"Yes. It was about that time." As if on cue, somewhere in the shop a clock began chiming the hour. "A Joseph Knibb," Mott said, almost idly. "Quite rare, quite valuable, such lovely chimes."
The clock chimed six times.
Mott looked at his watch.
"Well, I guess that's it," Brown said. "Thanks a lot, Mr Mott."
"Thanks," Kling said.
The moment they were out on the street again, Brown said, "You think he's gay?"
"He was wearing a wedding band."
"I caught it. That doesn't mean anything."
"What's a butler's table?" Kling asked.
"I don't know," Brown said, and looked up at the sky. "I hope Carella gets good weather tomorrow," he said.
Deputy Inspector William Cullen Brady was telling the trainees that he took no credit for organizing the hostage negotiating team. Listening to him, Eileen felt uncomfortable because she thought she was overdressed.
This was the first meeting of the training class.
Thursday morning, the nineteenth day of July. Nine o'clock.
For work she'd normally have worn either slacks or a wide skirt, comfortable shoes, big tote bag - unless they were dolling her up for the street. But she hadn't decked herself out as a decoy since the night she'd killed Robert Wilson. Bobby. She supposed that was known as shirking the work. Not precisely doing the job for which she was getting paid. Which was why she was here today, she guessed. So she could go back to doing an honest job someplace in the department.
She was wearing a simple suit, brown to complement her red hair and green eyes, tan blouse with a stock tie, sand-colored pantyhose, low-heeled pumps, fake alligator-skin bag. Service revolver in the bag, alongside the lipstick. Overdressed for sure. The only other woman in the room, a tiny brunette with a hard, mean look, was wearing jeans and a white cotton T-shirt. Most of the men were dressed casually, too. Slacks, sports shirts, jeans, only one of them wearing a jacket.
There were five trainees altogether. Three men, two women. Brady was telling them that the unit had been organized by former chief of patrol Ralph McCleary when he was still a captain some twenty years back. "… never would have been a team," he was saying. "We'd still be breaking down doors and going in with shotguns. His ideas worked then, and they still work. I take credit for only one new concept. I put women on the team. We've already got two women in the field, and I hope to have another two out there …"
A nod and a smile to Eileen and the brunette.
". . .by the time we finish this training program."
Brady was in his early fifties, Eileen supposed, a tall, trim man with bright blue eyes and a fringe of white hair circling his otherwise bald head. Nose a bit too prominent for his otherwise small features. Gave his face a cleaving look. He was the only man in the room wearing a tie. Even Dr Goodman, who sat beside him at the desk in front of the classroom, was casually dressed in a plaid sports shirt and dark blue slacks.
"Before we get started," Brady said, "I'd like to take a minute to introduce all of you. I'll begin here on the left . . . my left, that is … with Detective/First Grade Anthony . . . am I pronouncing this correctly . . . Anthony Pellegrino?"
"Yes, sir, that's it, Pellegrino, like the mineral water."
Short and wiry, with dark curly hair and brown eyes. Badly pockmarked face. Olive complexion. Eileen wondered why Brady had questioned the pronunciation of a simple name like Pellegrino. Especially when it was the brand name of a widely known mineral water. Hadn't Brady ever been to an Italian restaurant? But there were people in this city who got thrown by any name ending in an o, an a, or an i. Maybe Brady was one of them. She hoped not.
"Detective/First Grade Martha Halsted …"
The petite brunette with the Go-to-Hell look. Cupcake breasts, the narrow hips of a boy.
"Martha's with the Robbery Squad," Brady said.
Figures, Eileen thought.
"I forgot to mention, by the way, that Tony's with Safe, Loft and Truck."
He kept going down the line, Detective/Third Grade Daniel Riley of the Nine-Four, Detective/Second Grade Henry Materasso - had no trouble pronouncing that one - of the Two-Seven, and last but not least Detective/Second Grade Eileen Burke . . .
"Eileen is with Special Forces." *
Martha Halsted looked her over.
"I'm not sure whether Dr Goodman …"
"Mike'll do," Goodman said, and smiled.
"I'm not sure whether Mike" - a smile, a nod - "explained during the interviews that while you're attached to the hostage unit, you'll continue in your regular police duties …"
Oh, terrific, Eileen thought.
". . . but you'll be on call here twenty-four hours a day. As I'm sure you know, hostage situations come up when we least expect them. Our first task is to get there fast before anyone gets hurt. And once we're on the scene, our job is to make sure that nobody gets hurt. That means nobody. Not the hostages and not the hostage-takers, either."
"How about us, Inspector?"
