On Carella's block, there was nothing humorous about crime. Crime was serious business, and the people who committed crimes were nothing but criminals, period. He didn't care if they came from broken homes, he didn't care if they'd been abused as children, he didn't care if they had what they believed were very good reasons for beating the system. The way Carella looked at it, there were no very good reasons for beating the system. Maybe President Clinton should have kept his zipper zipped, but he was right when he suggested that everyone should work hard and play by the rules.
Carella worked hard and played by the rules.
The Deaf Man didn't.
That was the difference between them.
Well, maybe the Deaf Man was working hard at concocting these riddles of his, but he sure as hell wasn't playing by the rules.
Carella had to admit that there was nothing he'd have liked better than for someone — anyone — to pop out of his seat and raise his hand when the priest asked the gathered witnesses to speak now or forever hold their peace. But he did not want that someone to be the Deaf Man. He did not want any surprises at tomorrow's ceremony, ceremonies.
He wanted all of this over and done with.
The weddings and whatever the Deaf Man was planning.
All of it.
Toward that end, the Deaf Man's next note was no help at all.
So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book, For yet ere supper-time must I perform Much business appertaining.
'No, wait,' Willis said. 'I think he's trying to tell us something, after all.'
'Yeah, what? There's nothing at all about a concert this time,' Parker said.
'But he's back to something printed again. 'Thy printed worth,' remember? Now he's specifically mentioning a book. 'I'll to my book.' There it is, right there, in black and white. A book.'
'I looked at all Shakespeare's plays in the library the other night,' Genero said.
'Good, Richard, you get a gold star.'
'Well, maybe he's telling us to go to the library. To find that missing quote, or whatever.'
'Of course he is,' Parker said, encouraging him. 'Maybe in the very same book you looked at the other night.'
'Maybe so.'
'Maybe you can even borrow the book, Richard. Ponder it at your leisure.'
"Well, wait a minute,' Eileen said. 'He did say "borrow or rob," didn't he? In one of his notes? And that's where you borrow a book, isn't it? A library?'
'First book I ever owned,' Parker said, 'I stole from the lib'ery.'
'Where's that Here & Now? Eileen asked. 'Is there anything about a library in it?'
In a section of the magazine titled . . .
AROUND TOWN
. . . they found a subsection titled:
LAST CHANCE DEPARTMENT.
Headlined there was an article titled . . .
Bye Bye, Bard
It read:
To mark the departure of the 6.2-million-dollar First Folio edition of Shakespeare's plays, on loan from the Folger Collection in Washington, D.C., Patrick Stewart - renowned Shakespearean actor
and subsequent captain of the starship Enterprise -will read from selected plays in a farewell tribute. Saturday, June 12, at 3:00 p.m. The Molson Auditorium at Langdon Library.
THIS TIME, THEY Googled directly to First Folio. And this time, they found the source of what until now they'd believed was a Shakespearean quote:
We wondred that thou went'st so soon From the world's stage, to the grave's tiring room. We thought thee dead, but this thy printed worth, Tells thy spectators that thou went'st but forth To enter with applause.
An Actor's Art,
Can die, and live, to act a second part.
The lines of verse had been written 'To the memory of Master William Shakespeare' by a contemporary poet and translator named James Mabbe. It appeared in the 1623 First Folio of plays as one of several introductory dedications.
'Never heard of him,' Parker said.
But it now seemed possible that the Deaf Man was directing them to the valuable book that would be leaving the Langdon Library this Saturday. And it seemed further possible that he planned to steal it.
'And hold it for ransom,' Eileen suggested. ' 'Must sell at tallest sum."'
'He's gonna kidnap a book?' Genero said.
'Whatever he's gonna do, he's doing it before supper-time,' Kling said.
'Sure, look.'
For yet ere supper-time must I perform Much business appertaining.
'Three o'clock would seem to qualify,' Brown said.
'Where's the Langdon Library?'
'Midtown South Precinct, isn't it?'
'We'd better alert them.'
'You think they don't already know they've got a six-million-dollar book on their hands?'
'Six million two.'
'Security there must be thicker than bear shit.'
'But that's it,' Willis said. 'We doped it out, right?'
'Thank you, Mr. Deaf Man,' Genero said, and bowed from the waist.
You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians,
play. A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.
'Friggin guy's a mind reader,' Parker said. 'What's he mean "girls"}'
'I'm a girl,' Eileen said, and beamed a Shirley Temple smile.
'He's back to music again.'
"Musicians."'
'"A hall, a hall!"'
'A concert hall!'
'Where's that magazine?'
'Wasn't there something about. . . ?'
'Here.'
Under DON'T MISS!, they once again found:
Konstantinos Sallas, 'renowned violin virtuoso,
guest-starring with the Philharmonic' at Clarendon Hall this Saturday and Sunday at 3:00 p.m.
'Three o'clock again,' Eileen said. "That's still 'ere suppertime."'
'What does he mean by air?' Genero asked. 'Before.'
For yet ere supper-time must I perform
'That would seem to indicate a concert, don't you think?' Carella said. 'The word perform?'
'No, he's saying he himself has, to perform,' Meyer said. 'He has "much business appertaining.'"
'But it doesn't sound like a book anymore, does it?'
'The son of a bitch is asking us to chooseY Parker said.
'Which? The Sallas concert or the Folger First Folio?'
'The concert,' Eileen said.
'The book,' Genero said.
'Both,' Kling said.
It was Brown who tipped.
A palindrome!' he said. 'Sallas!'
And now they all jumped in like a Greek chorus.
'Sallas!'
'Sallas!'
'He's going after the violinist!'
'He's going to kidnap the friggin violinistV
And hold him for the tallest sumV
'Or maybe the book,' Genero insisted, raining on their parade.
'Which?' Carella asked.
THE NEXT BARRAGE of notes-seven of them in all-ar-
rived in the same envelope at two that afternoon. They were all Shakespearean quotes, which in itself seemed to indicate the Deaf Man's target was not some palindromic Greek fiddler, but the pricey book containing thirty-six of the bard's plays. Contrariwise, as was the Deaf Man's wont, the content of the notes seemed to be challenging the detectives to choose. Either or, lads. You pays yer money, and you takes yer choice.
It is 'music with her silver sound,'
because musicians have no gold for sounding:
But on the other hand:
Was ever book containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace!
Then again:
And those musicians that shall play to you Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend.