The Investigators Part 64

"How do you feel about this?" Matt asked. "We meet Jennie. She has the baby. I arrest her. We take the money-hers and yours-and turn it over to the FBI. Who you then lead to Chenowith's house. It seems to me that a good lawyer just might be able to convince a jury that the repentant sinner was really trying to make things right, and was a nice person, to boot. She didn't want to tell the FBI where Chenowith was until she was sure the other misguided innocent, Jennifer, and her appealing babe-in-arms, were safe from danger from both the wicked Chenowith and the n.o.ble forces of law and order. But once she was sure the-"

"I don't like you very much when you sound so cynical," Susan said.

"Oh, Jesus!"

"Sorry."

"While we were talking about this-you being repentant and wanting to make amends-the situation was unexpectedly brought to a crisis when Jennifer called, announced she wanted to get away, in fear of her life, from the monster Chenowith, and we had to act."

Susan looked at him, her lips pursed, for a long moment.

"How did we act?" she asked finally.

"I call Jack Matthews, and tell him I have to talk to him. He meets us in the restaurant. In Doylestown. While we are explaining to Jack how you have decided to do the right thing, Jennifer shows up-so far as Matthews is concerned-much earlier than she is supposed to. There is no time for Matthews to summon the Anti-Terrorist Group, or, for that matter, the local cops. We arrest Jennifer. You tell her not to say a word to anybody about anything until she's talked to a lawyer."

"She might not listen to me. As far as she is concerned, I will have betrayed her. Which is what I would have done."

"Get it through your head, G.o.dd.a.m.n it, that neither of you is going to walk on this. All we can do is cut our losses. If Jennifer insists on being a revolutionary heroine, that's her choice. And once she does that, you s.h.i.+ft into your save-my-own-a.s.s mode. Otherwise, you're going down the toilet with her."

"Maybe that's what's going to happen anyway," Susan said.

"What about us? Does this nutty b.i.t.c.h mean more to you than I do?"

She met his eyes, then shook her head.

"You know better than that," she said.

"There's something I think I should tell you," Matt said. "I was thinking about this too, watching that stupid cowboys-and-indians movie. And my solution to this problem-and I had d.a.m.ned near made the decision, before you knocked at the door-was to go out to your house, get your father out of bed, tell him all about the f.u.c.king mess you're in, and tell him that as far as I'm concerned, the best thing he can do for you is to convince you that your only chance to keep from going to jail for a long, long time is to go to the FBI right now and not only show them where Chenowith is, but cooperate with everything they ask you to do."

"You mean, without considering Jennifer and the baby at all?"

"Who's more important, what's more important? Us, or Jennifer?"

She looked into his eyes but said nothing.

"Honey, I don't want you to go to jail," Matt said. "I want to spend my life with you." His voice broke. "I love you, G.o.dd.a.m.n it!"

She touched his face.

"Oh, Matt!"

"Honey, I've been in women's prisons. Jesus Christ, I don't even want to think of you being in one of them."

"I don't want to go to prison," she said. "But I can't just-cut Jennifer loose. I just can't!"

"Even if it f.u.c.ks us up once and for all?"

"Can we at least try to help Jennie and her baby?" Susan asked.

"And if it doesn't work? And I have to tell you, I don't think it will."

"I would have tried," Susan said.

"Is it that important to you?"

She nodded.

"I wish it wasn't," she said.

"Okay," Matt said. "We'll give it a shot."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Lieutenant Daniel Justice, Jr., reputedly the smallest, and without question the most delicate-looking White s.h.i.+rt in the Philadelphia Police Department, was sitting at the lieutenant's desk in South Detectives when Detective Harry Cronin walked in.

"Danny the Judge," as he was universally known, was connected by blood and marriage to an astonis.h.i.+ng number of police officers, ranging from a deputy commissioner to a police officer six months out of the Academy. It was said that his mother needed help to raise her left wrist, on which she wore a charm bracelet with a miniature badge for each of her relatives on the job, including her husband, Detective Daniel Justice, Sr., Retired, known of course as "Big Danny."

The only scandal ever to taint the name of the Justice family occurred when "Danny the Judge," in hot pursuit of a sixteen-year-old car thief he had detected trying to break into an automobile, slipped on the ice and broke his wrist.

"To what do we owe the honor of your presence, Cronin, at this hour of the morning?" Danny the Judge asked.

"I need a favor, Lieutenant," Harry Cronin asked.

Danny the Judge could see in Cronin's face that whatever it was, it was important.

"What?" he asked.

"Call my wife and tell her I'm working," Harry Cronin said.

"Are you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Doing what?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd call my wife first, Lieutenant," Harry said.

Danny the Judge looked at him a moment, then consulted a typewritten list of the home phone numbers of all the detectives in South Detectives, found Cronin's number, and called it.

"Patty? Dan Justice. Harry asked me to call. He's on the job and can't tell right now when he'll get home."

There was a pause as Mrs. Cronin replied.

"Patty, I wouldn't do that. When I tell you Harry's on the job, he's on the job. As soon as he can find a minute, I'll have him call you himself."

Danny the Judge replaced the telephone in its cradle and looked at Detective Cronin.

"Okay, Harry. Tell me how you're really on the job."

"I think it would be best if you came with me, Lieutenant," Cronin said.

Danny the Judge rose from behind his desk-it was rumored that when he was seated behind the desk, his feet did not quite reach the floor-and followed Harry Cronin down to the parking lot and to Harry's Chevrolet.

In the backseat was a man wearing a too-small overcoat and handcuffs.

And what looked like nothing else.

Danny the Judge looked closer to confirm the nothing else.

"Who's this?"

"You have absolutely no reason to hold me against my will," the man wearing handcuffs and a too-small overcoat said without much conviction in his voice.

"His name is Ketcham, Ronald R."

"Really? Didn't you think that the Locate, Do Not Detain meant 'Do Not Detain'?"

"Sir?" Cronin asked. It was the first he'd heard of the Locate, Do Not Detain.

"Where're Mr. Ketcham's clothes?"

"I left them back there," Harry said.

"Where's 'there,' Harry?" Danny the Judge asked, a tone of impatience entering his voice.

"In the NIKE site," Harry said. "I found this guy, wearing nothing but the overcoat, locked up in one room, and his clothes in another."

"In the NIKE site? What the h.e.l.l were you doing in the NIKE site?"

"I had a gut feeling that there was something wrong in there," Harry said. "So I went and had a look, and there he was."

Danny the Judge looked at Mr. Ketcham.

"Mr. Ketcham, what were you doing in the NIKE site?"

"I'm not going to say a word until I have a chance to consult with my attorney."

"Yes, sir," Danny the Judge said and turned to Harry. "You left his clothes there?"

"Yes, sir. I went through them until I found his wallet. But I thought . . ."

"We'll be with you in just a minute, Mr. Ketcham," Danny the Judge said and closed the door of Harry's Chevrolet.

He signaled Harry to follow him back into the building.

"You know, Harry, right, that we have no authority inside that fence? It's federal property?"

"Yes, sir."

They entered the building, and Lieutenant Justice signaled to the trainee behind the gla.s.s window to open the door.

"Wait," he said to Harry, then went through the door, where he removed the clipboard from its peg and read the Locate, Do Not Detain on Ketcham, Ronald R. again.

He first thought he should call his brother-in-law the deputy commissioner. There was no question that what he had in his hands was shortly going to come to the attention of the upper echelons of the Philadelphia Police Department.

But the Locate, Do Not Detain-more than a little unusually-specifically ordered that ChInsp. Coughlin, Insp. Wohl and/or Sgt. Was.h.i.+ngton be notified immediately.

It had been Lieutenant Justice's experience that one got one's a.s.s a little less deep in a crack if one followed one's orders to the letter, rather than doing what seemed like the logical thing to do.

He turned to the sergeant on duty.

"You know what kind of a car Cronin drives?"

"Yes, sir."

"There's a man in the backseat. Get him out of there. Put him, alone, in a detention cell. A clean detention cell. Take the cuffs off him and get him a couple of blankets. Don't talk to him, and don't let him near a telephone."

"Yes, sir."

Taking the Locate, Do Not Detain with him, Danny the Judge left the office and motioned for Detective Cronin to follow him up the stairs.

He took a copy of the Philadelphia Daily News Daily News from the sergeant's desk, handed it to Cronin, and ushered him into the captain's office. from the sergeant's desk, handed it to Cronin, and ushered him into the captain's office.

"Read the newspaper, Harry," he ordered. "And stay in here. And don't talk to anybody."

"Yes, sir," Detective Cronin said. By now he had come to deeply regret having taken a look around the NIKE site.

Danny the Judge went back to the lieutenant's office, consulted the Locate, Do Not Detain, and dialed a number.

"Dan Justice at South, Chief," he said. "I hope I didn't wake you up?"

"How are you, Danny? How's Margaret?" Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin replied.

"Just fine, Chief. About that Locate, Do Not Detain on a man named Ketcham?"

"You found him?"

"Yes, sir. I just put him in a detention cell downstairs."

"It said 'do not detain,' Danny," Coughlin said.

"Chief, I think it might be a good idea if you came down here."