It was almost October when the report reached Carella’s desk. By that time, Lily Parker had been remanded to the Riverhead Facility for the Criminally Insane. By that time, the city’s skies were clear and blue, and there was a clean crisp bite on the air. Typewriters were clacking in the squadroom, phones were ringing. Carella rose from his desk and walked to the filing cabinets, and found the folder for Chadderton under C, and filed the report at the front of the folder. The case was closed, everything wrapped up neatly and tied with a pretty little bow. All the pieces in place, just like a phony fucking mystery novel.
But the phone on his desk was ringing again.