The first nun joke surfaced at the meeting that Wednesday morning in Lieutenant Byrnes's office. They all knew it would only be a matter of time before the nun jokes started, and they were somehow not surprised that Andy Parker told the first of them. They were all assembled in the loot's office, waiting from him to come back from the toilet down the hall. Perhaps it was the lieutenant's whereabouts that prompted the subject matter of the joke.
"This nun is driving along in her car, and she runs out of gas," Parker said, "have you heard this one?" Nobody had heard it.
"So she walks half a mile or so to the nearest gas station and buys a gallon of gas, but the gas-station guy hasn't got anything to put it in but a chamber pot.. The nun doesn't care, she just wants to get her car going again. So she carries the gas in the chamber pot back to the car, and she takes off the gas cap and is pouring the gas in when a guy passing by stops his car and says, "I sure wish I had your faith, Sister.”
"I don't get it," Kling said.
"The guy thinks she's pouring piss in the gas tank," Parker said.
"Why does he think that?" Willis asked.
He was the shortest detective on the squad, intense and wiry, here in the lieutenant's office morning because he and Parker had caught the bloody bedroom squeal the night before.
"Cause she's pouring the gas from a pisspot," Parker said.
"I thought you said a chamber pot," Meyer said. "That's what a chamber pot is, a pisspot," Parker said.
"Let me get this straight," Carella said. "Is this an English joke?”
"It's an American joke," Parker said. "Then why'd you call it a chamber pot?”
“Instead of a pisspot," Kling said, agreeing.
"If it's an English joke," Brown said, "you should have said petrol instead of gas.”
"Also," Meyer said, "why didn't she just pee in the tank instead of going all the way to the gas station to get a pisspot to pee in?”
"She doesn't pee in the pisspot," Parker said. "The gas station guy puts gas in it.”
"He farts in it?" Carella said, and Parker finally got it.
"You fuckin animals," he said. "Guy can't even tell an honest joke around here.”
"I still don't get it," Kling said.
"Yeah, fuck you," Parker said The door opened and Byrnes walked in. "Sorry I kept you waiting," he said.
"Were you down at the gas station?" Brown asked. "Pissing away a fortune?" Meyer said. "What's this about?" Byrnes said. "English humor," Carella said.
"Very funny," Byrnes said, and walked briskly to his desk. He was a burly man with iron-grey hair and an air of impatience, especially when two fresh bodies had shown up in his precinct the night before.
"What've we got?" he asked.
"Which case?" Parker asked.
There were three cases on the table this morning. The murders the night before, the nun murder, and the Cookie Boy burglaries.
"You're up, so speak," Byrnes said.
"We figure the lady of the house was making it with the delivery boy from the liquor store up the street," Parker said. "Might've been a three-way, we don't know. Either that, or an intruder. There was a trail of blood going down the hall and all over the bathroom. We've got samples, we ever catch anybody.”
"Where was the husband?" Byrnes asked.
If there'd been a third party at the scene, this was the only question to ask. "At work downtown.”
“Witnesses?”
“Hundreds.”
"Scratch the husband. What else have you got?”
“Lab should be getting back to us sometime today on the scene sweep. Woman on the third floor told us she heard what she thought were baclffres at around three-thirty, four o'clock. Otherwise nobody heard anything or saw anything.”
"Stay on the lab," Byrnes said.
"I've already got a call in to them," Willis said. "What's with Mr. Cookie Boy?" Byrnes asked: "Quiet yesterday. Maybe he's resting,”
Kling said.
"We'll be hitting the pawnshops again today,”
Meyer said. "Some of the stuff on the list is unique ...”
“Like what?”
"A carved lapis brooch. Lady gave us a good picture of it. Enameled Chinese beads. A wooden snuffbox. Stuff like that. If he's already hocked any of it, we may get lucky.”
"Important guy like him, he's probably got a fence," Parker said.
"He's important only because television's making him a hero," Byrnes said. "Otherwise, he's a small-time punk.”
"Tell me about it," Meyer said.
"What's with the nun?”
"Andy's got a good nun joke," Carella said. "Tell him your nun joke?”
"Yeah, fuck you," Parker said.
"It's an English nun joke," Kling said. "Petrol in a chamber pot,”
Willis said. Parker shook his head in disgust. "The nun," Byrnes prodded.
"She was worried about money," Carella said. "Who isn't ?”
“This is recent.”
“How recent?”
"First revealed it to another nun on the eleventh.”
“Also, she received some kind of letter," Brown said. "What kind of letter?”
"We don't know.”
"Something predicting a decision she'd already made," Carella said.
"Predicting?”
"Well ... it does sound mystical, I know.”
“What decision?”
“We don't know.”
“Where is this letter?”
“We don't know.”
"Someone broke into her apartment the day after the murder," Brown said. "Wiped the place out.”
“Looking for the letter?”
“Maybe.”
“The killer?”
“Maybe.”
"How'd you find out about this letter?”
"Priest named Father Clemente mentioned it,”
Carella said. "She told him about it.”
"Where does the priest fit in?”
"He's a friend. She had a lot of friends. We're working them now.”
"What's your thinking so far?”
“Blackmail," Brown said. "Blackmail? Why?”
"That's what we're trying to find out.”
"What could anyone hope to extort from a nun?”
Byrnes asked. "They're poor aren't they?”
"That's the catch," Brown agreed.
"Anyway, you blackmail people only if they've got something. to hide,”
Byres said.
"She did have something to hide," Carella said. "What?”
"Breast implants.”
"How do you hide big tits?" Parker asked, and laughed at his own rich humor.
"Is this a joke?" Byres said.
"I wish," Carella said.
"Breast implants," Byrnes said, and shook his head. "When did she have 'em done?”
"Blaney thinks within the past three to four years.”
“Was she a nun at the time?”
“Been a nun for the past six.”
"Working in "The Vatican Follies," Parker said, and laughed again.
"Hit your list of doctors," Byrnes said. "Reach back five, six years, find out who did the job. Find out why a nun wanted bigger tits to begin with. This is just what the archbishop needs, breast implants.
He's already screaming up a high mass.”
"How wide do you want to go?”
"Stick with the city for now. Where's she from originally?”
"Philadelphia.”
"Try there next, see if that's where she bought the tits.
Then reach out to wherever she entered the church.”
"San Diego.”
"But start here, we're not made of money. Andy, Hal, this blood bath is just what television's been looking for, let's clean it up fast.
Meyer, Bert, give them a hand on it. Put The Cookie Boy on the back burner. Small-time punk doesn't deserve our attention right now.”
But that was before the lab reported that the dirt and dust they'd vacuumed up from the Cooper bedroom and the hallway outste mtu m,u”
and several small specks of chocolate.
There were a hundred and fifty-nine board-certified plastic surgeons in Isola. Sixteen in Calm's Point. Eleven in Riverhead. Nine in Majesta. Six in Bethtown. They sent out flyers to all of them, requesting information on a woman named either Mary Vincent or Kate Cochran who may have had breast implant surgery performed within the past five years.