“For Christ’s sake,” she said. “The address has been in the papers ...”
“And so has your name,” he countered.
“I’ve seen the papers,” she said. “There must be ten Louise Duttons in the phone book, and none of the papers I saw made the connection between me and here. If it is made, every creepy-crawly in Philadelphia, including, probably, the animals who killed that poor little man, will come out of the woodwork looking for me.”
“Why should that bother you? Aren’t you under police protection?”
“What does that mean?”
“Just what it sounded like. I called the Homicide guy, DelRaye, Lieutenant DelRaye, when I couldn’t find you, and he said that I would have to talk to Inspector Wohl, that Wohl was ‘taking care of you.’ “
“I am not under police protection,” she said, evenly. “I’ll tell you what I will do, Leonard. I’ll look at what you have on tape, and if there’s anything there that makes it worthwhile, I’ll do a voice-over. But I am not going to chat pleasantly with Barton Ellison about it on camera.”
“Okay,” Leonard Cohen replied. “Thank you ever so much. Your dedication to journalism touches me deeply. Who’s Wohl?”
“He’s a cop. He’s a friend of mine. He’s a nice guy,” Louise said.
“He’s the youngest staff inspector in the police department,” Cohen said. “He was also the youngest captain. His father is a retired chief inspector, which may or may not have had something to do with his being the youngest captain and staff inspector. What he usually does is investigate corruption in high places. He put the head of the plumber’s local, two fairly important Mafiosi, and the director of the Housing Authority in the pokey just before you came to town.”
She looked at him, her eyebrows raised again.
“Very bright young man,” Cohen went on. “He normally doesn’t schmooze people. I’m sure, you being a professional journalist and all, that you have considered the police department may have a reason for assigning an attractive young bachelor to schmooze you.”
“You find him attractive, Leonard, is that what you’re saying?” Louise asked innocently. “I’ll have to tell him.”
His lips tightened momentarily, but he didn’t back off.
“You’re going to see him again, huh?”
“Oh, God, Leonard, I hope so,” Louise said. “He’s absolutely marvelous in the sack!” She waited until his eyes widened. “Put that in your file, too, why don’t you?” she added, and then walked away.
TEN
Colonel J. Dunlop Mawson was sitting on the sill of a wall of windows that provided a view of lower Market Street, the Delaware River and the bridge to New Jersey.
“So, I went down to Homicide,” he said, nearing the end of his story, “and finally got to meet Miss Wells, also known as Dutton.”
“Where had she been?” Brewster Payne asked. Mawson had aroused his curiosity. Through the entire recital of having been given a runaround by the police, and the gory details of the brutal murder of Jerome Nelson, he had not been able to guess why Mawson was telling it all to him.
“She wouldn’t tell me,” Mawson said. “She’s a very feisty young woman, Brewster. I think she was on the edge of telling me to butt out.”
“How extraordinary,” Payne said, dryly, “that she would even consider refusing the services of ‘Philadelphia’s most distinguished practitioner of criminal law.’”
“I knew damned well I made a mistake telling you that,” Mawson said. “Now I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Probably not,” Payne agreed.
“I have an interesting theory,” Mawson said, “that she spent the night with the cop.”
“Miss Dutton? And which cop would that be, Mawson?” Payne asked.
“Inspector Wohl,” Mawson said. “He took her away from the apartment, and then he brought her in in the morning.”
“I thought, for a moment, that you were suggesting there was something romantic, or whatever, between them,” Payne said.
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Mawson said. “He’s not what comes to mind when you say ‘cop.’ Or ‘inspector.’ For one thing he’s young, and very bright, and well dressed . . . polished if you take my meaning.”
“Perhaps they’re friends,” Payne said. “When he heard what had happened, he came to be a friend.”