Part 61 (2/2)
He thought about it a minute, then decided he would not call Denny Coughlin and ask him what it was all about.
Paragraph 11.B. of the Unspoken Rules required that, in a situation like this, he make inquiries of the senior White s.h.i.+rt whose name he had, to avoid putting the subordinates on the spot about what to tell him. Denny Coughlin would tell him, of course. But that would use up a favor, and Mickey liked to have Denny Coughlin in his debt, rather than the other way around.
So Mickey didn't call Chief Inspector Coughlin, but instead filed Ronald R. Ketcham away in a corner of his mind, to be retained until he heard something else.
Officer Tommy O'Mara put his head into Captain Michael Sabara's office.
”Sir, there's a civilian who wants to talk to you.”
”To me, personally?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Did this civilian say what he wants?”
”No, sir.”
Sabara picked up the telephone, punched the flas.h.i.+ng b.u.t.ton, and, somewhat impatiently announced: ”This is Captain Sabara. How can I help you?”
”My name is Phil-Philip-Chason, Captain. Does that ring a bell?”
Sabara quickly searched his memory.
”I'm afraid not, Mr. Chason. How may I help you?”
”I was with you last night, Captain, at Captain Beidermann's retirement party. I was hoping you'd remember.”
”Oh, of course,” Sabara lied kindly. ”My memory is failing.”
”I used to be a detective,” Chason said. ”I went out on medical disability after twenty-six years on the job.”
”How can I help you, Mr. Chason?”
”Karl and I went to the Academy together. I just found out that he meant it when he told us last night he was going to Florida in the morning. Otherwise, I would have gone to him.”
”Oh?”
”I've stumbled onto something that bothers me. And I don't want to go to Narcotics with it. Or Major Crimes. Or Intelligence.”
”Stumbled onto what?” Sabara asked, a trifle impatiently.
”I was hoping you'd have fifteen minutes to hear me out.”
”This concerns Narcotics? This is Special Operations, we don't deal-”
”Narcotics and the mob,” Phil said. ”I really think I wouldn't be wasting your time.”
”You want to see me now, is that it?”
”I'd like to, yes.”
”You know where I am?”
”Frankford and Castor?”
”Right. I'll be expecting you.”
”Thank you.”
Sabara hung up and then raised his voice: ”Tommy!”
Officer O'Mara appeared.
”Just for your general information, Officer O'Mara, that unnamed civilian who called me has a name.”
”Yes, sir?”
”His name is Chason,” Sabara said. ”And he's coming to see me. When he comes in, bring him right in.”
”Yes, sir.”
”Mr. Chason is actually Detective Chason, Retired, Tommy.”
”Yes, sir?”
”Do you know where your father was last night, Tommy?”
”Yes, sir. He was at Captain Beidermann's retirement party. They were cla.s.smates at the Academy.”
”Then your father was also a cla.s.smate of Detective Chason, Tommy. And he was also at Captain Beidermann's retirement policy. Now, don't you think you could have at least picked up a little bit of that information regarding Detective Chason before you told me a nameless civilian was on the phone?”
Officer O'Mara considered that.
”Yes, sir. I suppose I should have.”
”Good boy!” Sabara said.
”Thank you, sir,” Officer O'Mara said, pleased to have been complimented.
”Thank you for seeing me, Captain,” Phil said when Officer O'Mara-after telling Chason who his father was, and that he understood they were Academy cla.s.smates-had taken him into Sabara's office.
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