“No, honey, that wasn’t an actual entry,” he explained. “I’m just trying to make a point. Why should Kramer have asked for twenty-
Teddy began writing on the air. It took Carella a moment to realize she was doing imaginary addition.
“Sure, sure,” he said. “Twenty-one thousand and nine thousand equal thirty thousand-and that’s a nice round figure. You think maybe he asked his victim for it in two lumps?”
Teddy nodded.
“Then what about the third lump? And why weren’t the first and second lumps in even figures? There’s something funny about it, Teddy. And I keep thinking if we can find Kramer’s bunk, find his goddamn hiding place, we’ll learn a lot about those figures. Those are the biggest deposits he made, honey. We’re chasing around after the small potatoes, and we haven’t even an inkling to the identity of the big one-the one who
Again Teddy frowned.
“You know I love you dearly,” Carella said, grinning. “You’re a wonderful kid.” He paused. “I love you, kid-but, oh, that Mencken’s wife.”
Teddy tried a frown and then burst out laughing. She flung herself into his arms, and he said, “Hey, hey, how’m I ever gonna solve this case if you carry on like that?”
But he had already stopped thinking about the case.
OH, THAT COTTON HAWES.
On Tuesday morning, July ninth, he left the city.
It was truly a beautiful day, not too hot for July, but with the sun shining brightly overhead and a fresh breeze blowing in over the River Harb. He crossed the Hamilton Bridge, at the foot of which a dead blond girl had been found long before Hawes had been transferred to the 87th. The River Harb looked quiet and still that day. He went into the next state, following the Greentree Highway, which bounded the river, heading north. He drove with the top of his Ford down. His jacket rested on the seat beside him. He wore a sports shirt with wide alternating black and red stripes. He wore old Navy gray trousers. Hawes had once been a chief petty officer, and he still had most of his Navy clothes. He wore them often, not because of sentiment but simply because his cop’s salary didn’t allow the range to buy all the clothes he’d have liked to own.
The wind caught at his red hair as he drove along. The sun beat down on his head and shoulders. It was a good day, and he was beginning to feel in a slightly holiday mood, almost forgetting why he was driving to upstate New York. He remembered again when he passed Castleview Prison. He could look across the River Harb into his own state, and there he could see the gray walls of the prison merging with the sheer face of the cliff that dropped to the river’s edge below. Directly opposite, almost on the road he drove, was the castle from which the prison derived its name. The castle had allegedly been built by a Dutch patroom in the days of early settlement. It stared across the river and into the next state, providing an excellent view of the prison walls. And from the prison, the castle could be seen, and so it was called Castleview. He looked at the prison now with only passing interest. It would one day, in the not too distant future, become an integral part of his life, but he did not know that now, and he would not know it until long after the Kramer case had been solved.
On that July morning it only reminded him of crime and punishment, and it brought his thoughts back to the reason for his trip to the Adirondacks. When he stopped for lunch that afternoon, his mind began to wander because, alas, he fell in love.
The girl with whom he fell in love was a waitress.
She wore a white dress and a white cap on her clipped blond hair. She came to his table, and she smiled, and the smile knocked him clear back against the wall.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she said. When he heard her voice, he was hopelessly gone. “Would you care to see a menu?”
“I have a better idea,” Hawes said.
“What’s that?”
“Go back and change into your street clothes. Show me the best restaurant in town, and I’ll buy you lunch there.”
The girl looked at him with a half-amused, half-shocked expression on her face. “I’ve heard of speed demons,” she said, “but you just broke the sound barrier.”
“Life is sweet and short,” Hawes said.
“And you’re getting old,” the girl replied. “Even your hair’s turning white.”
“What do you say?”
“I say I don’t even know your name. I say I couldn’t possibly have lunch with you because I don’t get off until I’m relieved at four. I also say you’re from the city.”
“I am.” Hawes paused. “How’d you know?”
