The Investigators (Badge of Honor 7)

He went into his bedside table for his revolver, slipped it into a waist holster, and leaned down to kiss her.

“If I can’t get back here, I’ll call you,” he said.

The kiss she gave him was considerably less enthusiastic than the previous kiss had been.

And then he was gone.

She didn’t move for several minutes, during which time she heard the sound of his car door opening and closing, the sound of his engine starting, and then of the car driving away.

Then she reached for the telephone book on the shelf under the bedside table, started to thumb through it, and realized there was probably a quicker way to get the information she needed, plus directions on how to get there.

She dialed the telephone.

“Police radio.”

“Could you give me the address of South Detectives, please?”

“Is there some way I can help you, ma’am?” the female voice countered.

“This is Dr. Payne, of University Hospital,” Amy said. “I just got a call asking me to meet Chief Inspector Coughlin at South Detectives. I need to know where it is and the best way to get there?”

“You’re at University Hospital, Doctor? Could you give me the number?”

“I’m at the residence of Inspector Wohl,” Amy said. “The number here is . . .”

The police radio operator decided the call was legitimate. She had, within the past five minutes, received calls from both Chief Inspector Coughlin and Inspector Wohl announcing they were en route to South Detectives, and she knew the number the caller had given was that of the official residence telephone of Inspector Wohl.

She gave Dr. Payne what was in her opinion the quickest way to get from the 800 Block of Norwood Street in Chestnut Hill to South Detectives at this hour of the morning.

“Do you want me to tell Chief Coughlin you’re on your way, Doctor?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Amy said. “He knows I’ll get there as soon as I can. Thank you very much.”

Amy hung up and got out of bed and started to get dressed.

The police radio operator opened her microphone.

“Isaac Three.”

“Go ahead.”

“Chief, I just spoke with Dr. Payne. She’s en route to South Detectives.”

“Give me that again?”

“Dr. Payne is en route to South Detectives.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Chief Coughlin said and dropped the microphone on the seat of his car. And added, “Oh, shit!”

Sergeant Leonard Moskowitz of South Detectives had figured that he owed Mickey O’Hara a big one since the previous December, when Mickey had arranged for a photograph of his eldest son, Stanley, at his bar mitzvah at Temple Israel to be prominently displayed in the society section of the Bulletin.

This might not entirely repay Mickey for his kindness, but it would be at least a down payment.

“O’Hara,” Mickey answered his telephone somewhat sleepily.

“Lenny Moskowitz. I didn’t call you.”

“What didn’t you say when you didn’t call me?”