"And he's found some, I gather?"

"There's going to be a meeting in Carlucci's office at half past nine. There's a couple of things supposed to happen before then."

"What kind of things?"

"Jesus, Harry, don't you understand 'no questions'?"

"Sorry, I'm just trying to be useful. You say Coughlin sent a Highway car after you?"

"Nice try," Callis said. "Yeah, Coughlin sent a Highway car for me. Period, that's all I can give you now. When the meeting is over, I'll probably be able to tell you what's going on."

"Okay."

"Now let me finish my shave and get a fresh shirt."

"Nothing I can do right now?"

"Not a thing," Callis said.

Harry had almost made it to the door when Callis had another thought, tangentially connected with the Five Squad.

"Harry?" he called.

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell Phebus I'll want to see him sometime this morning. I don't give a d.a.m.n what else he's got on his plate, I want him around here this morning where I can lay my hands on him in ten seconds. Capisce Capisce?"

"Yes, sir."

"If he asks why, tell him I want to know what's going on with the Leslie case."

"Yes, sir."

a.s.sistant District Attorney Hormel went immediately to the office of a.s.sistant District Attorney Anton C. Phebus. He had not yet come to work.

He walked back down the corridor thirty minutes later and found that Mr. Phebus had come to work, and to judge by the briefcase in his hand was about to leave it.

"Where are you headed?"

"For a conference with the G.o.dd.a.m.ned Nun."

"What does she want?"

"Haven't the faintest. Some deal, certainly. She's determined to see that Leslie gets no more than a slap on the wrist."

"Well, you're going to have to postpone it."

"Why?"> "Because Tony said he wants you around here all morning where he can lay his hands on you in ten seconds."

"Did he say why?"

"He said he wants to talk to you about the Leslie case. He's in his Mr. Super-DA-Man role. Coughlin, he announced like a happy child, had sent a Highway car for him in the middle of the night, and he's on his way to a meeting in the mayor's office."

"What's that all about?"

"He said something about dirty cops, but what I think it is, is that he thinks Carlucci is liable to ask him about the Leslie case."

Anton C. Phebus, who was not a stupid man, felt a sudden pain in the pit of his stomach.

"Okay," he said. "I hear and obey."

As soon as Hormel had left his office, he called the G.o.dd.a.m.ned Nun's office and left a message for her to the effect that an emergency situation had arisen that would preclude his meeting with her as scheduled. He would call her later in the day and attempt to schedule another meeting at a mutually convenient time.

Then he dialed the home telephone number of Officer Joe Grider. Mrs. Grider informed him that Joe hadn't come home yet.

He dialed the home number of Officer Herbert Prasko, and there was no answer. He remembered that Prasko's wife had a job, which would explain why n.o.body answered the phone, particularly if Prasko, like Grider, had worked until the wee hours and then had a couple of belts afterward. There wasn't much sense-unless all you wanted to do was sleep-in going home if the old lady was out working.

There was one way of finding out for sure, of course. Call the Narcotics Unit and talk to somebody and find out what had happened the previous night. He dialed the number of the Narcotics Unit, but changed his mind and hung up before it was answered.

He was letting his imagination run away with him. He had thought this whole thing through very carefully. Nothing had gone wrong because nothing could go wrong.

"Well, good morning!" Vice President James C. Chase of the First Harrisburg Bank & Trust Company cried cheerfully when he saw Lieutenant Paul Deitrich and Detective Matt Payne walk into his outer office. "You wanted to see me?"

"We'd appreciate a few minutes of your time, Mr. Chase," Deitrich said.

"Anytime, Paul, you know that," Chase said. "Come on in."

They went into the inner office.

"Actually, Matt," Chase said, "I was hoping to catch you before you went across the floor. Our Mr. Hausmann is back from Boston, and we're going to have to find you another desk somewhere."

"I won't be needing a desk anymore, Mr. Chase," Matt said.

Chase picked up on something in Matt's voice, or perhaps his demeanor.

"That sounds, forgive me, a little ominous, Matt. Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so, sir," Matt said. "I'm afraid I was right when I thought I saw someone I recognized going into the safe-deposit area yesterday, Mr. Chase."

"But Adelaide, Mrs. Worner, had no record-"

"We just arrested him, Mr. Chase," Matt said. "On charges of misprision of office as a Philadelphia police officer. We have reason to believe that Mrs. Worner has been making a safe-deposit box available to him off the records."

"That's hard to accept," Chase said, somewhat coldly. "Paul?"

"We could, of course, be wrong, Mr. Chase," Deitrich said. "But I don't think so."

"To what end? You're not trying to tell me Adelaide could possibly have any involvement with a call girl ring in Philadelphia?"

"We believe the box is being used to hold money-and maybe drugs-acquired illegally by Philadelphia police officers," Matt said.

"And maybe drugs drugs?" Chase quoted, horrified. "And you've come equipped with a search warrant, is that what you're telling me?"

"No, sir," Deitrich said. "We don't have a search warrant, Mr. Chase. We can get one, but we're hoping that won't be necessary."

"Well, certainly-as I'm sure you understand, Lieutenant-I can't permit you access to a safe-deposit box without one."

"We're hoping that we can get Mrs. Worner to show us which box it is, and give us the key to it, without our having to get a search warrant," Matt said.

"If she has been up to what you're suggesting, Matt, why would she do that? I must tell you, I find this entire-"

"I don't think Mrs. Worner really knew what she was doing, Mr. Chase," Deitrich said. "I don't know how familiar you are with her personal situation . . ."

"I know that she has had a very difficult time with her husband, if that's what you mean. And that he is a highly decorated, grievously wounded-"

"We think she has been used, Mr. Chase," Matt said. "I can't really believe there will be much interest in putting her in prison. Providing, of course, she comes to understand the mess she's in, and cooperates."

"Used by whom?" Chase asked coldly.

"Her across-the-backyard neighbor," Deitrich said. "Who is the uncle of the police officer now under arrest."

"You're suggesting that she's . . . that they're involved? Personally, I mean?"

"It looks that way, Mr. Chase," Deitrich said.

Chase considered that a moment.

"The poor woman," he said, and then shifted into his banker's role: "Exactly what is it you want from me? How is the bank involved in this?"

"We just learned-we left a car watching her house; they got on the radio-that she is in her car, and apparently on her way here, to work," Deitrich said.

"You mean she's not here now?"

"I suppose she's come in late today," Matt said.

Chase gave him a dirty look. This tragic situation was obviously not the place for levity.

"When she comes in, Mr. Chase," Matt said, "we'd like to talk to her here, in your office."

"To what end?" Chase demanded coldly.

"Detective Payne thinks," Deitrich picked up on Chase's annoyance with Matt and answered for him, "and I agree, that when she sees us here, and knows that we know, she'll give us what we want."

"I just can't believe this of Adelaide."

"Frankly, I feel sorry for her," Deitrich said. "I hope that she sees that the only thing for her to do is admit that she's done something really foolish, and tries to help us straighten it out."

"And the alternative?"

"We're prepared to arrest her on suspicion of receiving stolen property," Matt said. "Other charges are possible."

"You're going to arrest her, here, now, right in the bank?"

"If that becomes necessary, yes, sir," Matt said.

"And once you arrest her, then what?"

"We'll interview her. Ask for her cooperation. If she's unwilling to cooperate, then we'll get a search warrant for the safe-deposit box."

"No judge will give you-no judge should give you, it wouldn't be fair to our customers-a warrant to go into every safe-deposit box in the bank."

"No, sir," Matt said. "But I'm sure I can get a judge to give me one requiring the bank to give me access to every unrented safe-deposit box. I think that's what Mrs. Worner has done, permit Calhoun to use an unrented box. Or maybe she's got a box, and she's letting him use hers. But I think we'll find we're talking about an unrented box."

Chase looked at him coldly, then at Deitrich, and then back at Matt.

"And what you hope I'll do-this is it, isn't it?-is that I'll talk to her."

"That would be in everybody's best interests, Mr. Chase," Dietrich said.

"Yes, I suppose it would," Chase said thoughtfully, and sighed audibly. "We'll have to let her go, of course. The bank simply cannot tolerate-"

"There she is," Deitrich said softly, gesturing through the gla.s.s wall to the wide lobby.

Mrs. Adelaide Worner was pulling at the k.n.o.b of a door marked "Employees Only" to make sure that she had closed it well. Then she started to walk across the polished marble floor of the bank lobby toward the safe-deposit-box vault.

She was plain, gray-haired, and a little plump. But there were vestiges of what probably had been above-average youthful beauty.

She looks, Matt thought, Matt thought, like somebody who sings in a church choir. like somebody who sings in a church choir.

Chase stepped to his door and opened it, and leaned over his secretary's desk to say something very quietly to her.

"I don't like this part of the job very much," Lieutenant Deitrich said softly.

Chase's secretary got up from her desk and walked across the lobby after Mrs. Worner. A moment later, they both came out of the safe-deposit-vault entrance and started across the lobby.

Chase stood in the door between his desk and his outer office and waited for them.

"Good morning, Adelaide," he said.

"Good morning, Mr. Chase."

"Would you step into my office, please? These gentlemen want to have a word with you."

"Mr. Chase," Mrs. Worner said. "I can't tell you how sorry, how ashamed, I am to have involved the bank in this."