“Sergeant D’Angelo.”
“You know a Sergeant D’Angelo, Inspector?” McFadden asked Wohl.
“Yeah. Let him in.”
“Be right down,” McFadden said, and went down the stairs.
The face that first appeared at the head of the stairwell a moment later was that of the Hon. Jerry Carlucci, mayor of the City of Brotherly Love. He was followed by a burly, curly-haired man in his late twenties.
“I didn’t know anybody lived up here,” the mayor thought aloud, and nodded at the occupant, Officer Payne, as he looked around.
“What the hell is this all about, Peter?” he asked.
“Chief Lowenstein said he would be here at four,” Wohl said. “He must have been delayed.”
“That’s not what I asked,” the mayor said, but he did not pursue the question. He looked at Matt.
“How’s your leg, son?”
“Pretty good, sir. Thank you.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any coffee?”
“I can make some in just a minute,” Matt said, and started to get out of his leather armchair.
“Al, make coffee,” the mayor ordered.
Sergeant D’Angelo went into the kitchen.
“Coffee’s in the cabinet right over the machine,” Matt called.
“Got it,” D’Angelo called back.
The telephone rang.
“Hello?” Matt answered it.
“Chief Lowenstein. Is Carlucci there?”
“Mr. Mayor,” Matt said. “Chief Lowenstein for you, sir.”
Carlucci snatched the phone from Payne’s hand.
“Lowenstein, what the hell’s going on?…
“How did that happen?…
“I’ll be damned,” he said, and hung up.
He looked at Wohl.
“That was Lowenstein. He’s at the district attorney’s. That’s why he’s late.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Samuel Goldblatt just identified from photographs all of the doers of the Goldblatt job, and is prepared to go before the Grand Jury on Monday. And, and, get this: Tom Callis just called Giacomo, as a professional courtesy, and informed him he will personally prosecute.”
“That’s good news, sir,” Wohl said.