“Well, we have guests just now...”
“This won’t take long.”
“Certainly,” Brolin said.
“Dr. Brolin, you are the physician who prescribed a month’s supply of Seconal capsules for Anne Newman, are you not?”
“I am.”
“Is that usual, Dr. Brolin? Such a large supply of barbiturate, I mean?”
“Mrs. Newman is an insomniac. As part of her treatment, I’ve been prescribing Seconal. There’s nothing unusual about the quantity of the drug, no.”
“She came to see you on July twenty-ninth, is that correct? The date on the prescription...”
“Was that a Tuesday?” Brolin asked.
“Yes, sir, I believe it was.”
“Then, yes, she was here. I see her every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
“Sir?” Carella said. “Every...?”
“I’m a psychiatrist,” Brolin said.
“Oh, I see,” Carella said, and nodded.
“Yes,” Brolin said.
“And you’re treating her for insomnia, is that it?”
“Insomnia is one of her symptoms, yes. I don’t feel I’m obliged to discuss the exact nature of her problem, Mr. Carella.”
“Of course not,” Carella said. “Dr. Brolin, did Mrs. Newman call you from California last Monday night?”
“Yes, she did.”
“For what reason?”
“She’d missed her Friday session because of the trip. She was suffering a severe attack of anxiety out there, and she wanted to talk to me.”
“How long did you talk, Dr. Brolin, would you remember?”
“Twenty minutes? A half hour? I really couldn’t say.”
“Did she call you at any time after that?”
“No, she did not.”
“That was the last time you spoke to her.”
“Yes. I’ll be seeing her this Tuesday, of course.”
“Every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, you said.”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Brolin, did you know Mr. Newman?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you know he was found dead last Friday morning, by Mrs. Newman when she returned from California?”
“Yes, I did.”
“How did you learn about his death, sir?”
“Mrs. Newman informed me.”
“Oh, I thought you hadn’t spoken to her since—”
“I’m sorry, I thought you meant from California. She called me yesterday. She was quite upset, we had a long talk on the phone.”
“I see. Well, Dr. Brolin, I know you have guests. I won’t keep you. Thanks for your time.”
“Good-bye then,” Brolin said, and hung up.
Across the room, Genero was standing with his hands on his hips, looking at the street below through the metal grille covering the open window.
“Come look at these two,” he said.
“I’m busy,” Carella said, and picked up the receiver again.
“Tits out to here,” Genero said.
Carella dialed Susan Newman’s home. She picked up the phone on the third ring. “Hello?” she said.
“Mrs. Newman? This is Detective Carella, how are you?” he asked.
“We just got back from the cemetery,” Mrs. Newman said. “All things considered, I suppose I’m all right.”
“Is this an inconvenient time for you?”
“There are people here,” she said. “But, please, what is it?”
“Mrs. Newman, from what I’ve been able to learn, your daughter-in-law called you from California last Thursday night, is that correct?”
“Yes, she did.”
“The call was placed at five p.m. in Los Angeles, that would’ve made it eight o’clock here. Can you tell me what you talked about?”
“Well... yes. But why do you want to know?”
“Just as a matter of course.”
“I’m not sure what that means, ‘a matter of course.’”
“There are certain avenues we’re obliged to investigate in any traumatic death.”
“Traumatic?”
“Yes, ma’am. Such as a suicide or a homicide.”
“I see. Then you do suspect my son’s death was a homicide.”
“I don’t suspect anything, Mrs. Newman. I’m simply assembling the facts so I can make an informed judgment.”
“And what does Anne’s call to me have to do with this informed judgment?”
“She’d spoken to her husband... your son... on Tuesday night. So far as I can tell, she didn’t speak to him again after that. But she called you on Thursday, just before she left for home. I’m curious as to why.”
“Do you suspect Anne had something to do with Jerry’s death?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not saying that.”
“Then I’m not sure what the purpose of your call is, Mr. Carella.”
Carella looked up at the wall clock. He had been on the phone with her for close to three minutes already, and she still hadn’t told him why her daughter-in-law had called on Thursday night. Normally, he would have had nothing but respect for such tight familial security. But considering the circumstances — Tell her about the heat in that apartment, he thought. Tell her there’s something mighty fishy about an apartment with the air conditioner turned off when the temperature outside is in the nineties. Tell her, yes, goddamn it, I’m not eliminating the possibility of homicide.
“Mrs. Newman?” he said.
“Yes?”
“You’re under no obligation to reveal the contents of the telephone conversation you had with your daughter-in-law. I was hoping, however—”
“Anne had nothing to do with my son’s death.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you don’t kill someone you’re planning to divorce, Mr. Carella.”
“Was she planning to divorce your son?”
“That’s what she called about Thursday night.”
“To discuss divorce?”
“To tell me she was going to ask for a divorce as soon as she got back East.”
“I see. Did your son know this?”
“No.”
“She hadn’t mentioned it to him, is that it?”
“She was going to tell him when she got home. She called to ask my advice.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her to go ahead and do it. My son became a worthless drunk the moment my husband killed himself. I’m a registered nurse, you know, he’d call me every time he’d had too much to drink, ask me to come over and take care of him. I sat through more nights with him, helping him to ward off his imaginary bats and mice... well, a mother is supposed to do that, I guess. But I was amazed that Anne was able to bear it as long as she did.”
“What was her mood when she called?”
“Troubled, concerned. She was in tears all the while we talked.”
“And when the conversation ended?”
“Determined. She planned to tell him the next morning. I believe I gave her the courage to go ahead with it. And then, of course, when she got home...”
“It was too late.”
“Yes, she found him dead.”
“Why were you so reluctant to tell me this, Mrs. Newman?”
“Simply because it’s none of your business, Mr. Carella.”
“Maybe it isn’t,” he said. “Thank you. I appreciate your candor.”
“He killed himself, that’s the long and the short of it,” Mrs. Newman said. She hesitated, and then added, “It runs in the family, you see,” and hung up.
5
The first call Carella made on Monday morning was to the telephone company’s Business Office. He identified himself as a detective working out of the Eight-Seven, and was beginning to tell the woman on the other end what he was looking for when she said, “What number are you calling from, sir?”