“You made a big impression on me back then.”
“Good or bad?” Wohl asked.
“At the time I thought it was treason,” Kelvin said, smiling. “You spilled your wheel, and I went to help you pick it up, and you said, ‘Anybody who rides one of these and likes it is out of his fucking mind.’”
“I said that?”
“Yes, you did,” Kelvin said, chuckling, “and you meant it.”
“Well, under the circumstances, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around telling that story.”
“Like I said, that was a long time ago, and you’ll notice that I am now riding a desk myself. You don’t spill many desks.”
“I’ve found that
you can get in more trouble riding a desk than you can a wheel,” Wohl said. “Did anything turn up on the abduction?”
“No, sir,” Kelvin said. “Chief Coughlin called a couple of minutes ago and asked the same thing.”
“Did he want me to call him back?”
“No, sir, he didn’t. He asked that you call him in the morning.”
“Anything else?”
“Sergeant Frizell said to tell you that your driver took the vehicle and radio requisition forms home to fill out,” Kelvin said. When Wohl looked at him curiously, Kelvin explained. “Frizell said he didn’t like the typewriter here.”
Wohl nodded. He understood about the typewriters. It was generally agreed that the only decent typewriters in the Police Department were in the offices of Inspectors, full Inspectors, and up.
“He’s a nice kid,” Wohl said. “Just out of the Academy. He is—was?—how do you say this? Dutch Moffitt was his uncle.”
“Oh,” Kelvin said. “I heard that Chief Coughlin sent him over, but I didn’t get the connections.”
“Chief Coughlin also sent over the two Narcotics plainclothesmen who found Gerald Vincent Gallagher,” Wohl said. “Until I decide what to do with Payne, I’m going to have him follow them around, and make himself useful in here. He’s not really my driver.”
“You’re entitled to a driver,” Kelvin said. “Hell, Captain Moffitt had a driver. It may not have been authorized, but no one said anything to him about it.”
“Did Captain Sabara? Have a driver, I mean?”
“No, sir,” Kelvin said. “After Captain Moffitt was killed, and Sabara took over, he drove himself.”
“Every cop driving a supervisor around is a cop that could be on the streets,” Wohl said. “Matt Payne is nowhere near ready to go on the streets.”
Kelvin nodded his understanding.
“Jason Washington called. Homicide detective? You know him?”
“Special Operations,” Wohl corrected him. “He transferred in today.”
“He didn’t mention that,” Kelvin said. “He called in and asked that you get in touch when you have time to talk to him.”
“Where is he?”
“He said he was having dinner in the Old Ale House.”
“Call him, please, Jack, and tell him that when he finishes his dinner, I’ll be here for the next hour or so.”
“Yes, sir,” Kelvin said. “Captain Sabara left word that he’s going to work the First and Second District roll calls for volunteers, and then go home. Captain Pekach left word that he’s going to have dinner and then ride around, and that he’ll more than likely be in here sometime tonight.”