“I know it’s not much,” Matt said. “But if anybody was looking for you,
they wouldn’t look for you here. And there’s a rent-a-cop downstairs twenty-four hours a day. And it’s just going to sit here, empty.”
“Jesus, Payne,” Milham said. “That’s very nice of you, but…”
“Why not?” Matt said. “I mean, really, why not?”
“I told you you were among friends, Mrs. Kellog,” Wohl said. “I think it’s a good idea.”
“I just don’t know,” she said, and started to sniffle.
“I think you should, honey,” Milham said.
“OK. It’s settled,” Matt said.
“Thank you very much,” Helene said, formally. “Just for a few days.”
“Wally, you take her to get her things, and then come back here,” Wohl ordered.
“Right,” Milham said, and then, quickly, as if he was afraid she would change her mind, “Come on, honey. Let’s go.”
“If I’m not here when you get back, I’ll leave a key with the rent-a-cop,” Matt said.
Helene looked at him.
“Wally was right,” she said. “He said you were a very nice guy.”
When they had gone down the stairs, and heard the door close after them, Wohl said, “That was nice of you, Matt.”
“Christ, they can’t afford living in a motel,” Matt said.
“And won’t your mother be pleasantly surprised to have you at home?” Wohl asked drolly. He stood up and went to the telephone and dialed a number.
“Inspector Wohl for the Chief,” he said a moment later, and then: “Chief, I promised to let you know if anything interesting happened. The Widow Kellog got a death threat—specifically, ‘Keep your mouth shut, or you’ll get the same thing as your husband,’ or words to that effect embroidered with obscenity—last night.”
The outraged, familiar voice of Chief Inspector Lowenstein could be heard all over the kitchen: “I’ll be goddamned! Where is she?”
“With Detective Milham. He took her to fetch some clothing. Matt Payne offered her his apartment to stay in.”
“That really burns me up,” Lowenstein said, unnecessarily adding, “what happened to her. That was nice of Payne. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going, first of all, to have someone sit on her. Discreetly.”
“Your people?”
“My people, and since we’re going to have to do this around the clock, I’d like to borrow one of yours for as long as this lasts.”
“Who?”
“McFadden. He was here, at Payne’s apartment, when this came up.”
“Northwest Detectives? That McFadden? The one who took down Dutch Moffitt’s murderer?”
“That McFadden.”
“OK. He’s yours. I’ll call Northwest Detectives.”
“Thank you. And then I’m going to give this to Weisbach and Washington. What I would like to know is who told Narcotics Five Squad that she’d talked to Washington.”