in Korea?” Kling asked, interested.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
“Army?”
“Yeah.”
“I was in the Signal Corps,” Tommy said. “With the Tenth Army Corps at the Inchon landings.”
“I was in on the Seoul liberation,” Kling said. “With the Ninth Corps.”
“Under General Walker?”
“Yes.”
“Hell, we linked up with the First and Ninth around Seoul!” Tommy said. “Jesus, I’ll bet we were close enough to touch.”
“You were on the drive to the Yalu?”
“Sure.”
“How do you like that?” Kling said. “It’s a small world, all right.”
“And you’re a cop now, huh?”
“Yes. What are you doing?”
“I work in a bank,” Tommy said. “I’m training to be an executive.” He shrugged. “It’s not really what I want to be.”
“What do you want to be?”
“I’d like to be a baseball announcer. I used to be a pretty good catcher when I was a kid. I know the game inside out and backwards. Ask Jonesy when he gets back.” He turned to Carella. “You didn’t happen to see him downstairs, did you?”
“Who?” Carella said. “There. Your tie’s tied.”
“Jonesy. My best man. My best friend, too. He went downstairs about a half-hour ago, said he needed some air.”
“Was he in a monkey suit?”
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t see anybody dressed for a wedding. Did you, Bert?”
“No.”
“Well, he’ll be back,” Tommy said. “Jesus, I hope he has the ring. What time is it, Steve?”
“Two o’clock. You’ve still got an hour. Relax.”
“Well, I’m supposed to get there a little earlier, you know. I’ve got to go back to the rectory. I’m not supposed to see the bride until she comes down the aisle. Your mother is a lulu, Steve.”
“How so?”
“I’m not complaining. She’ll probably make an excellent mother-in-law. But I called a little while ago, and she wouldn’t even let me talk to Angela. That’s going a little far, don’t you think?”
“She was dressing,” Carella said.
“Yeah?” Tommy’s eyes glowed. “How does she look? Beautiful, I’ll bet.”
“Beautiful.”
“Yeah, I knew it. Was she nervous?”
“Very.”
“Me, too. You want some coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
“A little drink?”
“No. Do you want to hear about Sokolin?”
“Sokolin? Who’s—? Oh, sure. Sure.” Tommy pulled on his jacket. “There. I’m all set. How do I look? Did I shave close enough?”
“You shaved close enough.”
“I’ll probably need another one by the time we check in tonight. I’ve got a heavy beard. You blond guys are lucky, Bert. Do I look all right, Steve? Is the tie straight?”
“The tie’s straight.”
“Good. Then I’m ready to go. You think we ought to leave now? It’s past two, isn’t it?”
“I think you ought to do something before you leave,” Carella said.
“Yeah? What?”
“Put on your pants.”
Tommy looked down at his hairy legs. “Oh, God! Oh, Jesus! Boy, am I glad you’re here! How could a guy forget to do something he does every day of his life? Boy!” He shucked the jacket and took his black trousers from a hanger in the closet. “What about Sokolin?”
“He spent a year in jail because he got into an argument about his dead Korean buddy.”
“That doesn’t sound so good.”
“It sounds pretty lousy. I don’t imagine he’s got much love in his heart for you.”
A knock sounded at the front door. Tommy looked up and then slipped his suspenders over his shoulders. “Steve, would you get that, please? It’s probably Jonesy.”
Carella went to the front door and opened it. The boy standing there was about Tommy’s age, twenty-six or twenty-seven. He wore his brown hair short. His gray eyes were alight with excitement. He looked very handsome in his tuxedo and his white starched shirt-front. Seeing Carella’s similar uniform, he extended his hand and said, “Hi. Usher?”
“Nope. Relative,” Carella said. He took the hand. “Steve Carella. Brother of the bride.”
“Sam Jones. Best man. Call me Jonesy.”
“Okay.”
“How’s our groom?”
“Nervous.”
“Who isn’t? I had to get out for a walk or I’d lose my mind.” They went through the house into the bedroom. “You okay, Tommy?” Jonesy asked.
“I’m fine. I was ready to walk out of here without my pants, how do you like that?”
“Par for the course,” Jonesy said.
“You’ve got dirt on your knees,” Tommy said, looking down at his best man’s trousers.
“What?” Jonesy followed his glance. “Oh, hell, I knew it. I tripped on the front step going out. Damn it!” He began brushing vigorously at his trousers.
“Do you have the ring?”
“Yep.”
“Check.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Check anyway.”
Jonesy stopped brushing his pants and stuck his forefinger into his vest pocket. “It’s there. Ready for delivery. Jones to Giordano.”
“Jonesy used to pitch on our team,” Tommy said. “I caught. I already told you that, didn’t I?”
“Jones to Giordano,” Jonesy said again. “He was a damn good catcher.”
“You did