Final Justice (Badge of Honor 8)

“Perhaps after we check into the hotel,” Washington said. “Mick’s made reservations for us at the Marriott. Is that where you are?”

“No, sir,” Matt said, looking smugly at Olivia. “We’re in the Eight Dollar Motel right in Daphne. Detective Lassiter thought the Marriott was a little too rich for us.”

“Actually, it’s the Nine Dollar Inn, Sergeant,” Detective Lassiter corrected him.

“Actually, it’s the $37.50 motel, after you pay up front and they give you the AAA discount,” Matt said. “But what the hell.”

They collected their luggage and went to the Hertz counter, where a Lincoln Town Car awaited Mr. Michael J. O’Hara.

“I think the best way to handle this, Detective,” Washington said, “would be for Sergeant Payne to drive us in Mr. O’Hara’s car. En route, he can fill us in on what we should know. In the meantime, you could go to the police station, advise them of our arrival, and tell them we are anxious to speak with the chief at his earliest convenience.”

“Yes, sir,” Detective Lassiter said.

Matt handed her the keys to the Mustang.

“Thank you,” she said with a somewhat brittle smile.

The Mustang stayed on the tail of the Lincoln all the way from the airport through Mobile, across the I-10 bridge over Mobile Bay, and into Daphne, where it turned off U.S. 98 at the Joseph Hall Criminal Justice Center.

En route, as Washington intended he should, Matt told them everything he thought they should know. He pointed out the Gambino Motor Mall, and told them he had spoken with the proprietor, and that Fats had shown him the Peterbilt truck Mr. Daniels had driven into Mobile.

“I called the chief, and he said he just got a search warrant for the truck from a judge in Mobile, but he thought he’d wait until I could go along before he had a look.”

“You didn’t enter the vehicle?” Washington asked.

“No.”

“Good,” Cohen said.

“He certainly had to fuel the truck somewhere,” Washington said, thoughtfully. “If he did so in Philadelphia and used a credit card, that would establish his presence there. On his way down here, as careful as we must presume he is, he probably paid cash. But he may not have had that much cash, and he may have used a card. It’s worth looking into.”

“Yes, sir,” Matt said.

“I’ve got to have a picture of that truck,” Mickey said. “How do I find my way back here?”

“After we have accepted the chief’s kind invitation to witness his search of the vehicle, I will arrange something with Detective Lassiter to get you back here,” Washington said.

“I’d like a picture of you two searching the truck,” Mickey said.

“Sergeant Payne and I have had quite enough personal publicity lately, thank you just the same, Michael.”

“There is good publicity and bad publicity, Jason,” Mickey said, “and you two could certainly use some of the good kind.”

“If you’ll pardon me, Michael, what I am trying to do is develop a variety of good reasons that will suggest to Mr. Daniels that denial of his participation is no longer one of his options.”

“That may be easier than you think, Jason.”

“You will remember, Sergeant, to address me as ‘Lieutenant’ when we are about our official business?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, beware! Beware!” Mickey said. “What we have here is the Black Buddha in a bad mood. Cheap seats a little too small for you in the beam, were they, Lieutenant?”

Cohen laughed.

Washington ignored the remark.

“Why will I find it less difficult to reason with Mr. Daniels vis-a-vis confessing all that you-with your vast experience in these matters-think will be the case?”