Kling's eyes, too, were intent on the road ahead.
At ten minutes to nine, a man answering Emma's description of Denker came walking up the street from the direction of the subway kiosk two blocks away. He was hatless, his blond hair blowing in the wind. A long brown-and-green-striped wool muffler was draped around his neck and hanging loose down the front of his camel-hair coat. His hands were in his pockets. He paid no attention to the faded blue Dodge across the street. But Meyer wondered if he'd spotted them.
"Good-looking guy," he said.
"Yeah," O'Brien said.
"With Tilly dead, how's he justifying his existence?”
"Beats me," O'Brien said.
"I mean, who's he protecting her from now?”
"Himself?" O'Brien said. "I would like Dr. Josef Mazlova to take the stand, please," Lowell said.
This was the moment Carella had been dreading.
"Mom," he whispered, "I don't want you to hear this.”
"I want to hear it," she said.
"... truth and nothing but the truth, so help you, God?”
"I do.”
"Angela, take her outside.”
"I don't want to go outside.”
"Mom ...”
"Dr. Mazlova, can you tell me where you are currently employed?”
"I work for the Medical Examiner's Office here in this city.”
Heavy Middle-European accent of some sort, the word work coming out vork. Thin white hair combed across a balding pate. Thick-lensed eyeglasses. Wearing a brown suit and vest, a gold chain hanging on it.
Carella took his mother's hand.
"In what capacity?”
“Mom, please ...”
"I'll be all right.”
"... to the Deputy Chief Medical Examiner.”
"Do you have occasion to teach forensic medicine?”
"I am Associate Professor of Forensic Medicine at Ramsey University.”
"And do you also have occasion to lecture on the subject?”
"I have lectured on forensic medicine at the College of Physicians and Surgeons at Carlyle University, and I have lectured on Criminologic Medicine at the Police Academy here.”
"Have you often testified as an expert witness in homicide trials?”
"I have testified, I would guess, some twenty or thirty times.”
"And in which courts and which counties ...?was And now came the credentials again, flatly and dryly, all the courthouses and the counties, all the honors and awards. And now came Lowell again asking the court to accept Mazlova as an expert witness, and the judge doing so with his subsequent customary instruction to the jury.
"Now then, Dr. Mazlova," Lowell said, "does working as assistant to the Deputy Chief Medical Examiner sometimes entail performing autopsies on trauma victims?”
"Not very often. Only occasionally. In cases considered of unusual importance.”
"Dr. Mazlova, did you on the morning of July eighteenth last year ...”
"Mama, please, I wish you'd go outside.”
"... perform an autopsy on the body of Anthony John Carella?”
"I did.”
"Please, Mom.”
"Shhh!" someone sitting behind them said.
His mother covered his hand with her own. Patted it.
Nodded. Don't worry, the nod said. I'm all right. I'll be all right.
"Can you show us on this body chart what your findings were that day? If it would help you to consult your notes, you may do so.”
No photographs, Carella thought. Thank God, no photographs. Not yet, anyway.
"There were three entrance wounds," Mazlova said, looking at the top sheet on the clipboard in his lap, "bullet wounds, that is, all of them described by an area some thirty-three centimeters in diameter in the region between the lower end of the manubrium ...”
"Excuse me, Doctor, but for the laymen on the jury ...”
"That is the upper part of the breastbone or sternum ...”
"Thank you.”
"... between the manubrium and the ensiform cartilage," Mazlova said, indicating the area on the chart. "The defining lateral boundaries ...”
Carella held tight to his mother's hand.
Sitting on her right, Angela took the other hand. Together, hands clasped, all three sat listening as Dr. Mazlova told of having found two bullets in the victim's left lung ...
Carella squeezed his eyes shut.
... and another in the anterior abdominal wall.
The doctor's voice droned on.
... bone fragments from a perforated rib ...
blood in thoracic cavities ...
Our Father who art in heaven ...
... perforated pulmonary artery ... ... hallowed be Thy name.
... dark red in color ...
Thy kingdom come ...
... likely that the same bullet ...
Papa, he thought. Oh God, Papa.
"... as a result of asphyxia and profuse hemorrhage," the doctor concluded.
"Dr. Mazlova," Lowell said, "did you subsequently recover the bullets that had caused these wounds?”
"I did.”
"Is it usual to find bullets still inside the body in wounds of this type?”
"I would say the bullets do not pass through in sixty, perhaps sixty-five, percent of such cases.”
"What did you do with these bullets after you recovered them?”
"As per instructions from the Forty-fifth Precinct, I bagged them and sent them to the Ballistics Section for identification purposes.”
"From whom did these instructions come?”
"Detective-Lieutenant James Michael Nelson.”
"Were the bullets addressed to anyone in particular at Ballistics?”
"I addressed the Chain of Custody tag to Detective Peter Haggerty.”
"How did you send these bullets to Detective Haggerty?”
"By messenger. A police officer picked up the sealed package for delivery to him.”
"How was the package sealed?”
"With red plastic tape marked in white with the words Evidence-Medical Examiner's Office.”
"Is it your belief that Detective Haggerty received this package?”
"I'm certain he would have signed the Chain of Custody tag when he accepted the package. That is usual procedure. In any event, he telephoned to say he was in receipt of the bullets and wanted to know what the priority was.”
"Thank you, Doctor, I have no further questions," Lowell said.
Addison rose, stepped up to the witness chair, and immediately asked, "What did you tell him?" Mazlova cocked his head to one side, puzzled.
"About the priority," Addison said. "What did you say the priority was?”
"I told him exactly what Lieutenant Nelson had told me.”
"And what was that?”
"That a police detective's father was the victim.”
A police detective's father, Carella thought.
My father.
"No further questions," Addison said, smiling.
"I have no other witnesses, Your Honor,”
Lowell said. "The prosecution rests its case.”
Di Pasco looked up at the wall clock.
"It's been a long and difficult week for all of us," he said. "If the defense has no objections, I'd like to recess until Monday morning. Will you be ready to call your first witness at that time, Mr. Addison?”
"I will, Your Honor. And on behalf of the jury, I thank you for the respite.”
"Yes, well," Di Pasco said dryly, "this court is adjourned till Monday morning at nine," and rapped his gavel once, sharply.
"All rise!" the clerk of the court shouted, and Di Pasco came up off his chair like a bat spreading its wings, and glided out of the courtroom, his black robes trailing.
At five minutes past ten that morning, Martin Bowles came out of his office building at 3301 Steinway, and immediately hailed a taxi. Hawes and Kling-who had parked the unmarked sedan in an underground garage four blocks away-were waiting outside 3303.
The moment they spotted Bowles, they flagged another cab and told the driver to follow the taxi up ahead. This was the first time the driver had ever had cops in his automobile. He looked bored.