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“Liberties?” Payne asked, but it was more a statement.

Jason was nodding. Liberties Bar was the official watering hole of the Homicide Unit.

“I’ll buy,” Byrth said.

“I was expecting you to,” Matt said. “The best drinks are ones that someone else pays for.”

Byrth chuckled.

“I may even let you buy dinner,” Matt added.

“And maybe afterward we can swing by that flophouse?”

Payne looked to Washington for his input. He had not forgotten that when Jason had seen the image of the girl in the blue drum of sulfuric acid in that morning’s videoconference call, he had said it was horrific but that Matt’s priority was the McCain case.

Washington hadn’t forgotten either.

“Since Jim is devoting time to working these cases,” Jason said, “I believe it’s fair that you spend time on his. I have confidence in your ability to simultaneously chew gum and walk.”

Payne nodded as he pulled out his cell phone and sent a text message to O’Hara: “Liberties at 4.”

“Thank you, Jason,” Byrth said.

Payne’s phone vibrated. He looked and saw O’Hara’s reply.

“Mickey says he’ll be there in thirty.”

“I’ll try to catch up with you,” Washington said, checking his watch. “Denny has requested my presence. The mayor is dealing with Commissioner Gallagher.”

Payne looked at Byrth. “When Gallagher—the Commish—retired, Carlucci took the job. Like Hizzoner, the Commish is a cop’s cop.”

“He is a very good man,” Washington said.

Byrth nodded.

“So, what’s Gallagher’s problem?” Payne said.

“Does the name John Garvey ring a bell?”

Payne shook his head. “Should it?”

“And here I thought you knew everyone. Garvey was arrested this afternoon at PHL and just brought in. They put him in an interview room downstairs. Denny wants me to look in

with them as he’s being questioned.”

“What’s he charged with?”

“Drug smuggling.”

“John Garvey?” Payne said, clearly searching his memory.

“John Garvey,” Washington confirmed. “He’s in his mid-thirties. An architect-slash-historian. His specialty is restoration of historic buildings. He travels the world doing it. He looks like a well-dressed professor, a bookish type who would release a bug outside before squashing it in the house. I met him when my better half had me attend a museum function. I learned then that he’s married to the daughter of his boss, Harvey Rendolok.”

“A-ha!” Payne said. “Harvey, I know. Damn decent guy. Longtime member of the Union League. And his wife is running for judge. Needless to say, they’re big supporters of the military and police.”

“Right. And Harvey’s father-in-law is?”

Payne’s eyebrows went up as the connection was made.