"Come in," she said, "I'll make some coffee." They went into the apartment. Jackson closed the door behind them, double-bolted it, and put on the safety chain. The apartment was cold; in this city, in this building, they couldn't expect heat to start comin up till six-thirty, seven o'clock. The radiators will begin clanging then, loud enough to wake the dead. Meanwhile, all was silent, all was chilly. The children wanted to hang around. This was better than TV. Jackson hushed them off to bed again. Husband and wife sat at the small kitchen table with the two detectives, drinking coffee like family. This was A.M." it was pitch-black outside. They could hear police sirens, ambulance sirens wailing into the night. All four of them could tell the difference; sirens the nocturnes of this city.
"That car was a headache minute it come in," Jackson said. "I'da been the night man, I'da tole go get a tow truck, haul that wreck outta here, trouble'n it's worth. Had to turn away two, three cars the next day, cause Gus had that damn Caddy on the lift. When I finely figured we were done with it. I come in yesterday mornin, the car's a mess. Man' coming in to pick it up at ten, it's a mess like I seen before in my life."
"What do you mean? Was there still trouble with the engine?" Carella asked.
"No, no. This was inside the car."
Both detectives looked at him, puzzled. So did his wife.
"Somebody musta left the window open when they moved it outside," Jackson said.
They were still looking at him, all three of them trying to figure out what kind of mess he was talkin about.
"You see The Birds he asked. "That movie Alfred Hitchcock wrote.?"
Carella didn't think Hitchcock had written it. "Birds tryin'a kill people all over the place?"
"Whut about it?" Mrs. Jackson asked impatiently.
"Musta been birds got in the car," Jackson said. "Maybe cause it was so cold."
"What makes you figure that?" Hawes asked reasonably.
"Bird shit and feathers all over the place," Jackson said. "Hadda put Abdul to cleanin it up fore the man came to claim his car. Never seen such a mess in my life. Birds're smart, you know. I read someplace when they was shootin that movie, the crows used to pick the locks on their cages, that's how smart they are. Musta got in the car."
"How? Did you notice a window down?"
"Rear window on the right was open about six inches, yeah."
"You think somebody left that window open overnight?"
"Had to've been."
"And a bird got in, huh?"
"At least a few birds. There was shit and feathers all over the place."
"Where was all this?" Carella asked.
"The backseat," Jackson said.
"And you asked Abdul to clean it up, huh?"
"Directly when he come in Saturday mornin. I seen the mess put him to work right away."
"Was he alone in the car?"
"Alone, yeah."
"You didn't see him going into that compartment, did you?"
"Nossir."
"Fiddling around anywhere in the front seats."
"No, he was busy cleanin up the mess in back."
"Did you watch him all the time he was in the car?"
"No, I din't. There was plenty other work to do."
"How long was he in the car?"
"Hour or so. Vacuuming, wiping. It was some you better believe it.
Man came to pick it up at ten, was spotless. Never've known some birds was nesting in it overnight."
"But the birds were already gone when you noticed, that open window, huh?"
"Oh yeah, long gone. Just left all their feathers and shit."
"I wish you'd watch your mouth," Mrs.
Jackson said, frowning.
"You figure they got out the same way they got in Hawes asked.
"Musta, don't you think?"
Hawes was wondering how they'd managed a little trick.
So was Carella.
"Well, thank you," he said, "we appreciate your time. If you can remember anything else, here's my…"
"Like what?" Jackson asked.
"Like anyone near that glove compartment."
"I already tole you I didn't see anyone near the glove compartment."
"Well, here's my card, anyway," Carella said. "If you think of anything at all that might help us… "Just don't come around five o'clock again,"
Jackson said.
Mrs. Jackson nodded.
What we'd like to do," Carella said on the phone, "is send someone around for the car and have our people go over it."
"What?" Pratt said.
This was a quarter past five in the morning. Carella was calling from a cell phone in the police sedan. Hawes was driving. They were on their way to Calm's Point, where Abdul Sikhar lived.
"When do I get some sleep here?" Pratt asked.
"I didn't mean someone coming by right this minute. If we can…"
"I'm talking about you waking me up right this minute."
I'm sorry about that, but we want to check out the car, find out…"
"So I understand. Why?"
"Find out what happened inside it."
"What happened is somebody stole my gun."
"That's what we're working on, Mr. Pratt. Which is why we'd like our people to go over the interior."
"What people?"
"Our techs."
"Looking for what?"
Carella almost said feathers and shit. "Whatever they can find," he said. "You're lucky it's Sunday," Pratt said. "Sir?"
"I'm not working today."
