And All Through the House by Ed McBain Page A

not the big, bad streets outside. The two men Hawes had brought in were looking over the place as if deciding whether or not this was really where they wanted to spend Christmas Eve. The empty detention cage in the corner of the room did not look too terribly inviting to them. One of them kept glancing over his shoulder to see if Hawes was about to shove them again. Hawes looked as if he might throttle both of them at any moment.
        "Sit down!" he yelled and then went to the mirror over the sink and looked at his face. He tore a paper towel loose from the holder, wet it and dabbed at the open cut on his forehead. The cut kept bleeding.
        "I'd better phone for a meat wagon," Carella said.
        "No, I don't need one," Hawes said.
        " We need one," one of the two men said.
        He was bleeding from a cut on his left cheek. The man handcuffed to him was bleeding from a cut just below his jaw line. His shirt was stained with blood, too, where it was slashed open over his rib cage.
        Hawes turned suddenly from the sink. "What'd I do with that bag?" he said to Carella. "You see me come in here with a bag?"
        "No," Carella said. "What happened?"
        "I must've left it downstairs at the desk," Hawes said and went immediately to the phone. He picked up the receiver, dialed three numbers and then said, "Dave, this is Cotton. Did I leave a shopping bag down there at the desk?" He listened and then said, "Would you send one of the blues up with it, please? Thanks a lot." He put the receiver back on the cradle. "Trouble I went through to make this bust," he said, "I don't want to lose the goddamn evidence."
        "You ain't got no evidence," the man bleeding from the cheek said.
        "I thought I told you to shut up," Hawes said, going to him. "What's your name?"
        "I'm supposed to shut up, how can I give you my name?" the man said.
        "How would you like to give me your name through a mouthful of broken teeth?" Hawes said. Carella had never seen him this angry. The blood kept pouring down his cheek, as if in visible support of his anger. "What's your goddamn name?" he shouted.
        "I'm calling an ambulance," Carella said.
        "Good," the man bleeding from under his jaw line said.
        "Who wants this?" a uniformed cop at the railing said.
        "Bring it in here and put it on my desk," Hawes said. "What's your name?"
        "Henry," the cop at the railing said.
        "Not you," Hawes said.
        "Which desk is yours?" the cop asked.
        "Over there," Hawes said and gestured vaguely.
        "What happened up here?" the cop asked, carrying the shopping bag in and putting it on the desk he assumed Hawes had indicated. The shopping bag was from one of the city's larger department stores.
        A green wreath and a red bow were printed on it. Carella, already on the phone, glanced at the shopping bag as he dialed Mercy General.
        "Your name," Hawes said to the man bleeding from the cheek.
        "I don't tell you nothing till you read me my rights," the man said.
        "My name is Jimmy," the other man said.
        "Jimmy what?"
        "You dope, don't tell him nothin' till he reads you Miranda."
        "You shut up," Hawes said. "Jimmy what?"
        "Knowles. James Nelson Knowles."
        "Now you done it," the man bleeding from the cheek said.
        "It don't mean nothin' he's got my name," Knowles said.
        "You gonna be anonymous all night?" Hawes said to the other man.
        Into the phone, Carella said, "I'm telling you we've got three people bleeding up here."
        "I don't need an ambulance," Hawes said.
        "Well, make it as fast as you can, will you?" Carella said and hung up. "They're backed up till Easter, be a while before they can get here. Where's that first-aid kit?" he said and went to the filing cabinets. "Don't we have a first-aid kit up here?"
        "This cut gets infected," the