The Murderers (Badge of Honor 6)

The kitchen door swung open.

“I thought maybe you’d need some more coffee,” Sarah Lowenstein said a little nervously.

“You still got that stuff you bought to get rid of the rats?” Chief Lowenstein said. “Put two heaping tablespoons, three, in Jerry’s cup.”

“You two have been friends so long,” Sarah said. “It’s not right that you should fight.”

“Tell him, Sarah,” the Mayor said. “I am the spirit of reasonableness and conciliation.”

“Four tablespoons, honey,” Chief Lowenstein said.

TWELVE

Brewster Cortland Payne II had stopped in a service station on City Line Avenue and called his home. Mrs. Newman had told him there had been no call from Violet, the Detweiler maid, telling him to which hospital Penny had been taken.

If she hadn’t been taken to a hospital, he reasoned, there was a chance that the situation wasn’t as bad as initially reported; that Penny might have been unconscious—that sometimes happened when drugs were involved—rather than, as Violet had reported, “gone,” and had regained consciousness.If that had happened, Dick Detweiler would have been reluctant to have her taken to a hospital; she could be cared for at home by Dr. Dotson, the family physician, or Amy Payne, M.D., and the incident could be kept quiet.

He got back behind the wheel of the Buick station wagon and drove to West Chestnut Hill Avenue.

He realized the moment he drove through the open gates of the estate that the hope that things weren’t as bad as reported had been wishful thinking. There was an ambulance and two police cars parked in front of the house, and a third car, unmarked, but from its black-walled tires and battered appearance almost certainly a police car, pulled in behind him as he was getting out of the station wagon.

The driver got out. Payne saw that he was a police captain.

“Excuse me, sir,” the Captain called to him as Payne started up the stairs to the patio.

Payne stopped and turned.

“I’m Captain O’Connor. Northwest Detectives. May I ask who you are, sir?”

“My name is Payne. I am Mr. Detweiler’s attorney.”

“We’ve got a pretty unpleasant situation here, Mr. Payne,” O’Connor said, offering Payne his hand.

“Just how bad is it?”

“About as bad as it can get, I’m afraid,” O’Connor said, and tilted his head toward the patio.

Payne looked and for the first time saw the blanket-covered body on the stretcher.

“Oh, God!”

“Mr. Payne, Chief Inspector Coughlin is on his way here. Do you happen to know…?”

“I know the Chief,” Payne said softly.

“I don’t have any of the details myself,” O’Connor said. “But I’d like to suggest that you…”

“I’m going to see my client, Captain,” Payne said, softly but firmly. “Unless there is some reason…?”

“I’d guess he’s in the house, sir,” O’Connor said.

“Thank you,” Payne said, and turned and walked onto the patio. The door was closed but unlocked. Payne walked through it and started to cross the foyer. Then he stopped and picked up a telephone mounted in a small alcove beside the door.

He dialed a number from memory.

“Nesfoods International. Good morning.”

“Let me have the Chief of Security, please,” he said.