"I didn't know that," Wohl confessed.
"They don't do a bad job, either," Matt said, gesturing toward the Porsche.
Wisdom from the mouth of babes, Wohl thought. One is supposed to never be too old to learn.
"So I see," Wohl said.
Payne took off his linen jacket, and then rolled up the sleeves of his light blue button-down collar shirt. Then he extended his can of car polish toward Wohl.
"You want to do a fender, or the hood, with this? Then you could really tell."
"Thebonnet," Wohl said. "On a Jaguar the hood is thebonnet. And thank you, no."
Matt opened the hood of his rear-engined Porsche, which was of course the trunk, and took out a package of cheese cloth.
Why don't I spend the two bucks? Instead of using old T-shirts? Except when I can't find an old T-shirt and have to use a towel that costs more than two bucks?
"So how is life treating you, Matt?" Wohl asked.
"I thought you would never ask," Matt said. "The good news is that I won six thousand bucks, actually sixty-seven hundred, in Las Vegas, and the bad news is that the IRS gets their share."
He is not pulling my leg. Jesus Christ, six thousand dollars! Nearer seven!
"What were you doing in Las Vegas?"
"I was sent out there to bring Penny Detweiler home from the funny farm."
That was a surprising announcement, and Wohl wondered aloud: "How did you get time off?"
"Ostensibly, I was helping with the paperwork in Chief Lowenstein' s office. That is the official version."
"Start from the beginning," Wohl said.
Payne examined a layer of polish he had just applied to the front of the Porsche before replying. Then he looked at Wohl.
"My father asked me to meet him for drinks. When I got there, Denny Coughlin was there. They asked me how I would like to go to Nevada and bring Penny home, and I said I would love that, but unfortunately, I couldn't get the time off. Then Uncle Denny said, ' That's been taken care of,' and Dad said, 'Here's your tickets.'"
I wonder what Matt Lowenstein thought about that? Not to mention Matt's sergeant, lieutenant, and captain in EDD.
"They won't hassle you in East Detectives, Matt, if that's what you're worrying about. That couldn't have happened without Chief Lowenstein knowing about it, ordering it. Your response should be the classic 'mine not to reason why, mine but to do what I'm told.'"
"I'm not worried about East Detectives. What I'm wondering about is how you feel about me coming back to Special Operations."
Shit! That's disappointing. I didn't think he'd ask to get transferred back. I thought he was smart enough to know that would be a lousy idea, and I didn't think he would impose on our friendship for a favor. Helping him out of a jam is one thing, doing something for him that would be blatant special treatment is something entirely different. But, on the other hand, the only thing he's known since he' s joined the Department is special treatment.
"Matt," Wohl said carefully. "I think your coming back to Special Operations would be, at the very least, ill-advised. And let me clear the air between us. I'm a little disappointed that you can't see that, and even more disappointed that you would ask."
Wohl saw on Matt's face that what he had said had stung. He hated that. But he had said what had to be said.
Matt bent over the front of the Porsche and applied wax to another two square feet. Then he straightened and looked at Wohl again.
"Well, I suspected that I might not be welcomed like the prodigal returning to the fold, but just to clear the air between us, Inspector, I didn't ask to come back. You or anybody else. I was told to report to Chief Lowenstein's office at half past one yesterday, and when I got there, a sergeant told me to clean out my locker in East and report to Special Operations Monday morning."
"Goddammit!"Wohl exploded.
"I could resign, I suppose. Suicide seems a bit more than the situation calls for," Matt said.
"You can knock off the 'Inspector' crap. I apologize for thinking what I was thinking. I should have known better."