Tommy walked to where a sink, a row of cabinets, a Formica countertop, a range, and a refrigerator occupied one entire wall of the room. He cracked open an ice-cube tray, took down a fresh bottle of Gordon's gin from one of the cabinets, sliced a lime in half, squeezed and dropped the separate halves into two tall glasses decorated with cartoon characters Carella didn't recognize, and mixed two hefty drinks that he then carried back to where Carella was already sitting on the sofa.
They clinked glasses.
"Cheers," Tommy said.
"Cheers," Carella said.
The fan on top of the dresser wafted warm air across the room. The windows - one over the sink, the other on the wall right-angled to the sofa - were wide open, but there wasn't a breeze stirring. Both men were wearing jeans and short-sleeved shirts. It was insufferably hot.
"So?" Carella said.
"What'd she tell you?"
"About the fight. About kicking you out."
"Yeah," Tommy said, and shook his head. "Did she say why?"
"She said you had someone else."
"But I don't."
"She thinks you do."
"But she's got no reason to believe that. I love her to death, what's the matter with her?"
Carella could remember organ music swelling to drown out the sound of joyful weeping in the church, his father's arm supporting Angela's hand as he led her down the center aisle to the altar where Tommy stood waiting . . .
"I told her there's nobody else but her, she's the only woman lever…"
. . . the priest saying a prayer and blessing the couple with holy water, Tommy sweating profusely, Angela's lips trembling behind her veil. It was the twenty-second day of June, Carella would never forget that day. Not only because it was the day his sister got married, but because it was also the day his twins were born. He remembered thinking he was the luckiest man alive. Twins!
"… but she keeps saying she knows there's somebody else."
Teddy sitting beside him, watching the altar, the church expectantly still. He remembered thinking his little sister was getting married. He remembered thinking we all grow up. For everything there is a season . . .
Do you, Thomas Giordano, take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife to live together in the state of holy matrimony? Will you love, honor, and keep her as a faithful . . .
… a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted . . .
"I've never cheated on her in my life," Tommy said. "Even when we were just going together . . . well, you know that, Steve. The minute I met her, I couldn't even look at another girl. So now she …"
. . . and forsaking all others keep you alone unto her 'til death do you part?
Yes. I do.
And do you, Angela Louise Carella, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband to live together in the state of holy matrimony? Will you love, honor, and cherish him as a faithful woman is bound to do, in health, sickness, prosperity, and adversity . . .
Tommy lifting his bride's veil and kissing her fleetingly and with much embarrassment. The organ music swelling again.
Smiling, the veil pulled back onto the white crown nestled in her hair, eyes sparkling, Angela . . .
"Why does she think you're cheating, Tommy?"
"Steve, she's pregnant, she's expecting any day now, you know what I mean? I think itts because we aren't having sex just now is why she thinks I've got somebody else . . ."
… a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing . . .
"I'm being completely honest with you. That's all I think it is."
"No other reason?"
"None."
"Nothing she could have got in her head . . .?"
"Nothing."
"Something you did . . .?"
"No."
"Something you said?"
"No."
"Tommy, look at me."
Their eyes met.
"Are you telling me the truth?"
"I swear to God," Tommy said.
Lieutenant Byrnes had advised him - everyone had advised him - to let the Four-Five run with it, stay out of it, he was too emotionally involved to do anything effective on the case. But this was now a week since his father had been shot and killed, and despite all the promises from the two detectives investigating the case, Carella hadn't heard a word from them. At nine o'clock that Tuesday morning, he called Riverhead.
The detective who answered the phone in the squadroom up there said his name was Haley. Carella told him who he was, and asked for either Detective Bent or Detective Wade.
"I think they're in the field already," Haley said.
"Can you beep them and ask them to give me a call?"
"What's this in reference to?"
"A case they're working."
"Sure, I'll beep them," Haley said.
But the way he said it made Carella think he had no intention of beeping anybody.
"Is your lieutenant in?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Would you put me through to him?"
"He's got somebody in with him just now."
"Just buzz him and tell him Detective Carella's on the line."
"I just told you …"
"Pal," Carella said, and the single word was ominous with weight. "Buzz your lieutenant."
There was a long silence.
Then Haley said, "Sure."
A different voice came on the line a moment later.
"Lieutenant Nelson. How are you, Carella?"
"Fine, thank you, Lieutenant. I was wond. . ."
