They walked to it rapidly, and Carella looked through the plate-glass window.
“Not too crowded,” he said, “and it looks clean. You game?”
Teddy took his arm, and he led her into the place.
It was, perhaps, not the cleanest place in the world. As sharp as Carella’s eyes were, a cursory glance through a plate-glass window is not always a good evaluation of cleanliness. And, perhaps, the reason it wasn’t too crowded was that the food wasn’t too good. Not that it mattered very much, since both Carella and Teddy were really very hungry and probably would have eaten sautéed grasshoppers if they were served.
The place did have nice checkered tablecloths and candles stuck into the necks of old wine bottles, the wax frozen to the glass. The place did have a long bar which ran the length of the wall opposite the dining room, bottles stacked behind it, amber lights illuminating the bottles. The place did have a phone booth, and Carella still had to make his call back to the squad.
The waiter who came over to their table seemed happy to see them.
“Something to drink before you order?” he asked.
“Two martinis,” Carella said. “Olives.”
“Would you care to see a menu now or later, sir?”
“Might as well look at it now,” Carella said. The waiter brought them two menus. Carella glanced at his briefly and then put it down. “I’m bucking for a divorce,” he said. “I’ll have spaghetti.”
While Teddy scanned the menu, Carella looked around the room. An elderly couple were quietly eating at a table near the phone booth. There was no one else in the dining room. At the bar, a man in a leather jacket sat with a shot glass and a glass of water before him. The man was looking into the bar mirror. His eyes were on Teddy.
Behind the bar, the bartender was mixing the martinis Carella had ordered.
“I’m so damn hungry I could eat the bartender,” Carella said.
When the waiter came with their drinks, he ordered spaghetti for himself and then asked Teddy what she wanted. Teddy pointed to the lasagna dish on the menu, and Carella gave it to the waiter. When the waiter was gone, they picked up their glasses.
“Here’s to ships that come in,” Carella said.
Teddy stared at him, puzzled.
“All loaded with treasures from the East,” he went on, “smelling of rich spices, with golden sails.”
She was still staring at him, still puzzled.
“I’m drinking to you, darling,” he explained. He watched the smile form on her mouth. “Poetic cops this city can do without,” he said, and he sipped at the martini and then put the glass down. “I want to call the squad, honey. I’ll be back in a minute.” He touched her hand briefly, and then went toward the phone booth, digging in his pocket for change as he walked away from the table.
She watched him walk from her, pleased with the long athletic strides he took, pleased with the impatience of his hand as it dug for change, pleased with the way he held his head. She realized abruptly that one of the first things that had attracted her to Carella was the way he moved. There was an economy and simplicity of motion about him, a sense of directness. You got the feeling that before he moved he knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do, and so there was a tremendous sense of security attached to being with him.
Teddy sipped at the martini and then took a long swallow. She had not eaten since noon, and so she was not surprised by the rapidity with which the martini worked its alcoholic wonders. She watched her husband enter the phone booth, watched as he dialed quickly. She wondered how he would speak to the desk sergeant and then to the detective who was catching in the squad room. Would they know he’d been talking of treasure ships just a few moments before? What kind of a cop was he? What did the other cops think of him? She felt a sudden exclusion. Faced with the impenetrable privacy which was any man’s work, she felt alone and unwanted. Quickly, she drained the martini glass.
A shadow fell over the table.
At first she thought it was only a trick of her eyes, and then she looked up. The man who’d been sitting at the bar, the man in the leather jacket, was standing at the table, grinning.
“Hi,” he said.
She glanced hastily at the phone booth. Carella had his back to the dining room.
“What’re you doing with a creep like that?” the man said.
Teddy turned away from him and fastened her eyes to the napkin in her lap.
“You’re just about the cutest doll that ever walked into this dump,” the man in the leather jacket said. “Why don’t you ditch that creep and meet me later. How about it?”
She could smell whiskey on the man’s breath. There was something frightening about his eyes, something insulting about the way they roamed her body with open candor. She wished she were not wearing a sweater. Unconsciously, she pulled the cardigan closed over the lulling cones of her breasts.
“Come on,” the man said, “don’t cover them up.”
She looked up at him and shook her head. Her eyes pleaded with him to go away. She glanced again to the phone booth. Carella was talking animatedly.
“My name’s Dave,” the man said. “That’s a nice name, ain’t it? Dave. What’s your name?”
She could not answer him. She would not have answered him even if she could.
“Come on, loosen up,” Dave said. He stared at her, and his eyes changed, and he said, “Jesus, you’re beautiful, you know that? Ditch him, will you? Ditch him and meet me.”
Teddy shook her head.
“Let me hear you talk,” Dave said.
She shook her head again, pleadingly this time.
“I want to hear your voice. I’ll bet it’s the sexiest goddamn voice in the world. Let me hear it.”
Teddy squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Her hands were trembling in her lap. She wanted this man to go away, wanted him to leave her alone, wanted him to be gone before Steve came out of that booth, before Steve came back to the table. She was slightly dizzy from the martini, and her mind could only think that Steve would be displeased, Steve might think she had invited this.
“Look, what do you have to be such a cold tomato for, huh? I’ll bet you’re not so cold. I’ll bet you’re pretty warm. Let me hear your voice.”
She shook her head again, and then she saw Carella hang up the phone and open the door of the booth. He was grinning, and then he looked toward the table and the grin dropped from his mouth, and she felt a sudden sick panic at the pit of her stomach. Carella moved out of the booth quickly. His eyes had tightened into focus on the man with the leather jacket.
“Come on,” Dave said, “what you got to be that way for, huh? All I’m asking…”
“What’s the trouble, mister?” Carella said suddenly. She looked up at her husband, wanting him to know she had not asked for this, hoping it was in her eyes. Carella did not turn to look at her. His eyes were riveted to Dave’s face.
“No trouble at all,” Dave said, turning, facing Carella with an arrogant smile.
“You’re annoying my wife,” Carella said. “Take off.”
“Oh, was I annoying her? Is the little lady your wife?” He spread his legs wide and let his arms dangle at his sides, and Carella knew instantly that he was looking for trouble and wouldn’t be happy until he found it.
“You were, and she is,” Carella said. “Go crawl back to the bar. It’s been nice knowing you.”
Dave continued smiling. “I ain’t crawling back nowhere,” he said. “This is a free country. I’m staying right here.”
Carella shrugged and pulled out his chair. Dave continued standing by the table. Carella took Teddy’s hand.