“Matt,” Chase said, as if he had just thought of this.
“How long do you think you’ll be here?”
Matt smiled.
“Until I either get what I came for, or know that it was never here in the first place.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Penn-Harris.”
“That’s the best
place. Room all right?”
“Very nice, sir.”
“Good. Do you play golf?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you like me to call out to River View and get you a guest card?”
“That’s very kind, sir. But a friend’s father, Mr. Reynolds, already did that for me.”
“Tom Reynolds?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, in that case, I won’t have to ask what was going to be my next question.”
“Sir?”
“Which was going to be, ‘Would you like me to see if I couldn’t find a nice girl to introduce you to?’ ”
Matt chuckled.
“That won’t be necessary, sir. But thank you very much.”
Chase touched Matt’s shoulder and walked back to his office.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee, Mr. Payne?” Dolores asked.
“That would be very nice,” Matt said. “And may I use the phone?”
“Of course. Just make yourself comfortable.”
She waved in the direction of Hausmann’s desk. Matt walked into the office, settled himself in the comfortable green leather high-backed chair, took a look at a silver-framed photograph presumably of Mr. and Mrs. Hausmann and the four little Hausmanns, and then reached into the credenza behind the desk for the Harrisburg telephone book.
He found what he was looking for and dialed the number. He had to go through a switchboard, but in less than a minute, he heard:
“Appeals, Reynolds.”
“My, don’t we sound businesslike? I’m sure, hearing that no-nonsense voice, that the taxpayers of Pennsylvania are getting a good day’s work for a fair day’s pay out of you.”
“Oh, God! What do you want?”
“There are several things on my mind, actually.”