"That'll be hard to do after McFadden handcuffs him to that brass rail."

"Hey… It's Matt, right?"

"Right."

"I'm meeting you halfway, Matt. He's shot two hundred pictures since we got here, and the only one that'll do me any good is this one."

"Excuse me?"

"The real press doesn't give a shit about one more picture of me shaking hands with a mayor, or even a cardinal. But Stan Colt with areal Homicide sergeant, that's news. Come on. Get out and smile."

"I don't want my picture in the goddamn newspapers."

"Tough shit. Either now, or he follows us around all night."

He paused, then did a very creditable mimicry of Matt: "Your call, Sergeant Payne."

Matt got out of the car.

"Look serious, but think of pussy," Mr. Colt whispered to Sergeant Payne as, following Eddie the photographer's hand signals, he moved Matt where Eddie wanted them.

Inside the Grand Ballroom of the Bellvue-Stratford, Sergeant Payne hurried to answer Commissioner Mariani's summons, a crooked finger.

"Yes, sir?"

"Colt just told the mayor how grateful he is for the opportunity to, quote, hang out, unquote, with you."

"Yes, sir?"

"What are you going to do with him?"

"I thought I'd show him Liberties Bar and, if nobody from Homicide is there, take him to Homicide."

"And if somebody from Homicide is in Liberties?"

"Hope I can get them talking about closed cases."

Commissioner Mariani nodded.

When they saw that Sergeant Payne and Mr. Colt had gotten into the Crown Victoria, two white-capped Traffic Unit uniforms stopped traffic moving in both directions on South Broad Street, and then one of them gestured to Sergeant Payne, who then made a U-turn that saw him headed toward City Hall.

The traffic uniforms then blew their whistles and gestured, restoring traffic to its normal flow, and incidentally effectively preventing anyone from following Matt's unmarked car.

"Thanks, guys!" Detective McFadden called to the uniforms, and gave a thumbs-up gesture.

Detectives McFadden and Martinez then got into their unmarked cars and drove off. The members of the press who were cleverly prepared to follow them, did so. They followed Martinez to the Ritz-Carlton front door, where he parked his car and went inside to await the return of Sergeant Payne and Mr. Colt, or the arrival at midnight of Detective McFadden, whichever came first.

The members of the press who followed Detective McFadden drove deep into South Philadelphia, where he pulled the unmarked half onto the curb in front of a row house on Fitzgerald Street, then went inside to catch a couple of hours' sleep before relieving Hay-zus at the Ritz-Carlton.

"Aren't I going to stand out like a sore thumb in this?" Mr. Colt inquired of Sergeant Payne, indicating his dinner jacket. "Maybe we could stop by the hotel and let me change?"

"Not at all," Matt said. "We're going to Liberties Bar, and the last time I was there, my boss was there, dressed just like that."

"You're bullshitting me, right?"

"Boy Scout's Honor," Matt said.

"Were you a Boy Scout?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I was."

"Me, too," Colt said. "Well, what the hell."

He pulled open his black bow tie.

There were no members of the Homicide Division in Liberties Bar.

"We can wait a couple of minutes and see if somebody shows up," Matt said.

"I will have one of three drinks I allow myself a day," Colt said. "This will be number two; I had a beer at the hotel."

"Youallow yourself three drinks a day?" Matt asked.

"If I have more than that, I get in trouble," Colt said. "Sometimes, I have four, if like I have one at lunch and a beer in the afternoon, then I might have two at night, but never any more than that."

They had a drink. Matt ordered a scotch on the rocks, Colt-at Matt's suggestion-a Bushmills martini, aka an Irish Doctor's Special.

When the bartender delivered them, he looked closely at Colt.

"Anybody ever tell you you look a lot like Stan Colt?"

"Yeah. Lots of people."

"Any of the guys from Homicide been in?" Matt asked.

"Earlier," the bartender said.

Colt looked at Matt.

"You get stuck with the tab," he said. "Alex has my dough, and you didn't want him to come."

Matt laid a bill on the bar.

"I'll get that back to you."

"My pleasure," Matt said. "Alex is not here."

Colt took a sip of his drink.

"I like this," he said.

"Good."

"So what's the plan now? You 'sit on' me here? Nobody from Homicide shows up? Eventually I get sleepy? And-"

"Finish your drink, we'll take a run past Homicide," Matt said.

"Good," Stan Colt said.

"Nice," Stan Colt said, vis-a-vis Detective Olivia Lassiter, who was sitting at a desk with a phone to her ear.

"Very," Matt agreed.

He saw that Captain Quaire and Lieutenant Jason Washington were in Quaire's office.

"Detective Lassiter, this is Mr. Colt," Matt said.

Olivia gave him her hand and a smile, but didn't say anything.

"What's going on in there?" Matt asked.

Olivia shrugged. "They both came in about an hour ago."

She started to add something to that, but then directed her attention to the telephone: "Good evening, Lieutenant. Thank you for taking my call. My name is Lassiter, Philadelphia Homicide, and I'm working a job…"

Matt took Colt's arm and propelled him toward the coffee machine.

"And she's a Homicide detective, too?" Colt asked.

Matt nodded.

"She's been on that phone most of day," Matt said. "Calling every police department in the country, looking for a similar job to one we're working on here."

"The one you were working on before you were told to sit on me?"

Matt nodded. "It's a rape murder. Real sicko. Ties young women up, cuts off their clothes with a large knife, and then… jerks off… onto them."

"Jesus!"

"And then takes their picture. This time, he killed the victim. "

"And you don't know who he is?"

"We haven't a clue. If we ever find him-that's what Lassiter is doing on the phone; other detectives are looking down other streets-we can probably get a conviction. But first we have to find him."

Colt's face was serious as he absorbed this.

"I have to check in with my boss," Matt said, pointing at Quaire's glass-walled office. "I'll be right back."

"I'll talk to her," Colt said. "Take your time."

And then he saw something on Matt's face.

"Do I detect that your interest in the lady detective is not entirely professional?"

"I'll be right back," Matt said, and walked to Captain Quaire's office and knocked on the door.

Quaire waved him in.

"I've got Stan Colt out there, sir."

"I can see. Now, can you get him out of here?"

"I'll try…"

"Tony went to Harrisburg," Washington explained, "and talked Lieutenant Stecker, their print expert, into going late to his retirement party. He and Tony are still at the State Police lab running the print through the AFIS. Presuming the doer's prints are on file, and we get a match from the machine, Tony will contact us."

"So get Mr. Colt out of here, and the sooner the better," Captain Quaire ordered. "If there's a match, everybody and his brother will be in here, and he shouldn't."

"He seems to be stricken with Detective Lassiter," Washington said. "May I suggest you take both of them someplace while she at great length explains how we are working the Williamson job?"

"Can I send her in here so you can tell her that?"

"Make it quick," Quaire said.

"Yes, sir."

Matt walked to Olivia and told her the boss wanted to see her.

When she was out of earshot, Colt asked, "What was that all about?"

"I just got permission from the captain for her to tell you what's going on with the Williamson job."