Page 183

“There’s usually a little you-scratch-my-back-and-I’ll-scratch — yours in the deal, Stan,” Mickey said. “You asked before if what we’re doing here is hanging out. No. What I’m doing is waiting to see if, or how well, the inspector is going to scratch my back.”

“Under the circumstances, Stan, I’m going to have to ask you not to repeat, to anyone, what I’m about to tell Mickey and you.”

“You got it. My lips are sealed,” Mr. Colt said. He looked at Matt, held up his right hand with the three center fingers extended, and added, “Boy Scout’s Honor.”

“Tony Harris went to Harrisburg,” Wohl said. “The State Police were able to get a hit from the print on the visor cap using the AFIS.”

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, old sport,” Mr. Colt interrupted in his British accent, “but I haven’t the foggiest fucking idea what you are talking about.”

Wohl turned his head to look at Colt, and for a moment Matt thought Colt was about to be either frozen with a Wohl glance, or perhaps even treated to an example of Wohl sarcasm, but Wohl surprised him by smiling.

“Well, dear boy, we certainly can’t have that, now can we?” Wohl said, in a British accent very nearly as good as the actor’s. Then he dropped the accent and added, “There was a double homicide in connection with an armed robbery of a Roy Rogers restaurant on South Broad, the guys who did it got away, and we just found out, using a fingerprint we previously thought was useless, who they are.”

“You got a match?” Mickey asked. “I thought the lab- Candelle himself-said there wasn’t enough?”

“We’ve identified one of them. The fat guy. And in Known Associates on his sheet is a guy who lives two doors away from him in the Paschall Homes Project in Southwest Philly who fits the description of the other one.”

He stopped and looked at Washington.

“You brought the pictures for Mick?”

Washington nodded and went into his suit jacket, coming out with two Philadelphia Police mug shots. He handed them to O’Hara.

“Can you make either of them, Mick?” Wohl asked.

O’Hara looked carefully at both and then shook his head.

“As much as I’d like to, no,” O’Hara said. “It was dark, and as you may recall, the bastards took a shot at me.”

“No shit?” Mr. Colt inquired, awe in his voice.

“Anyway, the D.A. doesn’t think what we have is enough to convict them for sure. We need more-the weapon, for example. So we’re not going to arrest them right now.”

“Instead?”

“We’re going to keep them under surveillance until we can develop more. That’s the reason that Jason and I were still in Homicide when you called. We had everybody and his brother in there, setting up the surveillance…”

“And that’s why I was ever so politely booted out of there, right?” Mr. Colt inquired.

“Excuse me?” Wohl asked.

“When that captain sent Matt’s girlfriend to explain that other job to me…” He paused and made a pumping motion with his fist. “That was to get me out of Homicide, right?”

“I think one could reasonably draw that assumption, Mr. Colt,” Washington said.

“I would have been in the way, right?”

“And been privy to things we would rather not be known to the public,” Washington replied.

“Well, what the hell, we had a nice dinner, right?” Mr. Colt said.

“Very nice,” Matt said.

“Can I ask you a question, Mickey?” Mr. Colt inquired, and then went on without waiting for an answer. “How come you were at this Roy Rogers? Just a coincidence? You went there for a hamburger or whatever?”

“No. I responded to a possible armed-robbery-in-progress call, and I got there just as these bastards were leaving.”

“Explain that? You’ve got a police scanner? Right?”