Final Justice (Badge of Honor 8)

“Because he sent his lawyer to see me vis-a-vis copping a plea,” Matt said.

“Try to behave, Steve. We’re in the company of the only two cops in Philadelphia who say things like ‘vis-a-vis’ in normal conversation,” O’Hara said.

“Shut up, Mick. I want to hear about this lawyer,” Cohen said. “What did you say to him, Matt?”

“I told him I would give you-whoever Mrs. Solomon sent down here-his card.”

“That’s absolutely all?”

“That’s absolutely all.”

“No suggestions, anything, that I would be interested in a plea bargain?”

“Nothing. And the only reason I said I’d pass on his card was because Sergeant Kenny told him where to find me.”

“And Sergeant Kenny is who?”

“Local cop. A good one. Been very helpful.”

“And when and where did this conversation take place?” Cohen asked.

“At breakfast.”

“If he ran Matt down at the Nine Dollar No Tell Motel,” O’Hara said, “he must be really interested in copping a plea.”

“Actually, it was in the Marriott. We stayed there last night.”

“And got out before somebody arrived from Philadelphia who would wonder what you were doing in the Grand Hotel? And might talk?”

“ ‘The Grand Hotel’?” Washington asked.

“Marriott’s Grand Hotel. One of the stars in the galaxy of Marriott Resorts. When I told Stanley I was coming down here, he said to stay there. He said it’s great.”

“I have to ask, Matthew. You haven’t behaved inappropriately with Detective Lassiter down here, have you?” Washington said.

“Two rooms. She slept in her bed, I slept in mine.”

That’s the truth. Admittedly not all of it, but the truth.

“But you do have something going with her, right?” Mickey asked.

“Go to hell, Mick.”

“Answer Mr. O’Hara’s question, please,” Washington said.

“I thought for a while there might be something, but if there was, there ain’t no more.”

“While I confess I find this discussion of Matt’s sex life absolutely enthralling,” Cohen said, “can we get back to this guy’s lawyer? You said you’ve got his card, Matt?”

Matt found it and handed it to Cohen in the backseat.

“Do Philadelphia cell phones work down here?” he asked.

“Mine does,” Matt said, and handed Cohen his cellular telephone.

When Matt saw Sergeant Kenny standing beside a thirtyish man in a business suit in the tile-walled outer room of the Daphne police department, he was surprised to see how they resembled each other.

“I got to get a picture of that guy with you, Jason,” O’H