anonymous man said, "I'm gonna sue the city. I die in a police station, there's gonna be hell to pay. You better believe it."
"What name should we put on the death certificate?" Hawes asked.
"Who the hell filed this in the missing-persons drawer?" Carella said.
"Tell him your name already, willya?" Knowles said.
"Thomas Carmody, OK?" the other man said. He said it to Knowles, as if he would not allow himself the indignity of discussing it with a cop.
Carella handed the kit to Hawes. "Put a bandage on that, willya?" he said. "You look like hell."
"How about the citizens ?" Carmody said. "You see that?" he said to Knowles. "They always take care of their own first."
"On your feet," Carella said.
"Here comes the rubber hose," Carmody said.
Hawes carried the first-aid kit to the mirror. Carella led Carmody and Knowles to the detention cage. He threw back both bolts on the door, took the cuffs off them and said, "Inside, boys."
Carmody and Knowles went into the cage. Carella double-bolted the door again. Both men looked around the cage as if deciding whether or not the accommodations suited their taste. There were bars on the cage and protective steel mesh. There was no place to sit inside the cage. The two men walked around it, checking out the graffiti scribbled on the walls. Carella went to where Hawes was dabbing at his cut with a swab of cotton.
"Better put some peroxide on that," he said. "What happened?"
"Where's that shopping bag?" Hawes asked.
"On the desk there. What happened?"
"I was checking out a ten-twenty on Culver and Twelfth, guy went in and stole a television set this guy had wrapped up in his closet, he was giving it to his wife for Christmas, you know? They were next door with their friends, having a drink, burglar must've got in through the fire-escape window; anyway, the TV's gone. So I take down all the information-fat chance of ever getting it back-and then I go downstairs, and I'm heading for the car when there's this yelling and screaming up the street, so I go see what's the matter, and these two jerks are arguing over the shopping bag there on the desk."
"It was all your fault," Carmody said to Knowles.
"You're the one started it," Knowles said.
"Anyway, it ain't our shopping bag," Carmody said.
"I figure it's just two guys had too much to drink," Hawes said, putting a patch over the cut, "so I go over to tell them to cool it, go home and sleep it off, this is Christmas Eve, right? All of a sudden, there's a knife on the scene. One of them's got a knife in his hand."
"Not me," Carmody said from the detention cage.
"Not me, either," Knowles said.
"I don't know who started cutting who first," Hawes said, "but I'm looking at a lot of blood. Then the other guy gets hold of the knife some way, and he starts swinging away with it, and next thing I know, I'm in the middle of it, and I 'm cut, too. What it turns out to be-"
"What knife?" Carmody said. "He's dreaming."
"Yeah, what knife?" Knowles said.
"The knife you threw down the sewer on the corner of Culver and Eleventh," Hawes said, "which the blues are out searching in the muck for right this minute. I need this on Christmas Eve," he said, studying the adhesive patch on his forehead. "I really need it."
Carella went to the detention cage, unbolted the door and handed the first-aid kit to Carmody. "Here," he said. "Use it."
"I'm waiting for the ambulance to come," Carmody said. "I want real medical treatment."
"Suit yourself," Carella said. "How about you?"
"If he wants to wait for the ambulance, then I want to wait for the ambulance, too," Knowles said.
Carella bolted the cage again and went back to where Hawes was wiping blood from his hair with a wet towel. "What were they arguing about?" he
"What name should we put on the death certificate?" Hawes asked.
"Who the hell filed this in the missing-persons drawer?" Carella said.
"Tell him your name already, willya?" Knowles said.
"Thomas Carmody, OK?" the other man said. He said it to Knowles, as if he would not allow himself the indignity of discussing it with a cop.
Carella handed the kit to Hawes. "Put a bandage on that, willya?" he said. "You look like hell."
"How about the citizens ?" Carmody said. "You see that?" he said to Knowles. "They always take care of their own first."
"On your feet," Carella said.
"Here comes the rubber hose," Carmody said.
Hawes carried the first-aid kit to the mirror. Carella led Carmody and Knowles to the detention cage. He threw back both bolts on the door, took the cuffs off them and said, "Inside, boys."
Carmody and Knowles went into the cage. Carella double-bolted the door again. Both men looked around the cage as if deciding whether or not the accommodations suited their taste. There were bars on the cage and protective steel mesh. There was no place to sit inside the cage. The two men walked around it, checking out the graffiti scribbled on the walls. Carella went to where Hawes was dabbing at his cut with a swab of cotton.
"Better put some peroxide on that," he said. "What happened?"
"Where's that shopping bag?" Hawes asked.
"On the desk there. What happened?"
"I was checking out a ten-twenty on Culver and Twelfth, guy went in and stole a television set this guy had wrapped up in his closet, he was giving it to his wife for Christmas, you know? They were next door with their friends, having a drink, burglar must've got in through the fire-escape window; anyway, the TV's gone. So I take down all the information-fat chance of ever getting it back-and then I go downstairs, and I'm heading for the car when there's this yelling and screaming up the street, so I go see what's the matter, and these two jerks are arguing over the shopping bag there on the desk."
"It was all your fault," Carmody said to Knowles.
"You're the one started it," Knowles said.
"Anyway, it ain't our shopping bag," Carmody said.
"I figure it's just two guys had too much to drink," Hawes said, putting a patch over the cut, "so I go over to tell them to cool it, go home and sleep it off, this is Christmas Eve, right? All of a sudden, there's a knife on the scene. One of them's got a knife in his hand."
"Not me," Carmody said from the detention cage.
"Not me, either," Knowles said.
"I don't know who started cutting who first," Hawes said, "but I'm looking at a lot of blood. Then the other guy gets hold of the knife some way, and he starts swinging away with it, and next thing I know, I'm in the middle of it, and I 'm cut, too. What it turns out to be-"
"What knife?" Carmody said. "He's dreaming."
"Yeah, what knife?" Knowles said.
"The knife you threw down the sewer on the corner of Culver and Eleventh," Hawes said, "which the blues are out searching in the muck for right this minute. I need this on Christmas Eve," he said, studying the adhesive patch on his forehead. "I really need it."
Carella went to the detention cage, unbolted the door and handed the first-aid kit to Carmody. "Here," he said. "Use it."
"I'm waiting for the ambulance to come," Carmody said. "I want real medical treatment."
"Suit yourself," Carella said. "How about you?"
"If he wants to wait for the ambulance, then I want to wait for the ambulance, too," Knowles said.
Carella bolted the cage again and went back to where Hawes was wiping blood from his hair with a wet towel. "What were they arguing about?" he
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