“Well, I don’t have to be a psychiatrist to know that your being a policeman is tearing Mother up!”
“But your being a shrink makes it easier, right?”
The telephone rang. Matt picked it up.
“Dr. Payne’s Looney-Bin, Matt the Castrated speaking.”
“Peter Wohl, Matt,” his caller identified himself.
Oh, shit! Those two bastards in the highway RPC sure didn’t lose any time squealing on me!
And, oh, Jesus, what I just said!
“Yes, sir?”
Amy looked at him curiously. The phrase “yes, sir” was not ordinarily in his vocabulary.
“That was an interesting way to answer your phone,” Peter Wohl said.
“Sir,” Matt said, lamely. “My sister is here. We were having a little argument.”
“Actually, that’s what I called you about. You did mean your sister the psychiatrist?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jason Washington was just in to see me. He didn’t turn up anything useful interviewing Miss Flannery. I’m sort of clutching at straws. In other words, I was hoping that your offer to talk to your sister was valid.”
“Yes, sir, of course. I’m sure she’d be happy to speak with you.”
“Who is that?” Amy asked in a loud whisper. Matt held up his hand to silence her, which had the exact opposite reaction. “Who is that?” Amy repeated, louder this time.
“I’m talking about now, Matt,” Wohl said.
“Yes, sir,” Matt said. “Now would be fine.”
“I suppose you’ve eaten?”
“Sir?”
“I asked, have you had dinner?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, then, why don’t I pick you up, and we’ll get a little something to eat, and I can speak with her. Would that be too much of an imposition on such short notice?”
“Not at all, sir.”
“You live in the 3800 block of Walnut, right?”
“No, sir. I’ve moved. I’m now on Rittenhouse Square, South, in the Delaware Valley Cancer Society Building—”
“I know where it is.”
“In the attic, sir. Ring the button that says ‘Superintendent’ in the lobby.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Wohl said. “Thank you.”
The phone went dead.