“No. Carpenter? No.” She shook her head. “No, we don’t know anybody by that name.”
“Well... is it possible your husband was having some woodworking done?”
“No.”
“That he might have contacted a carpenter or a cabinetmaker?”
“No.”
“Nothing like that?” Kling said. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Do you have any idea why he would have said that word, Mrs. Wechsler? He repeated it over and over. We thought it might have some special meaning.”
“No. Nobody.”
“Do you have any of your husband’s letters or bills? Perhaps he was corresponding with someone, or doing business with someone who—”
“I shared everything with my husband. Nobody named Carpenter. No woodworkers. No cabinetmakers. I’m sorry.”
“Well, could I have the bills and letters anyway? I’ll return them to you in good condition.”
“But please don’t take too long with the bills,” Ruth Wechsler said. “I like to pay bills prompt.” She sighed heavily. “I have to read it now.”
“I’m sorry, what...?”
“The book. Mr. Wouk’s book.” She paused. “My poor husband,” she said. “My poor darling.”
And though she pronounced the word “dollink,” it did not sound at all amusing.
In the hallway outside the apartment, Kling suddenly leaned back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. He breathed heavily and violently for several moments, and then he let out a long sigh, and shoved himself off the wall, and quietly went down the steps to the street.
It was Saturday, and the children were all home from school. A stickball game was in progress in the middle of the street, the boys wearing open shirts in the unaccustomed October balminess. Little girls in bright frocks skipped rope on the sidewalk — “Double-ee-Dutch, Double-ee Dutch, catch a rabbit and build a hutch!” Two little boys were playing marbles in the gutter, one of them arguing about the illegal use of a steelie in the game. Further up the street Kling saw three pint-sized conspirators, two boys and a girl, rush up to a doorway on street level, glance around furtively, ring the bell, and then rush across the street to the opposite side. As he passed the doorway, the door opened and a housewife peered out inquisitively. From across the street the three children began chanting, “Lady, lady, I did it; lady, lady, I did it; lady, lady, I did it; lady, lady, I did it...”
The sound of their voices echoed in his ears all the way up the block.
Chapter 7
Teddy Carella was talking.
She said:
“Yes?” Carella said.
“I’m beginning to get the message,” Carella said.
“Is that the best you can do?” Carella asked. “That’s not very original. So you love me, huh?”
Teddy repeated the three words, her hands rapidly spelling the message. He took her into his arms and kissed the tip of her nose briefly, and then his mouth dropped to hers and he kissed her completely and longingly, holding her in his arms after the kiss, her head cradled against his cheek. He released her at last and took off his jacket and then took his service revolver from his right rear pocket, unclipping the holster and putting the gun down on the end table. Teddy frowned and a torrent of words spilled from her hands.
“All right, all right,” Carella answered. “I won’t leave it around where the kids can get at it. Where are they, anyway?”
In the yard, her hands told him. What happened today? Did you talk—
But Carella had picked up the revolver and gone into the bedroom of the old Riverhead house, and he could no longer see her hands. She came into the room after him, turned him around to face her, and completed the sentence.
— to Kling? How is he?
Carella unbuttoned his shirt and threw it over one of the chairs. Teddy picked it up and carried it to the hamper. In the backyard he could hear the twins chasing each other, shouting their childish gibberish.
“I talked to Kling, yes,” he said. “He’s working on the case with us.”
Teddy frowned and then shrugged.
“I felt the same way, honey,” Carella answered. He took off his T-shirt, wiped perspiration from his chest and under his arms, and then fired the wadded shirt at the hamper, missing. Teddy cast him a baleful glance and picked up the shirt. “But he wants in on it, and we can’t very well refuse him.” He had turned his back, heading for the bathroom, thoughtlessly. He stopped in his tracks, turned to her, and repeated his words so that she could read his lips. “We can’t very well refuse him.”
Teddy nodded, but she still seemed troubled by the concept. She followed Carella into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub while he washed. Through a layer of suds and water, Carella said, “We figure the killer was after one of the four he got, Teddy. Maybe we’re wrong, but that’s the way we read it.” His hands had covered his mouth on the last two words as he rinsed away suds. “Read it,” he repeated, and Teddy nodded. He dried his face and then began speaking again while she watched his lips intently. “We’ve been questioning relatives of the deceased. Meyer and I spoke to Mrs. Land out on Sands Spit this morning, and Bert went to see Mrs. Wechsler this afternoon. So far, there’s nothing we can go on. There’s Claire’s father, of course, and Meyer and I thought we’d go see him tomorrow...”
Teddy frowned instantly.
“What is it?” Carella asked.
The folks are coming tomorrow, she told him.
“What time?”
In the afternoon. One or two. For lunch.
“Then Meyer and I... well, we’ll make it early in the morning. He’s got to be talked to, Teddy.”
Teddy nodded.
“We haven’t been able to get a line on the third man who was killed in the shop. His name’s Anthony La Scala, and his driver’s license gave an address in Isola for him. But Meyer and I checked there a little while ago, and the super told us he’d moved about a month ago. The post office doesn’t have a forwarding address for him.”
That might be something, Teddy said.
“It might. I want to do some homework with the phone book later.”
Teddy shook her head.
“Why not?”
He moved a month ago. The phone book...
“That’s right,” Carella said, nodding. “His new address and number wouldn’t be listed yet. How come you’re so smart?” He grinned and held out his hands to her. She took them, and he pulled her from her sitting position and held her close to his naked chest. “Why don’t we have Fanny feed the kids and put them to bed?” he said. “Then we can go out to dinner and a movie.”
Teddy wiggled her eyebrows.
“Well, yeah, that, too. But I thought later.”
She ran her tongue over her lips and then pulled away from him. He reached out for her, missed, and slapped her on the behind as she went out of the bathroom, laughing soundlessly. When he came into the bedroom, she was taking off her clothes.
“What are you doing?” he asked, puzzled. “The kids are still awake.”
Teddy let her hands dangle loosely from the wrists and then waggled the fingers.
“Oh, you’re gonna take a shower,” he said.
She nodded.
“I think you’re just trying to tease me, that’s all.”