Part 66 (1/2)

”What do you mean, 'who tipped me'? I was on my way home, Denny, for some well deserved rest, when what do I hear on the radio? You're coming here. Peter Wohl is coming here. So I figured, what the h.e.l.l, I'd come down here, we'd all have a cup of coffee, chew the rag a little-”

”Chew the rag a little about what, for example?”

”For example, why did you put the arm out for Mr. Ronald R. Ketcham?”

”Ronald R. Ketcham? I don't seem to recall the name.”

”And why, if it was a Locate, Do Not Detain, did he wind up in a holding cell?”

”A holding cell?”

”Wearing nothing but an overcoat.”

”Mickey, you have your choice between me throwing you out of here myself, or agreeing to really sit on this one. And that may mean permanently sitting on it. Now and forever.”

”You got a deal, Denny.”

”I'll fill you in later,” Coughlin said. ”I don't want to miss any of this.”

He waved O'Hara into the small room with the one-way mirror adjacent to the interview room. There Mr. O'Hara found Inspector Peter Wohl; Amelia Payne, M.D.; Mr. Walter Davis, Special Agent in Charge of the Philadelphia office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation; a well-dressed individual Mr. O'Hara correctly guessed was also in the employ of the FBI; and Lieutenant Daniel Justice.

Through the one-way mirror, he saw Sergeant Jason Was.h.i.+ngton and a distraught-looking man sitting in a chair wearing nothing but a blanket around his shoulders.

Mickey waved a cheerful h.e.l.lo.

The FBI agent Mickey didn't recognize looked confused.

Mr. Davis of the FBI looked very uncomfortable, as did Danny the Judge.

Dr. Payne smiled at him absently, her attention devoted to what was going on on the other side of the mirror.

Inspector Wohl smiled in recognition and resignation.

Mickey helped himself to a cup of coffee, then sat down, backward, in a wooden chair and watched Sergeant Was.h.i.+ngton interviewing Mr. Ketcham.

TWENTY-ONE.

”I could use another cup of coffee, Mr. Ketcham, how about you?” Sergeant Jason Was.h.i.+ngton inquired of Mr. Ronald R. Ketcham. could use another cup of coffee, Mr. Ketcham, how about you?” Sergeant Jason Was.h.i.+ngton inquired of Mr. Ronald R. Ketcham.

”What I want is my clothes,” Ketcham replied.

”Well, I certainly understand that,” Was.h.i.+ngton said. ”And they should be here by now. I'll check. Cream and sugar?”

”Black, please,” Ketcham said.

Was.h.i.+ngton left the interview room, and closed the door after him. Ketcham, who had seen enough cops-and-robbers movies to suspect that he might be under observation by persons on the other side of the mirror, tried very hard to look righteously indignant, rather than uncomfortable.

Was.h.i.+ngton stuck his head into the room on the other side of the mirror, and motioned for everyone to come into the main office.

As Michael J. O'Hara pa.s.sed through the door, Was.h.i.+ngton draped his ma.s.sive arm around Mickey's shoulders.

”You will understand, old friend,” Was.h.i.+ngton said ”why my usual joy at seeing your smiling face is tempered by the circ.u.mstances.”

”How goes it, Jason?” Mickey O'Hara replied.

”Mickey, sit in there for a minute, will you?” Chief Inspector Coughlin said, indicating Captain Henry Quaire's office. ”Amy, you keep him company.”

Mr. O'Hara and Dr. Payne went into Quaire's office. Chief Coughlin closed the door after them.

”You didn't get much, did you, Sergeant Was.h.i.+ngton?” Mr. Walter Davis of the Federal Bureau of Investigation asked.

”If we are to believe Mr. Ketcham, which I find difficult to do,” Jason replied, ”he was abducted, in what he believes to be a case of mistaken ident.i.ty, from the garage of his home by persons unknown.”

Inspector Wohl chuckled.

”Letting your imagination soar, Jason, what do you think happened?”

”I would hazard a guess that Mr. Ketcham has no idea who transported him to the NIKE site, beyond a deep suspicion that it has something to do with his trafficking in controlled substances,” Was.h.i.+ngton said. ”About which, of course, he is understandably reluctant to talk. That position, I would think, is b.u.t.tressed by his being aware that he was not in possession of any narcotics at the time of his abduction.”

”Put it together for me, Jason,” Chief Coughlin said.

”I have several tentative theories,” Was.h.i.+ngton said. ”We have these facts: Mr. Ketcham was involved with Miss Longwood. To what degree we do not know. There was a telephone call to Dr. Payne at the hospital-the language of which was not consistent with the vocabulary of the caller-which alleged . . .”

He consulted a pocket notebook: ”. . . that 'Cynthia Longwood was stripped naked and orally raped by a policeman under circ.u.mstances that were themselves traumatic.' Dr. Payne believes this is consistent with Miss Longwood's physical condition. The question then becomes, Who made the telephone call to Dr. Payne, and how did he come into possession of the knowledge of the rape?”

”Vincenzo Savarese,” Mr. Walter Davis said.

Sergeant Was.h.i.+ngton looked at Mr. Davis in such a manner as to make clear he did not like to be interrupted, then went on: ”I think it is reasonable to believe that Mr. Savarese, whose deep concern for his granddaughter has been made obvious, wondered if her gentleman acquaintance, Mr. Ketcham, might have information bearing on the situation. We must keep in mind here that Mr. Savarese had to move carefully. His relations.h.i.+p to Miss Longwood has been carefully concealed, and if Mr. Ketcham was not involved in the a.s.sault . . .”

Wohl and Coughlin grunted, accepting Was.h.i.+ngton's theory.

”I think it bears on the equation,” Was.h.i.+ngton went on, ”that Mr. Ketcham has not come to the attention of either Intelligence or the Drug Unit. Neither by name or by physical description. It is possible that Mr. Savarese's contacts on the street, or within the drug community, came up with his name, but I have the feeling that was not the case, and even if it was, his acquiring that knowledge would have been after Miss Longwood required medical attention.”

”Okay,” Coughlin agreed.

”But it is reasonable to a.s.sume that Mr. Savarese heard-probably from his daughter-that his granddaughter was involved with a man named Ketcham.”

”Yeah,” Wohl said.

”Mr. Savarese naturally wondered, I theorize,” Was.h.i.+ngton went on, ”if perhaps Mr. Ketcham had knowledge of the cause of Miss Longwood's mental stress. Even, perhaps, if Mr. Ketcham forced himself on his granddaughter. Dr. Payne told Peter that Mr. Ketcham had not been to see Miss Longwood. It seems reasonable that Mr. Savarese would have learned this, too, from the girl's mother.”

”And had Joey Fiorello,” Coughlin interjected, ”hire Phil Chason to make discreet inquiries regarding Mr. Ketcham . . .”

”Which discreet inquiries,” Peter Wohl chimed in, ”re vealed exactly what kind of an upstanding citizen Ketcham is. And Chason told Fiorello.”

”Precisely,” Was.h.i.+ngton said. ”What I don't understand, since we may presume it did come to Mr. Savarese's attention that his granddaughter was keeping company with someone who uses controlled substances-and probably introduced her to the use of them-is why Mr. Ketcham is not, to use that lovely euphemism, 'swimming with the fishes.' ”