Part 75 (1/2)
When there was no immediate response, Jesus put his hand to the knocker again.
McFadden, who was nearly a foot taller and seventy pounds heavier than Martinez, shouldered him aside.
”Cool it, Jesus, okay? Give him a second!”
At the moment the door opened, Detective Payne looked out the crack, saw Detectives McFadden and Martinez, said, ”Oh, s.h.i.+t!” and started to close the door.
Detective McFadden, in what was a Pavlovian response-he was accustomed to having people attempt to shut doors in his face-shoved his foot into the doorjamb and pushed against the door with his shoulder.
He didn't get it open, but neither did Detective Payne manage to close it.
They looked at each other through the crack.
”Can I come in or what?”
”Open the f.u.c.king door, Payne!” Jesus said.
Detective Payne shrugged, and opened the door.
”Surprise, surprise!” he said.
McFadden and Martinez walked through the door.
”What was that all about?” Charley asked, making reference to Matt's attempt to close the door in his face. And then he looked across the sitting room to the bedroom, and saw a d.a.m.ned good-looking female getting dressed. She was fastening her bra.s.siere; apparently she had not yet had time to put on her underpants.
”You son of a b.i.t.c.h!” Charley said, somewhat admiringly.
Matt went to the door to the bedroom and pulled it closed.
”I don't believe this. I honest to Christ don't believe this!” Jesus said.
”Sorry, Matt,” Charley said. ”What do you want us to do? Wait in the hall?”
”Why?” Matt said. ”The cat, so to speak, is out of the bag. Just tell your friend there if he says something out of line, I'll tear his leg off and shove it up his a.s.s.”
”Try it, hotshot!” Martinez said.
”Shut up, Jesus,” Charley said firmly. ”And keep it shut!”
”What's going on? What are you doing here?”
”Wohl sent us. Or maybe Chief Coughlin did. We got a warrant for Calhoun. . . . How long is-your friend-going to be in there?”
”She's about to leave,” Matt said.
”Why don't we wait until she does?” McFadden said.
Matt nodded and went into the bedroom.
Susan was zipping up her skirt. She looked frightened, on the edge of tears.
”They're two guys I work with . . .” Matt began.
”You could have closed the G.o.dd.a.m.n door!” Susan said, almost sobbed.
”Honey! I didn't know. . . .”
”What do they want?”
”They've got a warrant for a guy, the dirty cop, I've been watching.”
”I thought they'd come for me!”
”They don't even know who you are,” Matt said rea.s.suringly.
”Just some bimbo you spent the night with, right?” she said, trying to make a joke of it.
”Well, I could introduce you to them as my fiancee, I suppose,” Matt said, and then had a sobering thought. ”What I am going to do is introduce you as somebody else. How about 'Patricia Walsh'? How does that sound?”
She looked at him with a blank expression.
”Just trying to cover all the bases,” Matt said.
She went into the bathroom. He followed her and watched as she combed her hair and put on her lipstick.
”I'll call you at the office when I find out what's going on,” Matt said.
”They have a recorder on my telephone at the office,” Susan said.
”s.h.i.+t,” Matt said, furious with himself for not remembering that. ”Okay. Unless something happens, meet me downstairs at noon. We'll have lunch.”
”Not at the bank?”
”Downstairs,” he said. ”Honey, I didn't have any idea those two were going to show up here!”
She walked out of the bathroom past him and stopped by the side of the bed to slip her feet into her shoes.
Matt thought there was something delightfully graceful and feminine in the way she did that, standing on one leg at a time, and then he saw the briefcase half full of the money Bryan Chenowith had stolen from banks and had given Susan to hold for him where he'd put it, between the bedside table and the bed.
s.h.i.+t!
Susan finished putting on her shoes, smiled uneasily at him, walked to the door to the sitting room, and waited for him.
He walked to her.
”I love you,” Matt said.
”Oh, G.o.d!” Susan said, and put her hand up to touch his cheek.