“Still no idea who these animals are?” Coughlin asked.
Harris shook his head, “no.”
“The police artist’s stuff is just about useless,” Harris said. “Everybody saw somebody else. We’re going to have to have a tip, or make them with a fingerprint.”
Coughlin shook his head.
“One question, Tony. I want the answer off the top of your head. How would you feel about having Sergeant Payne in Homicide?”
Harris chuckled, then smiled.
“I heard The List was out,” he said. “Good for you, Matt!”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Tony,” Coughlin said.
“Welcome, welcome!” Tony said.
“I should have known better than to try that,” Coughlin said. “In law school, they teach you never to ask a question to somebody on the stand unless you know what the answer’s going to be.”
“Commissioner, you asked,” Harris said. “What’s wrong with Matt coming to Homicide?”
“He’s too young, for one thing. He hasn’t been on the job long enough, for another. I can go on.”
“He’s also smart,” Harris said. “And he’s a stone-under-the — stone turner. I didn’t wonder why this bastard didn’t shoot Kenny in the head, or lower back. Matt already thinks like the Black Buddha. The other stuff, we can teach him.”
Coughlin snorted.
“And he’s going to make a good witness on the stand,” Harris said. “Think about that.”
“I’ll be damned,” Coughlin said. “For a moment, I thought- I guess, to be honest, hoped-you were pulling my leg. But you’re serious, aren’t you?”
Tony Harris nodded his head. “I thought you’d be all for him coming to Homicide,” he said.
Coughlin looked between the two of them but didn’t respond directly.
After a moment, he asked, “Are you about finished here, Tony?”
“Just about.”
“I need a ride to the Roundhouse.”
“My pleasure.”
“Matt’s going to Easton on a job I gave Peter Wohl and Peter gave to Matt,” Coughlin said. “And he’d better get going.”
“What job’s that?” Harris asked.
“One of those I’d rather not talk about,” Coughlin said, looking at Matt. “But the sooner you know something, Matt, the better.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“You sore at me, Matt?” Coughlin said.
“I could never be sore at you,” Matt said.
Coughlin met his eyes and then nodded.
Then he pushed himself out of the banquette.