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“You and me lock wrists, McFadden,” Coughlin ordered. “I don’t think Martinez could handle Matt.”

“Hey. I’m not a cripple. I can manage,” Matt said, standing on his good leg and waving the crutch. “I’ve got to learn to use this thing anyway.”

Coughlin looked doubtful, but finally walked to Martinez.

“Park that wherever you can find a place,” he ordered.

Matt, with Charley McFadden hovering around him, made his way to the elevator door, where Malone was waiting. He pushed the button to open the door, waited for Matt and McFadden to get in, and then joined them. When the door started to close, Matt leaned against the elevator wall, and then stuck his crutch into the opening, holding the door open.

Coughlin walked quickly to the door and then stopped.

“You got room for one more?” he asked.

“The more the merrier,” Matt said.

Coughlin got in. The door closed.

Sergeant Carter was on the third-floor landing when the door opened.

He saluted Coughlin.

“Good morning, Chief,” he said, and then nodded at Malone. “Lieutenant.”

“Carter, isn’t it?” Coughlin said, offering his hand.

“Yes, sir. I was here, checking the arrangements, and Mrs. Payne—she and your father are in your apartment, Payne—said you would be coming. So I thought I had better wait.”

“Everything seems to be all right. The rent-a-cop in the garage is one of ours, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. And we have a man in the lobby, downstairs, in a Holmes uniform.”

“I see a problem,” Matt said. “Getting up those stairs.”

They all turned to look at the flight of stairs leading up to the attic apartment. They were steep and narrow.

“We could put a rope around your neck and haul you up,” McFadden said cheerfully. “Or you could get on my back and I could carry you up piggyback.”

“Or,” Matt said, handing McFadden the crutch, “I can do this.”

He sat down on the stairs, and then, using his arms and one good leg, started pushing himself up the stairs.

Thirty seconds later, he turned to see how far he had to go and found himself looking at the hem of a woman’s slip and skirt. He craned his neck and identified the woman.

“I didn’t know shrinks made house calls,” he said.

“Only when the patient is an unquestioned danger to himself,” Amelia Payne, M.D., said without missing a beat. “To judge by the way you did that, you’ve had some practice scuttling along like a crab.” She turned and called, “Sound the trumpet. Our hero is home.”

“Amy!” Patricia Payne said.

Matt got to his feet, and leaned against the wall at the head of the stairs.

“Where’s your crutch?” Patricia Payne asked.

“Here,” McFadden said, coming up the stairs and handing it to him. He stuck it under his arm and made it to the couch. His mother leaned over and kissed him.

“You all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Hi, Dad.”