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“This is Inspector Wohl,” Peter said.

“Yes, sir?”

“Would you please tell Lieutenant DelRaye that I will bring Miss Dutton there, to Homicide, at eight in the morning?”

“Yes, sir. Is there any place Lieutenant DelRaye can reach you?”

Wohl hung up, and then stood up, and started to spread sheets over the leather cushions.

The telephone rang. He watched it. On the third ring, there was a click, and he could faintly hear the recorded message: “You can leave a message for Peter Wohl after the beep.”

The machine beeped.

“Inspector, this is Lieutenant DelRaye. Will you please call me as soon as you can? I’m at the Roundhouse.”

It was evident from the tone of Lieutenant DelRaye’s voice that he was more than a little annoyed, and that leaving a polite message had required some effort.

Peter finished making a bed of the couch, took off his shoes and socks, and lay down on it. He turned off the light, and went to sleep listening to the sound of the water running in his shower, his mind’s eye filled with the images of Louise Dutton’s body as she showered.

****

When Police Commissioner Taddeus Czernick, trailed by Sergeant Jank Jankowitz, walked briskly across the lobby of the Roundhouse toward the elevator, it was quarter past eight. He was surprised therefore to see Colonel J. Dunlop Mawson hurrying to catch up with him. He would have laid odds that Colonel J. Dunlop Mawson never cracked an eyelid before half past nine in the morning.

“How are you, Colonel?” Czernick said, smiling and offering his hand. “What gets you out of bed at this unholy hour?”

“Actually, Ted,” J. Dunlop Mawson said, “I’m here to see you.”

They were at the elevator; there was nothing Commissioner Czernick could do to keep Mawson from getting on with him.

“Colonel,” Czernick said, smiling and touching Mawson’s arm, “you have really caught me at a bad time.”

“This is important, or else I wouldn’t bother you,” Mawson said.

“I just came from seeing Arthur Nelson,” Commissioner Czernick said. “You heard what happened to his son?”

“Yes, indeed,” Mawson said. “Tragic, shocking.”

“I wanted to both offer my personal condolences,” Commissioner Czernick said, and then interrupted himself, as the elevator door opened. “After you, Colonel.”

They walked down the curving corridor together. There were smiles and murmurs of “Commissioner” from people in the corridor. They reached the commissioner’s private door. Jankowitz quickly put a key to it, and opened it and held it open.

Commissioner Czernick looked at Mawson.

“I can give you two minutes, right now, Colonel,” he said. “You understand the situation, I’m sure. Maybe later today? Or, better yet, what about lunch tomorrow? I’ll even buy.”

“Two minutes will be fine,” Mawson said.

Czernick smiled. “Then come in. I’ll really give you five,” he said. “You can hardly drink a cup of coffee in two minutes. Black, right?”

“Thank you, black.”

“Doughnut?”

“Please.”

Commissioner Czernick nodded at Sergeant Jankowitz and he went to fetch the coffee.

“I have been retained to represent Miss Louise Dutton,” Colonel J. Dunlop Mawson said.