investigated, and only release it then if the officer is found to have erred.”

“Why not before?”

“Because,” Carlucci picked up, “if the officer is cleared and then his name gets released, he’ll get dragged through the mud that is the news media, and then could become targeted—simply for doing his job correctly. A shooting that is determined to be righteous is exactly that.”

Carlucci exchanged glances with Coughlin, then looked quickly at the television. “Now what the hell are they doing?”

All eyes turned to see a small group of African-American men marching into view behind the reporter interviewing Payne. They were wearing black cape-like flowing garments over white shirts, some with clerical collars. They carried four-by-six-foot homemade signs atop what looked like wooden broomsticks.

The first, with rows of photographs of dead men, read PASTORS FOR PEACE NOW! The one behind it had NO MORE MURDERS! and the numbers 360 and 361 crossed out and 362 written next to them. The last one read STOP KILLADELPHIA! All had across the bottom: WORD OF BROTHERLY LOVE MINISTRY.

“Well,” Finley said, “I didn’t want to mention the good Reverend Josiah Cross, but I wondered when he and his flock would get involved. That last sign would indicate to me that they’re the ones fanning the flames on the Internet.”

Another sign then appeared right behind Payne. It had an enlarged photograph of Payne that had run widely in the media a few months earlier. It showed him lit by camera flash in a darkened parking lot. He was wearing a dinner jacket and holding his Colt Officer’s Model .45 ACP pistol—and standing over an armed robber he had just shot. Above that image were the words PUBLIC ENEMY #1.

“That,” Carlucci said angrily, almost spitting out the words, “is what I mean by targeting a police officer cleared of any wrongdoing whatsoever.”

“Not to mention another PR fire for me to put out,” Finley said sarcastically, and then in a more excited tone added, “You don’t think Payne will shoot them?”

Finley then sighed.

“What the hell else could happen today?”

[ FOUR ]

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