Pekach chuckled, then said goodbye.

[FOUR] When Dr. and Mrs. Benjamin Solomon drove through the gate at Glengarry Lane, the macadam road to the house was lined with various models of Ford Crown Victoria automobiles. They were in Ben's Cadillac, as Eileen was wearing what she thought of as her Doctor's Wife hat.

But she could not leave her D.A.'s hat very far behind. In the new Ford Crown Victoria that followed the Cadillac into what was still known as the Peebles Estate, Detective Albert Unger of the District Attorney's Squad pushed his microphone button as he rolled past the gate.

"Radio, D-One."

"Go, D-One."

"At 606 Glengarry Lane in Chestnut Hill until further notice."

"Got it."

Philadelphia provides an unmarked detective-driven police car to its district attorney. The detective, of course, also serves as bodyguard to the D.A. Usually, this made sense, and it was nice to be picked up at the house and dropped off by a car. But sometimes-now, for example-it didn't.

There were going to be at least thirty-knowing Martha, probably more-police officers at 606 Glengarry Lane, all of them armed, and many senior enough to be accompanied by their own armed drivers. The person of the district attorney was going to be about as safe as it could be. And if something happened that required the immediate presence of the district attorney, any of the white shirts' unmarked cars would be available to take her there with siren howling.

But, because he went where she went, poor Al Unger would just have to hang around the car waiting for the radio to go off while the D.A. was at the party. He wouldn't be alone. Deputy Commissioner Coughlin's driver and the drivers of the other senior white shirts would also have to hang around waiting for their radios to go off. Martha Peebles Pekach would ensure, of course, that the caterer's waiters would make sure they were fed.

Eileen was not surprised-the weather was wonderful- that the party was being held outside the stables. Alexander Peebles's polo ponies were long gone, and the grass field where they had once played was ideal for an outside party.

Tables had been set up, and waiters moved among them serving drinks and steaks and Italian sausage from charcoal stoves.

Their hostess and her husband greeted them as they walked on the field.

"Sorry to be late, Ben had to work," Eileen said, hugging Martha Peebles.

"You're here, that's all that matters," Martha Peebles said. She kissed Dr. Solomon. "I put you with the Paynes," Martha went on, gesturing toward one of the tables.

"Guess who I got a postcard from?" Captain Pekach said.

"When you get a minute, I've got something to tell you about that," Eileen said.

"In a couple of minutes," Pekach said.

Eileen saw Ben smiling, and she saw why. Amelia A. Payne, M.D., was sitting with her parents. Ben not only would have someone to talk to-he really had little in common with the cops, or for that matter with Brewster C. Payne-and he and Amy Payne both liked each other and shared a disdain for some of their fellow healers at the University of Pennsylvania Medical School and many of UP's bureaucratic procedures, about which they could-and almost certainly would-talk at length.

Deputy Commissioner Coughlin and Brewster C. Payne got to their feet as the Solomons approached the table.

The men wordlessly shook hands. Eileen sat down beside Patricia Payne, and Ben sat down across the table beside Amy.

"Where's the birthday boy?" Eileen asked-and before Patricia could answer, dealt with the waiter. "Irish rocks for me. Diet Coke over there." She pointed at her husband, then added: "Make it a double. I've been a good girl all day."

"One for me, too, please," Patricia Payne said. "Not a double."

"Where isSergeant Payne?" Eileen asked.

Amelia A. Payne snorted.

"I guess you're thrilled, huh?" Eileen asked.

"Not really," Amy said, "truth to tell."

"Matt went into the house for something. He'll be back," Patricia said.

"Is it safe to say you're thrilled?" Eileen asked Patricia.

"Mixed emotions," Patricia replied. "Proud? Sure. Happy for Matt. Sure. But the badge the mayor pinned on him was his father's."

"Ouch," Eileen said. "They kept it all these years?"

"I had it. I thought it was the right-"

"It was," Eileen said, firmly.

"Mother Moffitt showed up at the ceremony," Amy said. "To cast her usual pall on things."

"Amy!" Patricia Payne said.

"Dave got another postcard from our fugitive," Coughlin said, obviously to get off the subject of Mother Moffitt.

"He told me," Eileen said. "There was something today… I'll tell you later, when I tell Dave."

"Am I permitted to ask? 'Our fugitive'?" Brewster Payne said.

"Isaac 'Fort' Festung," Eileen said.

"Oh, that chap."

"That despicable sonofabitch," Coughlin said, and added, immediately, "Forgive the French."

A waiter handed the district attorney a drink. She waited until Patricia Payne had hers, then touched glasses and took a healthy sip.

"To Sergeant Payne," she said.

"Thank you," Patricia Payne said.

"Denny, 'despicable sonofabitch' is an apt description of Fort Festung, so an apology for your language is not necessary, " Eileen said. "But if you're asking for a general pardon for our French brothers,I'm not about to forgive them."

There were chuckles and smiles.

"She's even stopped buying French perfume," Dr. Solomon said.

"See if you can enlist Patricia in your cause, Eileen," Brewster Payne said.

"What they should have done when he showed up in France-he entered France illegally, by the way, and was using a phony name, also illegal-was deport him on the next plane."

"Didn't that have something to do with the death penalty?" Patricia asked.

"That was their first excuse, but when that didn't wash- we didn't have the death penalty at the time of his trial; there was no way I could have sentenced him to death, as much as I might have liked to-they said they wouldn't let us extradite because he'd been triedin absentia."

"I thought the legislature took care of that, and guaranteed him a new trial if he asked for one." Brewster C. Payne said.

"They did. And we so informed the French. Now they're giving us some nonsense about the statute of limitations," Eileen said. "We're appealing that. We expect a decision on that tomorrow, and if it goes our way, we're back to Step One. In other words, we start asking all over again for his extradition. "

She stopped, suddenly becoming aware that two men were seeking her attention.

"And there's Dave Pekach waiting for me to tell him what I just told you," she said, nodding at Pekach, who was standing at the edge of the field. "Excuse me."

She got to her feet and turned to a waiter, "Medium rare," she ordered. "One piece of Italian sausage, a sliced tomato. No potatoes. I'll be back in five minutes, or less." She pointed at her husband. "That handsome gentleman will have the same."

She stood up, and walked to Pekach, and followed him into the stable. They walked almost to the end of it.

"Did I interrupt something important?" Pekach asked. "You and Denny Coughlin looked pretty serious."

"We were talking about Saint Isaac," Eileen said. "What did the new postcard say?"

"The usual. 'Having fine time, wish you were here. Best regards, Isaac.'"

"The arrogant sonofabitch!" the district attorney said, and then went on: "I had a call-Tony Casio did-from the State Department today…"

"I have the feeling I'm about to hear something I shouldn't," Matt Payne said, coming into the passageway from inside one of the stalls.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" Pekach asked, curiously.

"I'm gone," Matt said. "Sorry."

"Stay," Eileen said. "There's no reason you shouldn't hear this. Maybe you should."