The Frumious Bandersnatch (15 page)

Or else she was putting on one hell of an act.

“I thought that old buggy was a goner for sure,” she said. “Where'd you find it?”

“Are you Polly Olson?” Willis asked.

His eyes were looking past her into the apartment where a microwave dinner in a black plastic dish rested on a coffee table in front of which a television set was going. He was looking for two possible accomplices with two possible AK-47s. Parker was looking for the same thing. Their eyes must have been darting.

“How rude of me,” she said, “come in, come in,” and stepped aside, either to welcome them or to allow a clean line of fire for her shooter buddies. They stepped into the apartment. Nobody shot at them. Willis felt somewhat foolish.

“Ma'am?” he said. “Is it your Ford Explorer that was stolen?”

“It sure was! Man, that was fast!” she said. “You boys are to be commended.”

“When did you report the car missing, ma'am?” Parker asked, getting straight to the point. He was due to be relieved at eleven-forty-five, and it was now close to that—well, actually, it was only eight-thirty, but he didn't want to be delayed by a lot of bullshit here.

“This morning. When I went down right after breakfast,” she said. “I get up early every morning to move the car. It's alternate side of the street parking here. We can park it all night, but we have to move it in the morning. Even weekends. This is a busy street here, deliveries all the time.”

“So you went down at what time, lady?” Parker asked impatiently.

“Just before eight o'clock. It's illegal to park between eight
A.M.
and six. I was going to move the car across the street, and then walk over to church. As it was, I missed the nine o'clock mass because I had to report the car missing and all. From where I'd left it.”

“Where was that, ma'am?”

“Right in front of the building. It would've been safe there until eight o'clock. Which is why I went down a few minutes before. Only to discover somebody had already moved it
for
me. I came right upstairs and called the police. Took me forever to report it stolen. I missed nine o'clock mass, I told you.”

“What time did you move it last night, ma'am?”

“Five to six. That's what the signs say. Eight
A.M.
to six 6
P.M.
”

“So it had to've been stolen sometime after six last night, is that right?”

“Well, yes,” she said. “I was home all last night. Watching television,” she said. “Same as tonight,” she said, and her voice was suddenly so forlorn that Willis wanted to give her a hug. Her mention of the television set caused all of them to turn toward the screen, where for perhaps the twentieth time that day, the Valparaiso kidnapping tape was being aired.

“Do I have to go for the car right now?” she asked, looking suddenly frightened. “I mean…can it wait till morning?”

“Yes, ma'am, it can wait till morning,” Willis said, and was starting to give her the address of the One-Oh-Four, when all at once he heard himself saying, “In fact, I can stop by and drive you there, if you'd like.”

“Why that would be very nice, young man,” she said.

“Ten o'clock be all right?” he asked.

“Ten o'clock would be fine,” she said.

In the hallway outside, Parker said, “Love at first sight, Harold?”

“Fuck you,” Willis explained.

 

CARELLA
was complaining that he felt like the father of the bride. Sitting beside him on the living room sofa, Teddy watched his lips and his signing hands, and then she herself signed,
Well, in a sense you are.

“No, darling,” he said, enunciating every word clearly, emphasizing them with his hands so that she wouldn't miss their meaning or their importance to him, “not in
any
sense am I the father of the bride. I am the
son
of the bride, and I am the
brother
of the bride, but I am not in any way, shape, or form the
father
of the bride.”

Yes, but to your mother and Angela, you are the
father
of the bride,
Teddy insisted.

“Their perception has nothing to…”

You're the person who'll be giving them away.

“I know that. But that doesn't make me the
father
of the…”

At least they're not asking you to pay for the wedding.

“Oh, that'll be the day!” Carella said, and got off the sofa and began pacing. “My mother's marrying a big ginzo from…”

Steve!
her eyes snapped, and her fingers crackled.

“Is what he
is,
” Carella said. “He speaks English the way my
grand
father did when he first came to this country.”

Luigi happens to speak English
…

“Luigi! Couldn't he have picked a more…”

…as well as you do. And he's a very nice
…

“…wop-sounding…”

You ought to be ashamed of your
…

“…name? Luigi! Jesus
Christ!
”

Well, I'm not going to shout over you,
Teddy signed, and folded her hands in her lap.

The room went still.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

You should be,
Teddy signed.
It's going to be a lovely wedding.

“I'm sure it will be,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

But he was sure it would not be. Because the issue here wasn't that his mother was about to marry a man from Italy, a real
Italian,
mind you, not somebody who was born here and who called himself Italian for God knew what obscure reasons, but someone actually
from
Italy, this was not the issue. The issue was that his mother was getting married at
all.
And so soon after his father was murdered. Before the funeral meats were cold, so to speak.

Which was the
other
thing that rankled about this double wedding impending in June, next month, right around the corner, for which he had been unanimously declared father of the bride when he didn't even choose to be either brother or son of the bride,
brides,
damn it! Of all the men in this vast city, of all the available bachelors pounding on her door and sniffing at her heels, why had his sister chosen the man who'd prosecuted the case of the
People
v.
Cole,
and lost that case, allowed his father's murderer to walk free until another day? Why this particular man? Was there something fucking Electral about this? Something Carella was missing?

The telephone rang.

He looked up at the grandfather clock.

It was nine-thirty.

He went into the hall to answer it.

“Hello?” he said.

“Detective Carella, please.”

“Speaking.”

“This is Special Agent Stanley Endicott,” the voice on the other end said. “Is this Carella?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I'm not waking you, am I?”

“No, I'm awake.”

“I'm in command of the Joint Task Force here at Federal Square,” Endicott said. “We've been assigned the Valparaiso kidnapping, and I understand you were the officer who caught the initial complaint, is that correct?”

“Well, the Harbor Patrol was actually the first to respond,” Carella said, and wondered why whenever the FBI appeared on the scene he automatically started covering his ass.

“But you conducted the initial investigation, isn't that correct?”

“Yes, it is,” Carella said.

“Aboard the
River Princess,
is the information I have here.”

“Yes.”

“And you've been working the case since, more or less.”

Carella liked to think the old Eight-Seven had been giving it their all, but he said nothing.

“Have you come up with anything so far?” Endicott asked.

“We've been tracking a trio the Harbor Patrol stopped on the river, shortly before the kidnapping. We've got a name for the guy who rented a boat that may have been used, but that's all we've got. There's nothing on him in the computer, local, state, or federal. We're thinking he used a phony credit card.”

“What was the name?”

“Andy Hardy,” Carella said.

“Oh really?” Endicott said, and chuckled.

“We also have an eye witness to the boat coming back in before midnight last night…well, he didn't actually
see
the boat, but he gave us a good description of the three people who might've been on the boat…”

“
Might've
been,” Endicott said.

“We're fairly certain they're the ones who brought the boat in. A man and two women. They drove off in a black Ford Explorer…”

“
Fairly
certain,” Endicott said.

Carella was silent for a moment.

Then he said, “Do you want this or don't you?”

“I'm all ears,” Endicott said.

“So cut the editorials, okay? We've been busting our asses on this ever since we caught it.”

“I'm sure you have.”

“Look, call my lieutenant, okay? He's got all our reports, he'll give you everything you…”

“I'd rather hear it from you.”

“The Explorer was reported stolen at eight-thirty this morning. We checked with the owner, last time she saw the car was six last night, when she moved it per parking regulations. The boat the three hired—which may or may
not
have been the one used on the gig, before you repeat it back to me—was dusted by Mobile Crime top to bottom. It was wiped clean as a whistle. Also, we've set up a Tap and Tape
plus
a Trap and Trace in Barney Loomis' office. We expect…”

“So he told us.”

“We expect the perps to call with a ransom demand sometime tomorrow. The office was closed today, and they have no way of knowing his home number. Plus, the girl's parents are divorced and living, one in Mexico, the other in Europe someplace. So Loomis is the one the perps'll most likely contact.”

“So he told us,” Endicott said again.

“That's what we've done so far, and that's what we've got.”

“Which is essentially nothing,” Endicott said.

“Well, as I mentioned earlier,” Carella said, “maybe you ought to talk to my lieutenant. He can give you any further…”

“No, no, you've done splendidly,” Endicott said. “Not your fault these guys are smart. How about the crime scene itself? Has the lab come back to you with anything yet?”

“They said I'd have their report by six tonight. I waited in the office till seven.”

“Think it might be there now?”

“Possibly. I can call the squadroom…”

“If it's there, maybe you can bring it along with the rest of the stuff.”

“What stuff do you mean, Agent Endicott?”

“It's
Special
Agent Endicott, by the way, but you can call me Stan. What do people call you, Detective? Stephen? Steve? It says here Stephen Louis Car…”

“Steve. People call me Steve.”

“Steve, I'd like to go over whatever evidence you gathered at the scene…”

“There wasn't much.”

“What
ever
there was. It'd be in your DD report, wouldn't it?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Your various conversations with eye witnesses…”

“Yes.”

“Your own evaluation of the crime scene…”

“Yes, that would all be in our report.”

“Photographs…”

“Those would be coming from the lab.”

“Plus whatever else you may have got from Mobile this evening.”

“If there
is
anything else, yes, Stan. It was a big crime scene, they were very busy there, inside
and
outside the boat. The perps came up a ladder, you know, on the side of the boat…”

“So you're saying there might be footprint casts…”