“Sure,” Carella said. “Where shall I meet you?”
“Well, the first guy is a merchant seaman, vanished on February fourteenth, Valentine’s Day. His wife reported him missing. She lives on Detavoner, near South Eleventh.”
“Meet you on the corner there?”
“Fine,” Kling said. “Were there any calls for me?”
“Claire called.”
“Yeah?”
“Said you should call her back as soon as you got a chance.”
“Oh? Okay, thanks,” Kling said. “I’ll see you in about a half-hour, okay?”
“Right. Stay out of the rain.” And he hung up.
Now, standing in the rain on what was probably the most exposed corner in the entire city, Kling tried to crawl deep into his trench coat, tried to form an airtight, watertight seal where his hands were thrust deep into his coat pockets, tried to pull in his neck like a turtle, but nothing worked against the goddamn rain, everything was wet and cold and clammy, and where the hell was Carella?
I wish I wore a hat, he thought. I wish I were that kind of American advertising executive who could feel comfortable in a hat.
Hatless, his blond hair soaked and plastered to his skull, Kling stood on the street corner observing:
a) the open parking lot on one corner.
b) the skyscraper under construction on the opposite corner.
c) the fenced-in park on the third corner.
d) the blank wall of a warehouse on the fourth corner.
No canopies under which to stand. No doorways into which a man could duck. Nothing but the wide open spaces of Isola and the rain driving across those spaces like a Cossack charge in an Italian-made spectacle. Damn you, Carella, where are you?
Aw, come on, Steve, he thought. Have a heart.
The unmarked police sedan pulled to the curb. A sign on the lamppost read NO PARKING OR STANDING 8:00 A.M. TO 6:00 P.M. Carella parked the car and got out.
“Hi,” he said. “Been waiting long?”
“What the hell kept you?” Kling wanted to know.
“Grossman called from the lab just as I was leaving.”
“Yeah? So what... ?”
“He’s working on both the hand and the bag now, says he’ll have a report for us sometime tomorrow.”
“Will he get any prints from the hand?”
“He doubts it. The finger tips are cut to ribbons. Listen, can’t we discuss this over a cup of coffee? Must we stand here in the rain? And I’d also like to take a look at that Missing Person sheet before we see this woman.”
“I can use a cup of coffee,” Kling said.
“Does she knew we’re coming? The guy’s wife?”
“No. You think I should have called?”
“No, better this way. Maybe we’ll find her with a body in a trunk and a meat cleaver in her dainty fist.”
“Sure. There’s a diner in the middle of the block. Let’s get the coffee there. You can look over the sheet while I buzz Claire.”
“Good,” Carella said.
They walked to the diner, sat in one of the booths, and ordered two cups of coffee. While Kling went to call his fiancée, Carella sipped at his coffee and studied the report. He read it through once, and then he read it through a second time. This is what it said:
When Kling came back to the table, there was a smile on his face.
“What’s up?” Carella asked.
“Oh, nothing much. Claire’s father left for New Jersey this morning, that’s all. Won’t be back until Monday.”
“Which gives you an empty apartment for the weekend, huh?” Carella said.
“Well, I wasn’t thinking of anything like that,” Kling said.
“No, of course not.”
“But it might be nice,” Kling admitted.
“When are you going to marry that girl?”
“She wants to get her master’s degree before we get married.”
“Why?”
“How do I know? She’s insecure.” Kling shrugged. “She’s psychotic. How do I know?”
“What does she want after the master’s? A doctorate?”
“Maybe.” Kling shrugged. “Listen, I ask her to marry me every time I see her. She wants the master’s. So what can I do? I’m in love with her. Can I tell her to go to hell?”
“I suppose not.”
“Well, I can’t.” Kling paused. “I mean, what the hell, Steve, if a girl wants an education, it’s not my right to say no, is it?”
“I guess not.”
“Well, would you have said no to Teddy?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, there you are.”
“Sure.”
“I mean, what the hell else can I do, Steve? I either wait for her, or I decide not to marry her, right?”
“Right,” Carella said.
“And since I want to marry her, I have no choice. I wait.” He paused thoughtfully. “Jesus, I hope she isn’t one of those perennial schoolgirl types.” He paused again. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll just have to wait, that’s all.”
“That sounds like sound deduction.”
“Sure. The only thing is... well, to be absolutely truthful with you, Steve, I’m afraid she’ll get pregnant or something, and then we’ll have to get married, do you know what I mean? And that’ll be different than if we just got married because we felt like it. I mean, even though we love each other and all, it’d be different. Oh, Jesus, I don’t know what to do.”
“Just be careful, that’s all,” Carella said.
“Oh, I am. I mean, we are, we are. You want to know something, Steve?”
“What?”
“I wish I could keep my hands off her. You know, I wish we didn’t have to... well, you know, my landlady looks at me cockeyed every time I bring Claire upstairs. And then I have to rush her home because her father is the strictest guy who ever walked the earth. I’m surprised he’s leaving her alone this weekend. But what I mean is... well, damnit, what the hell does she need that master’s for, Steve? I mean, I wish I could leave her alone until we were married, but I just can’t. I mean, all I have to do is be with her, and my mouth goes dry. Is it that way with... well, never mind, I didn’t mean to get personal.”
“It’s that way,” Carella said.
“Yeah,” Kling said, and he nodded. He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he said, “I’ve got tomorrow off, but not Sunday. Do you think somebody would want to switch with me? Like for a Tuesday or something? I hate to break up the weekend.”
“Where’d you plan to spend the weekend?” Carella asked.
“Well, you know... ”
“All weekend?” Carella said, surprised.
“Well, you know... ”
“Starting tonight?” he asked, astonished.
“Well, you know... ”
“I’d give you my Sunday, but I’m afraid... ”
“Will you?” Kling said, leaning forward.
“... you’ll be a wreck on Monday morning.” Carella paused. “All weekend?” he asked again.
“Well, it isn’t often the old man goes away. You know.”
“Flaming Youth, where have you gone?” Carella said, shaking his head. “Sure, you can have my Sunday if the Skipper says okay.”
“Thanks, Steve.”
“Or did Teddy have something planned?” Carella asked himself.
“Now don’t change your mind,” Kling said anxiously.
“Okay, okay.” He tapped the Missing Persons report with his forefinger. “What do you think?”
“He looks good, I would say. He’s big enough, anyway. Sixfour and weighs two-ten. That’s no midget, Steve.”
“And that hand belonged to a big man.” Carella finished his coffee and said, “Come on, Lover Man, let’s go see Mrs. Androvich.”