"I tried to make sense of it later, after she died. Left me all that money. This is for Robert's freedom to risk enjoying life. That was guilt talking, wasn't it? That was her guilt for having ignored us both."
Silence again.
"Do you know what she did once? Elga?"
"What did she do?"
"I was eight years old."
"What did she do?"
"She took off her bloomers."
Bloomers. A child's expression.
"Showed herself to me."
Silence.
"I ran away from her and locked myself in the bathroom."
Silence.
"My mother found me in there when she got home from school. Elga said I'd been a bad boy. Told my mother I'd locked myself in the bathroom and wouldn't come out. My mother asked me why I'd done that. Elga was standing right there. I said I was afraid of the lightning. It was raining that day. Elga smiled. The next time we were alone together, she… she… forced me to…"
He sat up suddenly.
"Do you know the one about the guy who goes into a sex shop to buy a merkin? The clerk says, 'Did you want this sent, sir, or will you take it with you?' The guy says, 'No, I'll just eat it here.' " He laughed harshly and abruptly and then said, "How would you like me to eat
"Sure," she said.
"Then take off your bloomers."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"Come over here and take off your bloomers."
"You come here," Eileen said.
He stood up.
He put his right hand in his pocket.
She thought Yes, take out the knife, you son of a bitch.
And then she thought No, don't, Bobby.
And was suddenly confused again.
"Bobby," she said wearily, "I'm a cop."
"Sure," he said, "a cop."
"I don't want to hurt you," she said.
"Then don't bullshit me!" he said angrily. "I've had enough bullshit in my life!"
"I'm a cop," she said, and took the gun out of her bag, and leveled it at him. "Let's go find some help for you, okay?"
He looked at her. A smile cracked over his face.
"Is this a trick?" he said.
"No trick. I'm a cop. Let's go, okay?"
"Go where? Where do you want to go, baby?" He was still smiling.
But his hand was still in his pocket.
"Find some people you can talk to," she said.
"About what? There's nothing I have to say to…"
"Put the knife on the floor, Bobby,"
She was standing now, almost in a policeman's crouch, the gun still leveled at him.
"What knife?" he said.
"The knife in your pocket, Bobby. Put it on the floor."
*'I don't have a knife," he said.
"You have a knife, Bobby. Put it on the floor."
He took the knife out of his pocket.
"Good, now put it on the floor," she said.
"Suppose I don't?" he said.
"I know you will, Bobby."
"Suppose I lock myself in the bathroom instead?"
"No, you won't do that, Bobby. You're going to put the knife on the floor…"
"Like a good little boy, huh?"
"Bobby… I'm not your mother, I'm not Elga, I'm not going to hurt you. Just drop the knife on the floor…"
"Listen to the shrink," he said. "You're a fucking
"Bobby, please drop the knife."
"Say pretty please," he said, and the blade snicked open.
The gun was in her hand, she had him cold.
"Don't move," she said.
The policeman's crouch more defined now, more deliberate.
He took a step toward her.
"I'm warning you, don't move!"
"Do you know the one about the guy who goes into a bank to hold it up? He sticks the gun in the teller's face and says, 'Don't muss a moovle, this is a fuck-up!' "
Another step toward her.
"This isn't fun anymore," he said, and sliced the knife across the air between them.
"Whoosh," he said.
And came at her.
Her first bullet took him in the chest, knocking him backward toward the bed. She fired again almost at once, hitting him in the shoulder this time, spinning him around, and then she fired a third time, shooting him in the back, knocking him over onto the bed, and then—she would never understand why—she kept shooting into his lifeless body, watching the eruptions of blood along his spine, saying over and over again, "I gave you a chance, I gave you a chance," until the gun was empty.
Then she threw the gun across the room and began screaming.
Some people never change.
Genero didn't even seem to know she couldn't hear him.
He was there at the hospital to tell Carella what a hero he'd been, shooting four teenagers who'd firebombed a building.
He sat in the hallway talking to Teddy, who was praying her husband wouldn't die, praying her husband wasn't already dead.
"… and all at once they came running out," he said, "Steve would've been proud of me. They threw the firebomb at me, but that didn't scare me, I…"
A doctor in a green surgical gown was coming down the hallway.
There was blood on the gown.
She caught her breath.
"Mrs. Carella?" he said.
She read his lips.
At first she thought he said, "We shot him."
A puzzled look crossed her face.
He repeated it.
"We got it," he said.
She let out her breath.
"He'll be okay," the doctor said.
"He'll be okay," Genero repeated.
She nodded.
And then she cupped her hands to her face and began weeping.
Genero just sat there.
Annie talked to him in the hallway of the Seven-Two.
