Carella immediately thought He's calling off the wed-ding
He waited.
'About the wedding
Breathlessly, he waited.
'I don't know how to say this.'
Just say it, Carella thought. Just tell me you've made a terrible mistake, you've now met a lovely Italian girl drawing water from the well in the town square, and you'd like to call off the entire thing. Just say it, Luigi!
'I don't wish to offend you.'
No, no, Carella almost said aloud. No offense, Luigi, none at all. I quite understand. We all make mistakes.
'I want to pay for the cost of the wedding,' Fontero blurted.
'What?' Carella said.
'I know this is not customary
'What?' he said again.
'I know the groom is not supposed to make such an offer. But Luisa is a widow . . . your mother is a widow . . . and we are neither of us youngsters, there is no father of the bride here, there is only a loving, devoted son who has taken it upon himself. . .'
He's rehearsed this, Carella thought.
'. . . to shoulder the burden of a double wedding, his mother's and his sister's. And, Steve, I cannot allow this to happen. You are a civil servant. . .'
Oh, please, Carella thought.
'. . . and I cannot allow you to assume the tremendous expense of a double wedding. If you will permit me
'No, I can't do that,' Carella said.
'I've offended you.'
'Not at all. But I'm perfectly comfortable paying for both weddings. In fact it's been fun talking to caterers and musicians and . . .'
'I can hear it in your voice.'
'No, Luigi, truly. It's very kind of you to make such an offer, but you're right, this isn't something the groom should have to do, pay for his own wedding, no, Luigi. No. Truly. When do you plan to come over?'
'Are you certain about this, Steve? I'm ready to wire to my bank there ...'
'No, no. Not another word about it. How's the weather there in Milan?'
'Lovely actually. But I long to be there. I miss your mother.' He hesitated. 'I love her dearly,' he said.
I'm sure she loves you, too,' Carella said. 'So when do you think you'll be here?'
'I fly in on the eighth. Four days before the wedding.' 'Good, that's good,' Carella said. There was a long silence on the line. 'Well, I'd better get back to work here,' Carella said. 'Are you sure I haven't offend . . . ?' 'Positive, positive. See you next week sometime. Have a good flight.'
'Thank you, Steve.'
Carella broke the connection.
HE WONDERED NOW if actually he had been offended.
Here at the ragtag end of the day's shift in this grimy squadroom he had called home for such a long time now, he wondered if the offer from the rich furniture-maker in Milan had offended him.
As a working detective, Carella currently earned $62,857
a year. By his most recent calculation, the double wedding was going to cost almost half that. Without doubt, Mr. Luigi Fontero could more easily afford to pay for the coming festivities than could Detective/Second Grade Stephen Louis Carella.
But there was this matter of pride.
When he was still in college, one of his professors — and he truly could no longer remember which class this had been — called him in to discuss his term paper and his final grade. The professor told him it was a very good paper, and he was grading it an A, and then he said he was giving Carella a B-plus for the semester.
He must have seen the look on Carella's face.
'Or do you really need an A?' the professor asked.
Carella didn't know what that meant. Did he really need an A? Everyone really needs an A, he thought.
He looked the professor dead in the eye.
'No,' he said. 'I don't really need an A. B-plus will be fine.'
And he'd picked up his term paper and walked out.
A mere matter of pride.
So what the hell? he thought now.
My mother and my only sister are getting married. So thanks, Mr. Fontero, but no thanks. I'll find a way to pay for it myself. Even if it takes me to the poorhouse.
Which was just when the Deaf Man's final note of the day arrived.
And now I will unclasp a secret book, And to your quick-conceiving discontents I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, As full of peril and adventurous spirit As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
'Now we're getting there,' Meyer said.
'Where are we getting?' Parker wanted to know. 'It's just more damn Shakespeare.'
'But he'll be sending us a book!'
''A secret book,'' Kling corrected.
'Didn't Shakespeare write sonnets?' Genero asked. 'I hope it's a book of his sonnets. I like his poetry.'
'Personally, I find it somewhat shitty,' Parker said.
'We've got to put them all together,' Carella said. 'His notes. The four notes we received today.'
'Why?'
'Because they won't make sense otherwise. Same as
the anagrams.'
'You're right,' Willis said. 'We've got to look at them as a whole. Otherwise they're just nonsense.'
'You want my opinion,' Parker said, 'they're just nonsense, anyway. I mean, what the fuck — excuse me, Eileen — is this supposed to mean? 'As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud on the unsteadfast footing of a spear.' I mean, that isn't even EnglishV
'Let's take a look at the other ones,' Carella suggested, and removed the previous three notes from the center drawer of his desk.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May And summer's lease hath all too short a date ...
'He's telling us he's planning something for the summer.'
'Or maybe even sooner.'
'Sometime closer to May . . .'
' 'The darling buds of May,' Eileen said.
' 'Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.'
'He's telling us the party's gonna get rough.'
'Let's see the second note.'
Shake off slumber, and beware: Awake, awake!
'Previews of coming attractions,' Meyer said. 'Nothing more, nothing less.'
'We can expect a full-screen ad for a furniture store next,' Parker said. 'I hate going to the movies nowadays.'
'Oh, me, too,' Eileen agreed.
'Wake up, he's telling us. 'Shake off slumber.''
'Let's see the third one.'
Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.
'Uses the name 'Adam' this time,' Willis said.
'Lets us know this is the same Adam Fen who sent us the anagrams.'
'Same Deaf Man who told us who he killed last Sunday.'
