The Mugger

19

On Monday morning, September 25, Steve Carella burst into the squadroom, raring to go.

“Where the hell is everybody?” he shouted. “Where’s my welcoming committee?”

“Well, well,” Havilland said, “look who’s back.”

“The hero returning from the Trojan War,” Meyer cracked.

“How was it, boy?” Temple asked.

“Wonderful,” Carella said. “It’s wonderful in the Poconos this time of year.”

“It’s wonderful anywhere,” Meyer said. “Haven’t you heard?”

“You’re a bunch of lewd so-and-sos,” Carella said. “I knew it all along, but this confirms it.”

“You’re one of us,” Meyer said. “We are your brothers.”

“Brother!” Carella said. “So what’ve you been doing for the past month? Sitting on your duffs and collecting salaries?”

“Oh,” Meyer said, “few things been going on.”

“Tell him about the cats,” Temple prompted.

“What cats?” Carella said.

“I’ll tell you later,” Meyer said patiently.

“We had a homicide,” Havilland said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Temple said. “We also got a new detective/third grade.”

“Yeah?” Carella said. “A transfer?”

“Nope. A promotion. Up from the ranks.”

“Who?”

“Bert Kling. You know him?”

“Sure I do. Good for Bert. What’d he do? Rescue the commissioner’s wife?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Meyer said. “Just sat on his duff and collected his salary.”

“So how’s married life?” Havilland asked.

“Wonderful.”

“These cats George was talking about…” Meyer said.

“Yeah?”

“One hell of a thing, believe me. One of the roughest cases the 33rd has ever had.”

“No kidding?” Carella said. He walked over to Havilland’s desk and helped himself to the coffee container there. The room seemed very warm and very friendly, and he suddenly did not regret being back on the job.

“Damnedest thing,” Meyer said patiently. “They had this guy, you see, who was going around kidnapping cats.”

Carella sipped at his coffee. The sunlight streamed through the meshed windows. Outside, the city was coming to life.

Another workday was beginning.