Together the men walked toward the building where the absent 8-3-7 numerals left stark reminders on the entrance wall. The barricade was gone from the front door, fragments of wood still clinging to the door frame where the boards had been torn free. Carella walked into the building first, gun hand leading him. He heard a frenzied scurrying and squealing up ahead, and stopped dead in his tracks.
He did not appreciate rats.
When he and Teddy had been living in their Riverhead house for just a week, he’d opened the basement door and was heading downstairs when he spotted a rat the size of an alley cat sitting on the steps, staring up at him with his beady little eyes and twitching whiskers. He’d slammed the door shut at once, whirled on Teddy, and frantically signed,
He definitely did not appreciate rats.
“What the hell is
Into the phone, Carella said, “The place is overrun with rats. Tell me what you want us to do, okay?”
“Go up to the first floor. Apartment 14. The numerals are still on the door.”
“Are you walking us into a trap?” Carella asked.
“You’ve got a gun in your hand,” Avery reminded him.
They started up the steps, Carella in the lead. The hand railing was gone. They braced themselves against the opposite wall. The building stank of garbage and human waste. Loomis covered his nose with a handkerchief. Carella felt like wretching. A single unboarded window on the first-floor landing cast uncertain light into the hallway. Apartment 14 was the fourth door down the hall.
“We’re here,” Carella said into the phone.
“Go inside.”
They went into the apartment. They were standing in the middle of a small kitchen. There were still boards on the only window in the room. In the semi-darkness, they heard the scurrying of more rats.
A dead Golden Retriever lay on the floor in front of a gas range that had been disconnected and overturned.
It looked as if the dog’s throat had been recently slit.
Flies were still buzzing around the open wound.
“Do you see the dog?” Avery asked.
“Yes?”
“That’s what we’ll do to the girl if there are any tricks.”
Carella said nothing.
“See the refrigerator?” Avery asked.
“Yes?”
“Open the door, Steve.”
Carella opened the door.
“The fridge doesn’t work, Steve,” Avery said. “No electricity in the building. I hope you didn’t bring us hot money.”
He sounded almost jovial now. Big joke here, the son of a bitch. Slits a dog’s throat, rats running all over the place, he jokes about hot money.
“What do you want me to do here?” Carella asked.
“You sound peeved, Steve.”
Carella said nothing.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“What did you ask?”
“Is the money hot?”
“No.”
“I certainly hope it’s not marked or anything.”
“It’s not marked.”
“Because I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the girl.”
“It’s not marked. Just tell me what you want me to do, okay?”
“What’s he saying?” Loomis asked.
Carella shook his head.
“Put the dispatch case on one of the shelves, Steve.”
Carella slid the case onto the shelf under the ice cube compartment.
“Now close the door and hang up. When you’re outside the building, I’ll call again.”
Carella closed the refrigerator door, and hit the END button.
“Let’s go,” he told Loomis.
They stepped out into the hallway again. Everywhere around them, there was the sound of chittering little creatures in the near-dark, glittering little eyes suddenly disappearing as the rats turned and ran off. He remembered being a rookie, remembered other cops telling him about babies in their cribs getting their faces chewed to ribbons by rats. Moving slowly and cautiously, he scraped his feet along the floor, feeling his way toward the stairwell.
“Here it is,” he told Loomis.
With his right hand, he felt for the wall again. With his left foot, he reached out for the first stair tread, afraid he would step on a rat. Behind him, Loomis said, “He’s gone too far. Why’d he kill that dog?”
“To show us he’s serious,” Carella said.
“That wasn’t the deal.”
“He wanted me along to bear witness. So I’d go back and tell the others he’s serious about killing the girl.”
“We already knew that. He already
“Show is better than tell, Mr. Loomis.”
“That wasn’t the deal,” Loomis said again, sounding very much like a petulant child. “Nobody gets hurt, that was the deal. He didn’t have to kill the goddamn dog.”
They came down the stairs and out of the building. Both men blinked against the sunlight.
“Do you think they’re holding her in one of these buildings?” Loomis asked.
“I hope not,” Carella said.
The phone rang immediately.
“Hello?” Carella said.
“This is what I want you and Mr. Loomis to do,” Avery said. “Are you listening?”
“I’m listening.”
“Walk back to the car. Put the phone to your ear again when you get there.”
The two men walked back to the limo. Carella put the phone to his ear again.
“We’re here,” he said.
