“Yes. Yes, I think so. Yes, I saw Tommy put the bottles in one of the suitcases.”
“Oh, Jesus!” Carella said.
“Steve! I don’t like you to swear.”
“Where’d they go, Mama?”
“Go? How should I know? This is their honeymoon. Did you tell me where you went on your honeymoon?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Carella said again. “What did she tell me, what did she say? She talked about the hotel! Damnit, what did she say? Did she mention the name?”
“What’s the matter with you?” Louisa asked her son. “You act like a crazy man!”
“Bert!” Carella shouted, and Kling ran to where he was standing. “Bert, did you hear anybody mention the name of the hotel the kids were going to?”
“No? Why? Have they left with the wine?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Kling said.
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know.”
“A big hotel, she said. I’m sure she said that. Hold it, hold it. One of the biggest hotels in the world, she said. Right in this city. She said that.” He clutched Kling’s shoulders desperately. “Which is one of the biggest hotels in the world, Bert?”
“I don’t know,” Kling said helplessly.
“Do you think someone might have seen them drive away?” He turned to his mother. “Mama, did they take a car?”
“No, a taxi, Steve. What is the matter? Why are you—?”
“Che cosa?” Uncle Garibaldi from Scranton asked again.
“Sta zitto!” Louisa said more firmly.
“Did you hear Tommy tell the taxi driver where they were going?”
“No. My God, they only left a few minutes ago. If I knew it was important, I’d have asked them to...”
But Carella had left his mother and was running toward the front of the house and the sidewalk. He stopped at the gate and looked in both directions. Kling pulled up to a puffing halt beside him.
“See anything?”
“No.”
“There’s somebody.”
Carella looked to where Jody Lewis, the photographer, was packing his equipment into the trunk of his car. “Lewis,” he said. “Maybe he saw them. Come on.”
They walked to the car. Lewis slammed the trunk shut and then came around the side of the car quickly. “Nice wedding,” he said, and he got into the car and started the engine.
“Just a second,” Carella said. “Did you see my sister and her husband leave here?”
“The happy couple?” Lewis said. “Yes, indeed. Excuse me, but I’m in a hurry.” He released the hand brake.
“Did you happen to overhear the address they gave the cab driver?”
“No, I did not,” Lewis said. “I am not in the habit of eavesdropping. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to finish my work and get to bed. Good night. It was a wonderful wedding.”
“Finish your...?” Carella started, and he turned to Kling, and the same excited look crossed both their faces in the same instant. “You going to take another picture of them?”
“Yes, I’m—”
“At the hotel? Putting their shoes out?”
“Yes,” Lewis said, “so you can see I’m in a hurry. If you’ll—”
“You’ve got company, mister,” Carella said, and he threw open the car door. Kling piled into the sedan. Carella was following him when he heard his mother’s voice on the path behind him.
“Steve! Steve!”
He hesitated, one foot inside the car, the other on the pavement.
“What is it, Mama?”
“Teddy! It’s Teddy! It’s her time!”
“What?”
“Her time! The baby, Steve!”
“But the baby isn’t due until next we—”
“It’s her time!” Louisa Carella said firmly. “Get her to the hospital!”
Carella slammed the car door shut. He thrust his head through the open window and shouted, “Stop the kids, Bert! My wife’s gonna have a baby!” and he ran like hell up the path to the house.
“What hotel is it?” Kling asked.
“The Neptune.”
“Can’t you drive any faster?”
“I’m driving as fast as I can. I don’t want to get a ticket.”
“I’m a detective,” Kling said. “You can drive as fast as you want. Now step on it!”
“Yes, sir,” Lewis answered, and he rammed his foot down on the accelerator.
“Can’t you drive any faster?” Carella said to the cab driver.
“I’m driving as fast as I can,” the cabbie answered.
“Damnit! My wife’s about to have a baby!”
“Well, mister, I’m—”
“I’m a cop,” Carella said. “Get this heap moving.”
“What are you worried about?” the cabbie said, pressing his foot to the accelerator. “Between a cop and a cabbie, we sure as hell should be able to deliver a baby.”
Chapter 17
A convention of Elks or Moose or Mice or Masons or something was cavorting in the lobby of the Neptune Hotel when Kling arrived with Jody Lewis. One of the Elks or Moose or Mice or whatever touched Kling with an electrically charged cane, and he leaped two feet in the air, and then rushed again toward the reception desk, thinking he would arrest that man as a public menace as soon as he finished this business with Tommy and Angela. God, it was past eight-thirty, Claire would have a fit when he finally got around to picking her up. Assuming the kids hadn’t tasted that wine yet — why was he calling them kids? Tommy was about his age — but assuming they hadn’t tasted the wine, assuming a stomach pump and a rush to the hospital wouldn’t be necessary, holy Moses what had happened to what had started out as a quiet Sunday?
“Mr. and Mrs. Giordano,” he said to the desk clerk.
“Yes, sir, they checked in a little while ago,” the clerk answered.
“What room are they in?”
“I’m sorry, sir, they left instructions not to be disturbed. They’re honeymooners, you see, and—”
“I’m from the police department,” Kling said, snapping open his wallet to his shield. “What room? Quick!”
“Is something...?”
“What room, damnit?”
“428. Is something...?”
Kling rushed to the elevator. Behind him, camera in hand, Jody Lewis dashed across the lobby.
“Four,” Kling said to the elevator boy. “Hurry!”
“What’s the rush?” the boy answered. Idling against the control panel, he gave Kling a bored sneer. Kling didn’t feel like arguing. Nor did he feel like earning the distinction of being the first Neptune guest to be treated with rudeness in the past ten years. He simply clutched one hand in the elevator boy’s tunic, yanked him away from the control panel, slammed him against the rear wall of the elevator just as Jody Lewis entered the car, and then pressed the button to close the doors and pressed another button marked with the numeral 4.
“Hey,” the elevator boy said, “you’re not allowed to—”
“Just shut the hell up,” Kling said, “or I’ll throw you down the shaft.”
The boy modulated into an injured silence. Sulking against the rear wall of the elevator, he silently cursed Kling as the car sped up the shaft. The doors slid open and Kling rushed into the hall with Lewis. Behind him, in a parting shot of defiance, the elevator boy yelled, “You louse!” and then hastily closed the doors.
“What room?” Lewis asked.
“428.”
“This way.”
“No, this way.”
“It says 420 to 428 here.”
“The arrow’s pointing this way.”
They rushed down the hall together.
“Here it is!” Lewis said.
Kling rapped on the door. “Open up!” he shouted.