“Hello?”
“Who is this?”
“Who’s this?”
“This is Inspector Wohl. Who’s that, McFadden?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Everything under control, McFadden?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is Officer Payne there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Put him on, please.”
“He’s asleep, Inspector.”
“Then I suppose it will be necessary to wake him up, won’t it?”
“Yes, sir. Sir, is anything wrong?”
“No. Not at all. The world, Officer McFadden, is getting, day by day, in every way, better and better. You might keep that in mind.”
“Yes, sir. Hold on, Inspector. I’ll go wake Payne up.”
Officer McFadden had some difficulty in waking Officer Payne. Officer Payne had consumed pitchers of FOP beer like a sponge earlier on. He now smelled like a brewery.
“Jesus Christ, Matt, wake up! Wohl’s on the phone!”
Officer Payne managed to get into a semireclining position in his bed.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded. He looked up at the time projected on the ceiling by the clock Amy had given him. “It’s three o’clock in the morning, for Christ’s sake!” he protested.
“Wohl’s on the phone.”
“What the hell does he want?”
“I don’t know. He sounds crocked.”
“Jesus!”
Officer Payne, with some difficulty, finally managed to make it from a semireclining to a fully sitting-up position. Officer McFadden then removed the handset of the newly installed telephone and handed it to him.
“Yes, sir?” Matt said.
“Sorry to trouble you at this late hour, Officer Payne,” Inspector Wohl said, his syllables sufficiently slurred to remind Officer Payne that Officer McFadden had said, “He sounds crocked.”
“No problem, sir.”
“But I have to have an an
swer to a certain question that has come up.”
“Yes, sir.”