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“The point will be made to everybody out there that there’s a lot of interest in what’s going on from us. That’s all that’s really necessary, and if we hang around it will look like we’re all going to be looking over his shoulder. I don’t want any question in anybody’s mind about who has the responsibility and the authority in this.”

The district attorney considered that for a full thirty seconds, which seemed longer.

“Peter,” she said, finally, “I don’t want these two to walk because we get enthusiastic or careless and do something stupid. Before we arrest them, I want a damned tight case against them. I don’t think we can safely rely on their fingerprints-or, for that matter, a confession. Now that defense attorneys have got their foot in the door with the successful challenges to fingerprints and confessions, we need to add to what we have now. Tying them positively to the murder weapon, for example, would be nice.”

Wohl nodded his understanding.

“I’ll pass the word that you get what you want, when you want it,” Chief Lowenstein said.

“Yes, sir,” Wohl said. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got an idea about that, too,” Coughlin said. “Everybody out there is wondering what the hell we’re talking about in here. So let’s give them a little show. Matt, you open the door, and tell Sergeant McElroy to call Southwest Detectives, and get Captain Calmon down here, now, to report to Inspector Wohl.”

“You’re serious about that, aren’t you, Denny?” Eileen asked.

“Yes, I’m serious. I want to make sure everybody knows who’s in charge.”

Lowenstein left the office, called his driver over, and told him what Coughlin had told him to tell him. Then he went back into the office.

Eileen started for the door.

“Where are you going, Eileen?”

“I’m going out there and tell Al Unger to call Steve Cohen and tell him to get right down here to advise Peter,” she said. She turned to Wohl. “Steve’s pretty bright, and I think he’ll be useful. If he gets in your way, call me.”

“I know Steve. We get along. But thanks, Eileen.”

Steven J. Cohen was one of the best of the more than two hundred assistant district attorneys of Philadelphia.

Eileen McNamara Solomon left Quaire’s office, spoke with Detective Al Unger, and then came back

in.

Deputy Commissioner Coughlin then left the office, called Captain Hollaran over, and told him to call the Internal Affairs Division and the Impact Unit in his name, ordering them to get a senior officer to Homicide immediately to report to Inspector Wohl. Then he went back into the office.

“Can we go now, Denny?” Eileen asked.

“One more thing,” Coughlin said. “Inspector Wohl, your orders from the commissioner are, ‘The Special Operations task force, paying cognizance to the suggestions of the District Attorney, will proceed with the investigation.’ ”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did I get that right, Eileen?”

“Verbatim,” Eileen said. “And paying cognizance to my suggestions, Inspector, means before you arrest either of these two critters, you check with me.”

“Steve Cohen won’t do?”

“With me, Inspector.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wohl said.

“Don’t ma’am me, Peter. I’m not old enough to be your mother,” the district attorney said, and left Quaire’s office. A moment later, Coughlin and Lowenstein followed her.

Even as he was pulling the unmarked Crown Victoria into one of the spaces reserved for the hotel limousine and other important cars-over the indignant, both arms waving, objections of the Ritz-Carlton doorman-Matt saw eight, ten, maybe more members of the press start to rush toward it, brandishing cameras and microphones.

“Do they always follow you around like this?” Matt asked.

“It is the price of celebrity,” Stan Colt said, solemnly, resignedly, and then added, in a normal voice, “And let me tell you, buddy, it gets to be a real pain in the ass.”