"The story stinks. Try again," Carella answered.
Kelly sighed, McCarthy looked at him.
"Well?" Carella said.
"I was checkin' up on my dame," Kelly said.
"Yeah?" Bush said.
"Truth," Kelly said. "So help me Jesus, may I be struck dead right this goddamn minute."
"What's there to check up on?" Bush asked.
"Well, you know."
"No, I don't know. Tell me."
"I figured she was maybe slippin' around."
"Slipping around with who?" Bush asked.
"Well, that's what I wanted to find out."
"And what were you doing with him, McCarthy?"
"I was helping him check," McCarthy said, smiling.
"Was she?" Bush asked, a bored expression on his face.
"No, I don't think so," Kelly said.
"Don't check again," Bush said. "Next time we're liable to find you with the burglar's tools."
"Burglar's tools!" McCarthy said shocked.
"Gee, Detective Bush," Kelly said, "you know us better than that."
"Get the hell out of here," Bush said. "We can go home?"
"You can go to hell, for my part," Bush informed them.
"Here's the coffee," Foster said.
The released prisoners sauntered out of the Squad Room. The three detectives paid the delivery boy for the coffee and then pulled chairs up to one of the desks.
"I heard a good one last night," Foster said.
"Let's hear it," Carella prompted.
"This guy is a construction worker, you see?"
"Yeah."
"Working up on a girder about sixty floors above the street."
"Yeah?"
"The lunch whistle blows. He knocks off, goes to the end of the girder, sits down, and puts his lunch box on his lap. He opens the box, takes out a sandwich and very carefully unwraps the waxed paper. Then he bites into it. 'Goddamn!' he says, 'peanut butter!' and he throws the sandwich down the sixty floors to the street."
"I don't get it," Bush said, sipping at his coffee.
"I'm not finished yet," Foster said, grinning, hardly able to contain his glee.
"Go ahead," Carella said.
"He reaches into the box," Foster said, "for the next sandwich. He very carefully unwraps the waxed paper. He bites into the sandwich. 'Goddamn!' he says again, 'peanut butter!' and he flings that second sandwich down the sixty floors to the street."
"Yeah," Carella said.
"He opens the third sandwich," Foster said. "This time it's ham. This time he likes it. He eats the sandwich all up."
"This is gonna go on all night," Bush said. "You shoulda stood in bed, Dave."
"No, wait a minute, wait a minute," Foster said. "He opens.the fourth sandwich. He bites into it. 'Goddamn!' he says again, 'peanut butter!' and he flings that sandwich too down the sixty floors to the street. Well, there's another construction worker sitting on a girder just a little bit above this fellow. He looks down and says, 'Say, fellow, I've been watching you with them sandwiches.'
"'So what?' the first guy says.
"'You married?' the second guy asks.
"'Yes, I'm married."
"The second guy shakes his head. 'How long you been married?"
"Ten years," the first guy says.
"'And your wife still doesn't know what kind of sandwiches you like?'
'The first guy points his finger up at the guy above him and yells, "Listen, you son of a bitch, leave my wife out of this. I made those goddamn sandwiches myself!'"
Carella burst out laughing, almost choking on his coffee. Bush stared at Foster dead-panned.
"I still don't get it," Bush said. "What's so funny about a guy married ten years whose wife doesn't know what kind of sandwiches he likes? That's not funny. That's a tragedy."
"He made the sandwiches himself," Foster said.
"So then it's a psycho joke. Psycho jokes don't appeal to me. You got to be nuts to appreciate a psycho joke."
"I appreciate it," Carella said.
"So? That proves my point," Bush answered.
"Hank didn't get enough sleep," Carella said to Foster. Foster winked.
"I got plenty of sleep," Bush said.
"Ah-ha," Carella said. "Then that explains it."
"What the hell do you mean by that?" Bush said, annoyed.
"Oh, forget it. Drink your coffee."
"A man doesn't get a joke, right away his sex life gets dragged in. Do I ask you how much sleep you get or don't get?"
"No," Carella said.
"Okay. Okay."
One of the patrolmen walked into the Squad Room. "Desk sergeant asked me to give you this," he said. "Just came up from Downtown."
"Probably that Coroner's report," Carella said, taking the manila envelope. "Thanks."
The patrolman nodded and went out. Carella opened the envelope.
"Is it?" Foster asked.
"Yeah. Something else, too." He pulled a card from the envelope. "Oh, report on the slugs they dug out of the theatre booth."
"Let's see it," Hank said.
Carella handed him the card.
BULLET
Calibre: .45 Weight: 230 grms. Twist: 16L No. of Grooves: 6
Deceased: Michael Reardon Date: July 24
Remarks: Remington bullet taken from wooden booth behind body of Michael Reardon.
"Argh, so what does it tell us?" Bush said, still smarting from the earlier badinage.
"Nothing," Carella answered, "until we get the gun that fired it."
"What about the Coroner's report?" Foster asked.
Carella slipped it out of the envelope.
CORONER'S PRELIMINARY AUTOPSY REPORT
MICHAEL REARDON
Male, apparent age 42; chronological age 38. Approximate weight 210 pounds; height 28.9 cm.
Gross Inspection
HEAD: 1.0 x 1.25 cm circular perforation visible 3.1 centimeters laterally to the left of external occipital protuberance (inion). Wound edges slightly inverted. Flame zone and second zone reveal heavy embedding of powder grains. A number 22 catheter inserted through the wound in the occipital region of the skull transverses ventrally and emerges through the right orbit Point of emergence has left a gaping rough-edged wound measuring 3.7 centimeters in diameter.
There is a second perforation located 6.2 centimeters laterally to the left of the tip of the right mastoid process of the temporal bone, measuring 1.0 x 1.33 centimeters. A number 22 catheter inserted through this second wound passes anteriorly and ventrally and emerges through a perforation measuring approximately 3.5 centimeters in diameter through the right maxilla. The edges of the remaining portion of the right maxilla are splintered.
BODY: Gross inspection of remaining portion of body is negative for demonstrable pathology.
REMARKS: On craniotomy with brain examination, there is evidence of petechiae along course of projectile; small splinters of cranial bone are embedded within the brain substance.
MICROSCOPIC: Examination of brain reveals minute petechiae as well as bone substance within brain matter. Microscopic examination of brain tissue is essentially negative for pathology.
"He did a good job, the bastard," Foster said. "Yeah," Bush answered.
Carella sighed and looked at his watch. "It's going to be a long night, fellers," he said.
Chapter SIX
he had not seen Teddy Franklin since Mike took the slugs.
Generally, in the course of running down something, he would drop in to see her, spending a few minutes with her before rushing off again. And, of course, he spent all his free time with her because he was in love with the girl.
He had met her less than six months ago, when she'd been working addressing envelopes for a small firm on the fringe of the precinct territory. The firm reported a burglary, and Carella had been assigned to it. He had been taken instantly with her buoyant beauty, asked her out, and that had been the beginning. He had also, in the course of investigation, cracked the burglary—but that didn't seem important now. The important thing now was Teddy. Even the firm had gone the way of most small firms, fading into the abyss of a corporate dissolution, leaving her without a job but with enough saved money to maintain herself for a while. He honestly hoped it would only be for a while, a short while at that. This was the girl he wanted to marry. This was the girl he wanted for his own.