They clinked glasses.
"Cheers," Tommy said.
"Cheers," Carella said.
The fan on top of the dresser wafted warm air across the room. The windows - one over the sink, the other on the wall right-angled to the sofa - were wide open, but there wasn't a breeze stirring. Both men were wearing jeans and short-sleeved shirts. It was insufferably hot.
"So?" Carella said.
"What'd she tell you?"
"About the fight. About kicking you out."
"Yeah," Tommy said, and shook his head. "Did she say why?"
"She said you had someone else."
"But I don't."
"She thinks you do."
"But she's got no reason to believe that. I love her to death, what's the matter with her?"
Carella could remember organ music swelling to drown out the sound of joyful weeping in the church, his father's arm
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supporting Angela's hand as he led her down the center aisle to the altar where Tommy stood waiting . . .
"I told her there's nobody else but her, she's the only woman lever..."
. . . the priest saying a prayer and blessing the couple with holy water, Tommy sweating profusely, Angela's lips trembling behind her veil. It was the twenty-second day of June, Carella would never forget that day. Not only because it was the day his sister got married, but because it was also the day his twins were born. He remembered thinking he was the luckiest man alive. Twins!
"... but she keeps saying she knows there's somebody else."
Teddy sitting beside him, watching the altar, the church expectantly still. He remembered thinking his little sister was getting married. He remembered thinking we all grow up. For everything there is a season . . .
Do you, Thomas Giordano, take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife to live together in the state of holy matrimony? Will you love, honor, and keep her as a faithful . . .
... a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted . . .
"I've never cheated on her in my life," Tommy said. "Even when we were just going together . . . well, you know that, Steve. The minute I met her, I couldn't even look at another girl. So now she ..."
. . . and forsaking all others keep you alone unto her 'til death do you part?
Yes. I do.
And do you, Angela Louise Carella, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband to live together in the state of holy matrimony? Will you love, honor, and cherish him as a faithful woman is bound to do, in health, sickness, prosperity, and adversity . . .
Tommy lifting his bride's veil and kissing her fleetingly and with much embarrassment. The organ music swelling again.
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Smiling, the veil pulled back onto the white crown nestled in her hair, eyes sparkling, Angela . . .
"Why does she think you're cheating, Tommy?"
"Steve, she's pregnant, she's expecting any day now, you know what I mean? I think itts because we aren't having sex just now is why she thinks I've got somebody else . . ."
... a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing . . .
"I'm being completely honest with you. That's all I think it is."
"No other reason?"
"None."
"Nothing she could have got in her head . . .?"
"Nothing."
"Something you did . . .?"
"No."
"Something you said?"
"No."
"Tommy, look at me."
Their eyes met.
"Are you telling me the truth?"
"I swear to God," Tommy said.
Lieutenant Byrnes had advised him - everyone had advised him - to let the Four-Five run with it, stay out of it, he was too emotionally involved to do anything effective on the case. But this was now a week since his father had been shot and killed, and despite all the promises from the two detectives investigating the case, Carella hadn't heard a word from them. At nine o'clock that Tuesday morning, he called Riverhead.
The detective who answered the phone in the squadroom up there said his name was Haley. Carella told him who he was, and asked for either Detective Bent or Detective Wade.
"I think they're in the field already," Haley said.
"Can you beep them and ask them to give me a call?"
"What's this in reference to?"
"A case they're working."
"Sure, I'll beep them," Haley said.
But the way he said it made Carella think he had no intention of beeping anybody.
"Is your lieutenant in?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Would you put me through to him?"
"He's got somebody in with him just now."
"Just buzz him and tell him Detective Carella's on the line."
"I just told you ..."
"Pal," Carella said, and the single word was ominous with weight. "Buzz your lieutenant."
There was a long silence.
Then Haley said, "Sure."
A different voice came on the line a moment later.
"Lieutenant Nelson. How are you, Carella?"
"Fine, thank you, Lieutenant. I was wond. . ."
"I got a call from Lieutenant Byrnes a few days ago, asking me to give this case special attention, which I would have done anyway. Bent and Wade are out on it right this minute."
"I was wondering how they made out with that witness."
"Well, he turned out not to be as good as we thought. All of a sudden he couldn't remember this, couldn't remember that, you know what I mean? We figure he thought it over and chickened out. Which happens lots of times."
"Yeah," Carella said.
"But they're out right this minute, like I told you, chasing down something they came up with yesterday. So don't worry, we're on this, we won't..."
"What was it they came up with?"
"Let me see, I had their report here a minute ago, what the hell did I do with it? Just a second, okay?"
Carella could hear him muttering as he shuffled papers. He visualized a mountain of papers. At last, Nelson came back on the line. "Yeah," he said, "they been looking for this kid who told his girlfriend he saw the punks who shot your father running out of the shop. They got his name and address ..."
"Could I have those, sir? The name and . . ."
"Carella?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You want my advice?"
Carella said nothing.
"Let Bent and Wade handle it, okay? They're good cops. They'll get these guys, believe me. We won't disappoint you, believe me."
"Yes, sir."
"You hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Better this way."
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I "I know how you feel." ' "Thank you, sir."
"But it's better this way, believe me. They're out on it right this minute. They'll find those punks, believe me. Trust us, okay? We'll get'em." "I appreciate that."
"We'll stay in touch," Nelson said, and hung up. Carella wondered why the hell they hadn't stayed in touch till now.
The kid began running the moment he saw them.
He was standing on the corner, talking to two other guys, when Wade and Bent pulled up in the unmarked car. It was as if the car had neon all over it, blaring POLICE in orange and green. Wade opened the door on the passenger side and was stepping out onto the curb when the kid spotted him and started running. Bent, who'd been driving the car and who was also out of it by this time, yelled, "He's going, Randy!" and both men shouted, almost simultaneously, "Police! Stop!"
Nobody was stopping.
Neither were any guns coming out.
In this city, police rules and regs strictly limited the circumstances in which a weapon could be unholstered or fired. There was no felony in progress here, nor did the detectives have a warrant authorizing the arrest of a person known to be armed. The kid pounding pavement up ahead hadn't done anything, nor was he threatening them in any way that would have warranted using a firearm as a defensive weapon. The guns stayed holstered.
The kid was fast, but so were Wade and Bent. A lot of detectives in this city, they tended to run to flab. You rode around in a car all day long, you ate hamburgers and fries in greasy-spoon diners, you put on the pounds and you had a hell of a time taking them off again. But Wade and Bent worked out at the Headquarters gym twice a week, and chasing the kid hardly even made them breathe hard.