Part 75 (2/2)
Matt opened the door and motioned for her to precede him through it.
”Pat,” he said. ”This is Detective McFadden and Detective Martinez. This is Patricia Walsh.”
”I'm happy to meet you, Pat,” McFadden said, and smiled.
”How do you do?” Susan said.
Martinez said nothing.
Matt led Susan to the door to the corridor and opened it.
She looked up at him and then kissed him, rather chastely, on the lips.
”I'll see you later,” Matt said.
Susan nodded and went out into the corridor. Matt closed the door after her.
”Very nice, Matt,” McFadden said. ”Sorry we walked-”
”s.h.i.+t,” Martinez said.
”What's with you?” McFadden snapped.
”I'm not sure if you're trying to cover for your buddy, or just stupid.”
”What are you talking about?” McFadden asked, genuinely confused.
”Patricia Walsh, my a.s.s! That was Susan Reynolds!”
”Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” McFadden exclaimed in an exhale.
”What do you know about Susan Reynolds?” Matt asked Martinez.
”Wohl briefed us just before he sent us up here,” McFadden said. ”We know all about her.”
”You're supposed to be surveilling her, not f.u.c.king her!” Martinez said. ”I can't believe this. Not even from you, hotshot!”
Matt looked at Charley McFadden.
”Charley, it's not like that. I'm not just . . . f.u.c.king her!”
”What were you doing in there, then?” Martinez said. ”Making another f.u.c.king bomb?”
Matt, his fist balled, took two quick steps toward Martinez.
McFadden, moving with surprising speed, stepped between them and put his hands on Matt's shoulders.
”Cool it, Matt!” he ordered.
He maintained the pressure of his ma.s.sive hands on Matt's shoulders until he felt him relax, then let him go and turned to Martinez.
”What Wohl told us, Jesus, was that we have nothing to do with what Matt's doing for the FBI. He said he was only telling us about that, those people, so that we wouldn't f.u.c.k it up by saying something, doing something, that might f.u.c.k up what he's he's doing.” doing.”
”What he's doing is-”
”Whatever he's doing is none of our f.u.c.king business, okay?” McFadden interrupted him.
Martinez shrugged.
”We're here to do what Wohl told us to do, and nothing more. You got that?”
”I hear what you're saying, Charley.”
McFadden looked at his watch.
”It's ten minutes after seven. You're meeting this Lieutenant . . . whatsisname?”
”Deitrich,” Matt furnished.
”At eight, right? Where?”
”Here.”
”That gives us fifty minutes,” McFadden said. ”That ought to be enough time for us to tell you what's been going down. And to have breakfast. I'm starved.”
”I think it would be better if we ate up here,” Matt said. ”What do you feel like eating?”
”I've been up all night. I could eat a f.u.c.king horse,” Charley said.
”I don't think they have any horse,” Matt said. ”But they do a nice breakfast steak.”
”Sounds good.”
”Martinez?” Matt asked.
Martinez shrugged.
Matt picked up the telephone and ordered the Penn-Harris steak and eggs breakfast for two, and an extra-large pot of coffee.
”Good morning, Mr. Savarese. This is Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin of the Philadelphia Police Department. I hope I didn't call too early.”
”What's on your mind, Mr. Coughlin?”
”I think it's quite important that we have a talk, Mr. Savarese, at your earliest convenience.”
<script>