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 that 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 jutting 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, that 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 to face 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.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Teddy nodded.
“Ain’t that sweet?” Dave said. “Big handsome hubby comes back from—”
Carella dropped his wife’s hand and stood suddenly. At the other end of the dining room, the elderly couple looked up from their meal.
“Mister,” Carella said slowly, “you’re bothering the hell out of me. You’d better—”
“Am I bothering you?” Dave said. “Hell, all I’m doing is admiring a nice piece of—” and Carella hit him.
He hit him suddenly, with the full force of his arm and shoulder behind the blow. He hit him suddenly and full in the mouth, and Dave staggered back from the table and slammed into the next table, knocking the wine bottle candle to the floor. He leaned on the table for a moment, and when he looked up, his mouth was bleeding, but he was still smiling.
“I was hoping you’d do that, pal,” he said. He studied Carella for a moment, and then he lunged at him.
Teddy sat with her hands clenched in her lap, her face white. She saw her husband’s face, and it was not the face of the man she knew and loved. The face was completely expressionless, the mouth a hard, tight line that slashed it horizontally, the eyes narrowed so that the pupils were barely visible, the nostrils wide and flaring. He stood spread-legged with his fists balled, and she looked at his hands, and they seemed bigger than they’d ever seemed before, big and powerful, lethal weapons that hung at his sides, waiting. His entire body seemed to be waiting. She could feel the coiled-spring tautness of him as he waited for Dave’s rush, and he seemed like a smoothly functioning, well-oiled machine in that moment, a machine which would react automatically as soon as the right button were pushed, as soon as the right lever were pressed. There was nothing human about the machine. All humanity had left Steve Carella the moment his fist had lashed out at Dave. What Teddy saw now was a highly trained and a highly skilled technician about to do his work, waiting for the response buttons to be pushed.
Dave did not know he was fighting a machine. Ignorantly, he pushed out at the buttons.
Carella’s left fist hit him in the gut, and he doubled over in pain, and then Carella threw a flashing uppercut, which caught Dave under the chin and sent him sprawling backward against the table again. Carella moved quickly and effortlessly, like a cue ball under the hands of an expert pool player, sinking one ball and then rolling to position for a good shot at the next ball. Before Dave clambered off the table, Carella was in position again, waiting.