PATRICIA: Don’t you think?
CARELLA: I really don’t know, Patricia.
PATRICIA: Oh, yes. It was in her diary. She said so herself. She said she felt like a wild animal.
CARELLA: Patricia, you came to us later and said your brother had killed her. Why did you do that?
PATRICIA: Because, you see, I didn’t think he was... you see, I thought she was the one who’d... who’d done all this, throwing herself at him, you know. And I thought if I killed her, well, if somebody killed her, why, then she’d be punished for what she’d done, and my brother wouldn’t have to bother with her any more, everything would be all right again. Because, you see, I knew he loved me more than he loved her, no matter what I heard him saying that day in his room, and no matter what she wrote in her diary. I mean, I’m his sister, he’s got to love his sister more than he does his cousin, isn’t that right? He’s just got to.
CARELLA: What made you cnoindente your mind?
PATRICIA: I cnoindented my mind, that’s right.
CARELLA: Yes, you accused him of murdering her. You said he’d killed her.
PATRICIA: Yes.
CARELLA: Why?
PATRICIA: Because he jumped on the coffin. He said he loved her.
Immediately following the interrogation, Patricia Lowery’s attorney asked that she be moved to the psychiatric ward of Buena Vista Hospital for observation pending arraignment. He and the assistant district attorney batted around the technicalities of this for several minutes, and it was finally agreed that justice could as easily be served in a locked cell at the hospital as in one of the holding cells in the basement of the 87th Precinct. The ambulance arrived some ten minutes after they phoned for it. Carella took the handcuffs from Patricia’s wrists, and one of the ambulance attendants helped her into a straitjacket, and then signed a release stating he had taken the prisoner into custody. The attendants led her out of the office then, and down the corridor to the elevator. Attorney Hudd asked if anyone would care for a drink, and the detectives and the assistant district attorney declined, and Hudd said he guessed it was time to close shop for the night. He checked out the burglar-alarm system, activated it, and then stepped quickly into the corridor in the thirty seconds of delaytime allotted to him. On the sidewalk outside, he said good night to the other men and began walking toward the garage where he customarily parked his car.
“Nuttier’n a fruitcake, that girl,” the assistant DA said. “Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why Hudd agreed to let her talk. Anybody reading that transcript’ll know in a minute she’s crazy.”
Carella said nothing.
“Probably won’t even get to stand trial, she’s that far gone. All your work down the drain,” he said. He shook hands with both detectives then, and started off up the street.
“Think I’ll walk over to Augusta’s,” Kling said.
“Okay,” Carella said. “See you in the morning, huh?”
“Yeah,” Kling said.
Carella watched as he walked off. He turned then, and began walking in the opposite direction, toward the subway kiosk two blocks away. As he walked he kept thinking of the moment Patricia Lowery had thrown back her head and begun screaming.
It started raining just as he went down the steps into the subway.