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“In a bar in Roxborough. Specifically, in the back of a bar in Roxborough.”

“Oh, honey!”

“I was right on the edge of taking him to a hospital. God, he looked awful. But I managed to get him to go home. I put him to bed. I just hope he stays there.”

“Does Inspector Wohl know?”

He shook his head no.

“Well, maybe with all this—”

“He won’t find out? You underestimate Peter Wohl.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Drunks don’t really reform until they hit bottom. Tony’s pretty close to the bottom. Maybe I should have left him there and let him face Wohl. Maybe that would straighten him out.”

“You know you couldn’t do that.”

“No,” he agreed.

“The picture’s in the spare bedroom.”

“You really want to take it to the hospital?”

“If it will make him feel better, why not?”

When Jason and Martha Washington got off the elevator carrying the oil painting of the naked voluptuous lady, Jason found that Officer Matthew M. Payne had, in addition to the two uniformed cops guarding his door, other visitors, none of whom he was, in the circumstances, pleased to see.

Chief Inspector Matt Lowenstein and Staff Inspector Peter Wohl were standing in the corridor outside Matt’s room, in conversation with a tall, angular man wearing a tweed jacket, a trench coat, gray flannel slacks, loafers, and the reserved collar affected by members of the clergy.

Lowenstein had seen them; there was no option of getting back on the elevator.

“Chief,” Jason said.

“I’m glad you’re here. I was about to suggest to Inspector Wohl that we try to find you,” Lowenstein said, then changed his tone of voice from business to social: “Hello, Martha. It’s been a long time.”

“How are you, Chief Lowenstein?” Martha asked, giving him her hand.

“Reverend Coyle, may I introduce some other friends of Matt Payne’s? Detective and Mrs. Jason Washington.”

“That’s Sergeant Washington, Chief,” Wohl corrected him. “How are you, Martha?”

“Christ,” Lowenstein said. “That’s right, I forgot. Well, let me then be among the last to congratulate you, Jason.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” the Reverend H. Wadsworth Coyle said, enthusiastically pumping their hands in turn.

“Reverend Coyle,” Lowenstein said, “has been telling us that he was Matt’s spiritual adviser at Episcopal Academy—”

“Yes, indeed,” Coyle interrupted him. “And just as soon as I heard of this terrible, terrible accident, I—”

“—so perhaps you had better explain what that picture is you’re carrying,” Lowenstein concluded.

Wohl looked amused.

“Inspector Wohl has one very much like this, Reverend.” Martha Washington replied, “which Matt admires. He asked me to see if I could find him one as much like it as possible, and I have. I thought it might cheer him up.”

Wohl no longer looked amused, but Lowenstein did.