Til Death (5 page)

“I’m not a louse. I’m a loving brother.”

“I feel better, Steve. Thank you.”

“For what? Get dressed. Your blue garter is very pretty.”

“Go to hell,” she said, and he closed the door behind him, chuckling.

The boy’s name was Ben Darcy.

He was twenty-six years old, with bright blue eyes and an engaging grin. He wore a blue mohair suit, and he walked across the back lawn with a long-legged lope, coming to a stop before the back porch where Tony Carella sat with his guests.

“Hello, Mr. Carella,” he said. “Lots of activity going on. Are you excited?”

“The caterers,” Tony said, looking out across the lawn at what seemed to be miles of white tablecloth. “You’re early, Ben. The reception doesn’t start until five.”

“But the wedding’s at three. You don’t think I’d miss Angela’s wedding, do you?”

“I think maybe she’s gonna miss it herself,” Tony said. “You know my daughter-in-law, Teddy? This is Ben Darcy.”

“I think I’ve seen you before, Mrs. Carella,” Ben said. Teddy nodded. Her back was killing her. She wanted to ask for a straight chair, but she knew Tony had given her the most comfortable chair on the porch, and she did not want to offend him.

“And these are some friends of my son,” Tony said. “Miss Maxwell, Mr. Hawes, and Mr. Kling. Ben Darcy.”

“Just call me Ben,” Ben said, shaking hands all around. “I’ve known the Carellas so long I feel like a part of the family. Is there anything I can do to help, Mr. Carella?”

“Nothing. Just keep out of the way. For setting up those tables and things, they’re making me a poor man.” He wagged his head forlornly.

“He’s the richest man on the block,” Ben said, grinning. “Everybody in the neighborhood knows that.”

“Sure, sure,” Tony said.

“When we were kids, he used to give out free rolls at the back door of his bakery. But then he started pinching pennies. No more rolls.” Ben shrugged.

“It was a free Salvation Army soup kitchen there,” Tony said. “I figured out one day I was giving away five hundred rolls a week to kids who come to the back door! I also figured out it was the parents sending the kids around to suck Tony Carella’s blood. No more rolls! Absolutely not! Cash on the line! No credit in my bakery!”

“He still gives away rolls,” Ben said warmly. “All you need is a hard-luck story, and Tony Carella begins weeping. If the story’s good enough, he’ll give you the whole damn bake shop.”

“Sure, sure. The Rockefeller Foundation, that’s me. I’m in business for my health.”

Ben nodded, grinning. Idly, he asked, “Are you gentlemen in the baking line, too?”

Kling, ready to answer, glanced at Hawes first. Sitting with the sunlight glowing in his red hair, the white streak starkly naked against the flaming crimson, Hawes resembled nothing less than a baker. He caught Kling’s eye and said, “No, we’re not bakers.”

“That’s right,” Ben said. “You’re friends of Steve, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you policemen?”

“Us?” Hawes said. He laughed convincingly. “Hell, no.”

Teddy and Christine looked at him curiously, but they did not betray puzzlement.

“We’re theatrical agents,” Hawes lied unashamedly. “Hawes and Kling, perhaps you’ve heard of us.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Yes,” Hawes said. “Miss Maxwell is one of our clients. She’s going to be a big star one day, this girl.”

“Oh, really?” Ben said. “What do you do, Miss Maxwell?”

“I…” Christine started, and then stopped.

“She’s an exotic dancer,” Hawes supplied, and Christine shot him an angry glare.

“An exot—?” Ben said.

“She strips,” Hawes explained. “We’ve been trying to convince Mr. Carella here to let Christine pop out of the wedding cake, but he doesn’t think it’s such a good idea.”

Tony Carella laughed. Ben Darcy looked unconvinced.

“Hawes and Kling,” Hawes repeated. “If you ever become interested in show business, give us a ring.”

“I will,” Ben said. “But I don’t think I’ll ever become interested in show business. I’m studying to be a dentist.”

“That’s a noble profession,” Hawes said. “But it lacks the glamour of the entertainment world.”

“Oh, teeth can be pretty exciting,” Ben said.

“I’m sure,” Hawes answered, “but what can compare to the fever pitch of opening night? Nothing! There’s no business like show business.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ben said, “but I’m glad I’m studying dentistry. I imagine I’ll go into periodontal work later on.” He paused. “It was Angela who first convinced me to become a professional man, you know.”

“I didn’t know,” Hawes said.

“Oh yes. I used to date her. Date her? Hell, I began taking her out when she was seventeen and I guess I camped here on the Carella doorstep for the next five years. Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Carella?”

“Yes, he was a pest,” Tony agreed.

“She’s a wonderful girl,” Ben said. “Tommy’s a very lucky guy. There aren’t many girls like Angela Carella around.”

The screen door behind Ben clattered shut. He turned abruptly. Steve Carella came out onto the porch.

His father looked up. “She’s all right?” he asked.

“She’s all right,” Carella said.

“Girls,” Tony said mysteriously, and he shook his head.

“Hello, Ben,” Carella said. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. You?”

“So-so. You’re a little early, aren’t you?”

“I guess so. I was just out for a walk, thought I’d stop by to see if I could lend a hand. Is Angela all right?”

“She’s fine.”

“Everything seems to be okay at Tommy’s house. The limousine’s there already.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Sitting in Tommy’s driveway when I walked by there.”

“Good. Then I better get started.” He looked at his watch. “Honey, Bert and I will be riding with Tommy. You don’t mind, do you?”

Teddy looked up at him. He could read in an instant any nuance on her mobile face. Deprived of speech since birth, her face had become a tool of expression so that meaning was instantly transmitted through her eyes and lips. He had expected displeasure at his announcement but, reading her face now, he saw only puzzlement and realized she had not “heard” him.
Standing behind her as he’d spoken, he had not shown her his lips to read. He knelt beside her chair now.

“Bert and I are going to the church in Tommy’s car. Is that all right with you?”

There was still no displeasure on her face. The puzzlement remained, and with it came a suspicious narrowing of the eyes. He knew in that moment that he had not fooled his wife. He had not told her of the incident with the black widow spider, but Teddy Carella—in her silent world—had already fathomed that something was amiss. The presence of Hawes and Kling was not the fulfillment of a social amenity. They were here as policemen, not wedding guests. She nodded, and then reached up to kiss him.

“I’ll see you at the church,” he said. “Are you all right?”

She nodded again. Her back was still killing her, but she sensed her husband had more important things on his mind than the trials of pregnancy. She flashed a sudden, radiant smile. Carella squeezed her hand. “Come on, Bert,” he said.

A black Cadillac limousine was parked in the driveway on the blind side of the Giordano house when Carella and Kling arrived. The car sat far back from the street, at the end of the concrete strips, close to the garage. The driver was nowhere in sight.

As they walked up onto the front porch, Kling said, “I make it for a gag, Steve. I think we’re going to a lot of trouble for nothing.”

“Well, maybe,” Carella answered, and he rang the doorbell. “It doesn’t hurt to be careful, though, does it?”

“I guess not. I get the feeling, however, that Cotton would much rather be elsewhere with his blonde.” He paused. “But… that’s show biz.”

“Huh?” Carella said, and Tommy opened the door.

“Steve, hi! Come on in. I was just dressing. Do you know how to tie a bow tie? I’ve been trying for the past half-hour and getting nowhere. Come on in.” He looked at Kling curiously.

“Bert Kling,” Carella said, “Tommy Giordano, my future brother-in-law. Bert’s with the squad, Tommy.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Come on in. I feel pretty silly about all this, Steve. I think it’s a gag.”

Kling caught Carella’s eye. “Well, gag or not,” Carella said, “Bert and another friend of mine will be at the wedding and the reception.”

“I appreciate what you’re doing, Steve,” Tommy said, “but in thinking it over, I’m pretty sure it was a gag. Come on into the bedroom, will you?”

They followed him through the house. In the bedroom, Tommy took a white tie from the dresser top and handed it to Carella. “Here,” he said. “See what you can do with this damn thing, will you?”

He faced Carella. He lifted his chin, and Carella began working on the tie.

“I checked on Sokolin,” Carella said.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to start worrying…but he’s in this city. Got out of jail in April.”

“Oh.”

“Still think it’s a gag?”

“Gee, I don’t know. You think a guy would carry a grudge all this time? For something that happened in Korea? Or really, for something that didn’t even—”

“Were you in Korea?” Kling asked, interested.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

“Army?”

“Yeah.”

“I was in the Signal Corps,” Tommy said. “With the Tenth Army Corps at the Inchon landings.”

“I was in on the Seoul liberation,” Kling said. “With the Ninth Corps.”

“Under General Walker?”

“Yes.”

“Hell, we linked up with the First and Ninth around Seoul!” Tommy said. “Jesus, I’ll bet we were close enough to touch.”

“You were on the drive to the Yalu?”

“Sure.”

“How do you like that?” Kling said. “It’s a small world, all right.”

“And you’re a cop now, huh?”

“Yes. What are you doing?”

“I work in a bank,” Tommy said. “I’m training to be an executive.” He shrugged. “It’s not really what I want to be.”

“What do you want to be?”

“I’d like to be a baseball announcer. I used to be a pretty good catcher when I was a kid. I know the game inside out and backwards. Ask Jonesy when he gets back.” He turned to Carella. “You didn’t happen to see him downstairs, did you?”

“Who?” Carella said. “There. Your tie’s tied.”

“Jonesy. My best man. My best
friend,
too. He went downstairs about a half-hour ago, said he needed some air.”

“Was he in a monkey suit?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t see anybody dressed for a wedding. Did you, Bert?”

“No.”

“Well, he’ll be back,” Tommy said. “Jesus, I hope he has the ring. What time is it, Steve?”

“Two o’clock. You’ve still got an hour. Relax.”

“Well, I’m supposed to get there a little earlier, you know. I’ve got to go back to the rectory. I’m not supposed to see the bride until she comes down the aisle. Your mother is a lulu, Steve.”

“How so?”

“I’m not complaining. She’ll probably make an excellent mother-in-law. But I called a little while ago, and she wouldn’t even let me
talk
to Angela. That’s going a little far, don’t you think?”

“She was dressing,” Carella said.

“Yeah?” Tommy’s eyes glowed. “How does she look? Beautiful, I’ll bet.”

“Beautiful.”

“Yeah, I knew it. Was she nervous?”

“Very.”

“Me, too. You want some coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

“A little drink?”

“No. Do you want to hear about Sokolin?”

“Sokolin? Who’s—? Oh, sure. Sure.” Tommy pulled on his jacket. “There. I’m all set. How do I look? Did I shave close enough?”

“You shaved close enough.”

“I’ll probably need another one by the time we check in tonight. I’ve got a heavy beard. You blond guys are lucky, Bert. Do I look all right, Steve? Is the tie straight?”

“The tie’s straight.”

“Good. Then I’m ready to go. You think we ought to leave now? It’s past two, isn’t it?”

“I think you ought to do something before you leave,” Carella said.

“Yeah? What?”

“Put on your pants.”

Tommy looked down at his hairy legs. “Oh, God! Oh, Jesus! Boy, am I glad you’re here! How could a guy forget to do something he does every day of his life? Boy!” He shucked the jacket and took his black trousers from a hanger in the closet. “What about Sokolin?”

“He spent a year in jail because he got into an argument about his dead Korean buddy.”

“That doesn’t sound so good.”

“It sounds pretty lousy. I don’t imagine he’s got much love in his heart for you.”

A knock sounded at the front door. Tommy looked up and then slipped his suspenders over his shoulders. “Steve, would you get that, please? It’s probably Jonesy.”

Carella went to the front door and opened it. The boy standing there was about Tommy’s age, twenty-six or twenty-seven. He wore his brown hair short. His gray eyes were alight with excitement. He looked very handsome in his tuxedo and his white starched shirt-front. Seeing Carella’s similar uniform, he extended his hand and said, “Hi. Usher?”

“Nope. Relative,” Carella said. He took the hand. “Steve Carella. Brother of the bride.”

“Sam Jones. Best man. Call me Jonesy.”

“Okay.”

“How’s our groom?”

“Nervous.”

“Who isn’t? I had to get out for a walk or I’d lose my mind.” They went through the house into the bedroom. “You okay, Tommy?” Jonesy asked.

“I’m fine. I was ready to walk out of here without my pants, how do you like that?”

“Par for the course,” Jonesy said.

“You’ve got dirt on your knees,” Tommy said, looking down at his best man’s trousers.

“What?” Jonesy followed his glance. “Oh, hell, I knew it. I tripped on the front step going out. Damn it!” He began brushing vigorously at his trousers.

“Do you have the ring?”

“Yep.”

“Check.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Check anyway.”

Jonesy stopped brushing his pants and stuck his forefinger into his vest pocket. “It’s there. Ready for delivery. Jones to Giordano.”

“Jonesy used to pitch on our team,” Tommy said. “I caught. I already told you that, didn’t I?”

“Jones to Giordano,” Jonesy said again. “He was a damn good catcher.”

“You did all the work,” Tommy said, zipping up his fly. “There. Now for the jacket. Have I got my shoes on?” He looked down at his feet.

“He was like this before every game,” Jonesy said, grinning. “I know this guy since he was three years old, would you believe it?”

“We used to get walked around the park together,” Tommy said. “Jonesy missed the Korean bit because he’s got a trick knee. Otherwise we’d have been in that together, too.”

“He’s the meanest bastard ever walked the earth,” Jonesy said playfully. “I don’t know why I like him.”

“Yok-yok,” Tommy said. “We’ve got mutual wills, Steve, did you know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Had them drawn up when I got out of the service. Birnbaum’s son made them out for us. Birnbaum and his wife witnessed them. Remember, Jonesy?”

“Sure. But you’d better have yours changed now. You’re gonna be a married man in a few hours.”

“That’s right,” Tommy said.

“What do you mean, mutual wills?” Carella asked.

“Our wills. They’re identical. Jonesy gets everything I own if I die, and I get everything he owns if he dies.”

Jonesy shrugged. “You’ll have to change that now,” he said.

“Sure, I will. When we get back from the honeymoon. But I never regretted the wills, did you?”

“No,
sir.”

“Birnbaum thought we were both nuts, remember? Wanted to know why two such young fellows were making out wills. His wife—may she rest in peace—kept clucking her tongue all the while she signed. What ever happened to that lawyer son of his, anyway?”

“He’s out West now. Denver or someplace. He’s got a big practice out there.”

“Poor Birnbaum. All alone here in the city.” Tommy stood at attention, ready for inspection. “Pants on, tie tied, shoes shined. Am I okay now?”

“You’re beautiful,” Jonesy said.

“Then let’s go. Ooops, cigarettes.” He snatched a package from the dresser. “Have you got the ring?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Check again.”

Jonesy checked again. “It’s still there.”

“Okay, let’s go. What time is it?”

“Two-twenty,” Carella said.

“Good. We’ll be a little early, but that’s good. Let’s go.”

They went out of the house. Tommy locked the door behind him, and then turned left, walking toward the driveway lined with tall poplars that shielded it from the house next door. They walked toward the car with all the solemnity of a funeral party.

“Where’s the driver?” Tommy asked.

“I told him he could go get a cup of coffee,” Jonesy said. “He should be back by now.”

“Here he comes,” Kling said.

They watched the driver as he ambled up the street. He was a short man wearing the black uniform and peaked cap of a rental service. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“We’re ready,” Tommy said. “Where were you?”

“Up the street getting a cup of coffee.” The driver looked offended. “Your best man said it was all right.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go,” Tommy said.

They got into the limousine, and the driver began backing into the street.

“Wait a minute,” Tommy said. The driver turned. “What’s that?”

“What?”

“There. In the driveway. Where we just came from.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Have you got the ring, Jonesy?”

Jonesy felt in his pocket. “Yes, I’ve got it.”

“Oh. Okay. I thought I saw something glinting on the concrete. Okay, let’s go. Let’s go.”

The driver backed out of the driveway and turned into the street.

“Relax,” Jonesy said.

“Boy, I wish I could.”

The limousine moved slowly up the tree-lined street. The sun was shining in an eggshell blue sky. It was a beautiful day.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Tommy asked.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” the driver said.

He stopped at an intersection at the top of a long hill. Patiently, he waited for the light to change.

“You turn left at the bottom of the hill,” Tommy said. “The church is on the left.”

“I know.”

“Oh, hell,” Jonesy said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Cigarettes! I forgot cigarettes.”

“I’ve got some,” Tommy said.

“I’ll need my own.” He opened the door on his side. “I’ll get some at the candy store. Go ahead without me before you bust a gut. I’ll walk down the hill.” He slammed the door behind him and started for the sidewalk.

“Don’t get lost!” Tommy yelled after him frantically.

“I won’t. Don’t worry.” He vanished inside the candy store on the corner.

“The light’s green,” Tommy said. “Go ahead.”

The driver put the car into gear and started down the hill. It was a long steep hill with one street bisecting it. It ran at a sharp pitch to a second street at the far end, a dead end blocked by a stone wall that shielded a steep-angled cliff of jagged rock. The stone wall was painted with alternating yellow and black lines as a warning to approaching motorists. As a further precaution, a huge blinking
DEAD END
sign flashed in the exact center of the wall. Since the time that excavation for gravel had begun in the area behind the wall, leaving the rocky cliff and the steep drop, only one motorist had driven through the wall and over the cliff. He’d been killed instantly, and it was learned later that he’d been drunk, but the accident had been enough to warrant the yellow-and-black paint job and the blinking light.

The limousine gained momentum as the car hurtled toward the end of the hill and the painted stone wall.

“That’s a bad turn at the corner,” Tommy said. “Be careful.”

“Mister, I’ve been driving for twenty years,” the driver said. “I never missed a wedding yet, and I never yet had an accident.”

“Yeah, well there’s a steep cliff behind that wall. A guy was killed here once.”

“I know all about it. Don’t worry, you ain’t gonna get killed. When you been married for fifteen years, the way I have, you’ll maybe wish you
did
get into an accident on your wedding day.”

The car sped for the bottom of the hill and the turn. The
DEAD END
sign blinked monotonously. Clutching the wheel in two massive fists, the driver swung it sharply to the left.