They walked to the police sedan, and Carella slipped in behind the wheel. He started the car and then eased it into the light Sunday morning traffic.
“Let’s have a quick rundown while we drive over, okay?” he said.
“Okay.”
“What’s the other team covering?”
“Di Maeo’s checking out the 1954 bookstore holdup. Our records show the thief was released from Castleview in 1956 and returned to Denver. But he wants to make sure the guy didn’t come back here. He’s checking on some of his buddies, too, to make sure they weren’t involved in the Friday shooting.”
“What else?”
“He’s going over every arrest Bert ever made, sorting them out, putting a pickup-and-hold on anybody who looks like a possible. He’s plenty busy, Steve.”
“Okay. What about Willis and Brown?”
“Willis is trying to locate family or friends of the fourth victim. What the hell was his name?”
“La Scala.”
“That’s right,” Meyer said. “Anthony La Scala.”
“How come Italians are always getting shot?” Carella asked.
“They’re not.”
“On The Untouchables they’re always getting shot.”
“Well, that show is stacked,” Meyer said. He grinned slyly and added, “Did you catch that one?”
“I caught it.”
“Stacked. Robert Sta—”
“I caught it,” Carella said again. “Has Willis found an address for this La Scala character yet?”
“Not yet.”
“That’s pretty peculiar, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, pretty peculiar.”
“Makes him sound a little shady.”
“All your countrymen are shady,” Meyer said. “Didn’t you know that? Don’t you watch The Untouchables?”
“Sure I do. You know what I noticed?”
“What?”
“Robert Stack never smiles.”
“I saw him smile once,” Meyer said.
“When?”
“I forget. He was killing some hood. But I distinctly saw him smile.”
“I never saw him smile,” Carella said seriously.
“Well, a cop’s life is a tough one,” Meyer said. “You know what I noticed?”
“What?”
“Frank Nitti always wears the same striped, double-breasted suit.”
“That’s ‘cause crime doesn’t pay,” Carella said.
“I like that guy who plays Nitti.”
“Yeah, I do, too.” Carella nodded. “You know something? I don’t think I ever saw him smile either.”
“What’s with you and this smiling business?”
“I don’t know. I like to see people smile every now and then.”
“Here,” Meyer said. “Here’s a smile for you.” He grinned from ear to ear.
Carella said, “Here’s the hospital. Save your teeth for the Admissions nurse.”
The Admissions nurse was charmed to pieces by Meyer’s dazzling dental display, and she told them how to reach the ward where Claire Townsend had worked. The intern on duty wasn’t quite as thrilled by Meyer’s smile. He was underpaid and overworked, and he didn’t need a comic vaudeville team lousing up his nice quiet ward on a nice quiet Sunday morning. He was ready to give the itinerant flatfoots a fast brush, but he didn’t know he was dealing with Detective Meyer Meyer, scourge of the underworld and the medical profession, the most patient cop and man in the city, if not in the entire United States.
“We’re terribly sorry to intrude on your valuable time, Dr. McElroy,” Meyer said, “but—”
McElroy, who was a bit of a sharpshooter himself, quickly said, “Well, I’m glad you understand, gentlemen. If you’ll kindly leave, then, we can all get back to—”
“Yes, we understand,” Meyer sniped, “and of course you have patients to examine and sedatives to distribute and—”
“You’re oversimplifying an intern’s work,” McElroy said.
“Naturally I am, and I apologize, because I know how very busy you are, Dr. McElroy. But we’re dealing with a homicide here—”
“I’m dealing with sick people here,” McElroy interrupted.
“And your job is to keep them from dying. But our job is to find out who killed the ones who are already dead. Anything you can tell us about—”
“I have specific orders from the chief of staff,” McElroy said, “and it’s my job to carry them out in his absence. A hospital works by the clock, Detective... Meyer, was it?”
“Yes, and I understand—”
“—and I simply haven’t the time to answer a lot of questions — not this morning, I haven’t. Why don’t you wait until Staff comes in, and you can ask—”
“But you worked with Claire Townsend, didn’t you?”
“Claire worked with me, and with all the other doctors on this ward, and also with Staff. Look, Detective Meyer—”
“Did you get along well with her?”
“I don’t intend to answer any questions, Detective Meyer.”
“I guess he didn’t get along with her, Steve,” Meyer said.
“Of course I got along with her. Everyone did. Claire was a... look, Detective Meyer, you’re not going to trick me into a long discussion about Claire. Really! I have work to do. I have patients.”
“I have patience, too,” Meyer said, and he grinned beautifully. “You were saying about Claire?”
McElroy glared at Meyer silently.
“I guess we could subpoena him,” Carella said.
“Subpoena me? What in hell...? Look,” McElroy said patiently, “I have to make my rounds at eleven o’clock. Then I have to order medication. Then I have two—”
“Yes, we know you’re busy,” Meyer said.
“I have two spinal taps and some intravenouses, not to mention new admissions and personal histories and—”
“Let’s go get a warrant,” Carella said.
McElroy’s shoulders slumped. “Why’d I ever become a doctor?” he asked no one in particular.
“How long did you know Claire?”
“About six months,” McElroy said tiredly.
“Did you like working with her?”
“Everyone did. Medical social workers are very valuable to us, and Claire was an unusually conscientious and able person. I was sorry to read about... about what happened. Claire was a nice girl. And a good worker.”
“Did she ever have any trouble with anyone on the ward?”
“No.”
“Doctors? Nurses? Patients?”
“No.”
“Now, come on, Dr. McElroy,” Meyer said. “This girl wasn’t a saint.”
“Maybe she wasn’t a saint,” McElroy said, “but she was a damn good social worker. And a good social worker doesn’t get involved in petty squabbles.”
“Are there petty squabbles on this ward?”
“There are petty squabbles everywhere.”
“But Claire never got involved in any of them.”
“Not to my knowledge,” McElroy said.
“How about her patients? You can’t tell us all of her patients were ideal, well-adjusted individuals who—”
“No, many of them were quite disturbed.”
“Then, surely, all of them didn’t readily accept what she was trying to—”
“That’s true. Not all of them accepted her at first.”
“Then there were problems.”
“At first. But Claire had a wonderful way with people, and she almost always gained a patient’s complete confidence.”
“Almost always?”
“Yes.”
“When didn’t she?” Carella asked.
“What?”
“Almost isn’t always, Dr. McElroy. Did she have trouble with any of the patients?”
“Nothing serious. Nothing she couldn’t work out. I’m trying to tell you that Claire was an unusually dedicated person who had a wonderful way of dealing with her patients. To be quite frank about it, some medical social workers are a severe pain in the ass. But not Claire. Claire was gentle and patient and kind and understanding and... She was good, period. She knew her job, and she loved her job. She was good at it. That’s all I can tell you. Why, she even... Her work extended beyond this ward. She took a personal interest in the patients’ families. She visited homes, helped relatives to make adjustments. She was an unusual person, believe me.”