Эд Макбейн - ’Til Death

“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 all the work,” Tommy said, zipping up his fly. “There. Now for the jacket. Have I got my shoes on?” He looked down at his feet.

“He was like this before every game,” Jonesy said, grinning. “I know this guy since he was three years old, would you believe it?”

“We used to get walked around the park together,” Tommy said. “Jonesy missed the Korean bit because he’s got a trick knee. Otherwise we’d have been in that together, too.”

“He’s the meanest bastard ever walked the earth,” Jonesy said playfully. “I don’t know why I like him.”

“Yok-yok,” Tommy said. “We’ve got mutual wills, Steve, did you know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Had them drawn up when I got out of the service. Birnbaum’s son made them out for us. Birnbaum and his wife witnessed them. Remember, Jonesy?”

“Sure. But you’d better have yours changed now. You’re gonna be a married man in a few hours.”

“That’s right,” Tommy said.

“What do you mean, mutual wills?” Carella asked.

“Our wills. They’re identical. Jonesy gets everything I own if I die, and I get everything he owns if he dies.”

Jonesy shrugged. “You’ll have to change that now,” he said.

“Sure, I will. When we get back from the honeymoon. But I never regretted the wills, did you?”

“No, sir.”

“Birnbaum thought we were both nuts, remember? Wanted to know why two such young fellows were making out wills. His wife — may she rest in peace — kept clucking her tongue all the while she signed. What ever happened to that lawyer son of his, anyway?”

“He’s out West now. Denver or someplace. He’s got a big practice out there.”

“Poor Birnbaum. All alone here in the city.” Tommy stood at attention, ready for inspection. “Pants on, tie tied, shoes shined. Am I okay now?”

“You’re beautiful,” Jonesy said.

“Then let’s go. Ooops, cigarettes.” He snatched a package from the dresser. “Have you got the ring?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Check again.”

Jonesy checked again. “It’s still there.”

“Okay, let’s go. What time is it?”

“Two-twenty,” Carella said.

“Good. We’ll be a little early, but that’s good. Let’s go.”

They went out of the house. Tommy locked the door behind him, and then turned left, walking toward the driveway lined with tall poplars that shielded it from the house next door. They walked toward the car with all the solemnity of a funeral party.

“Where’s the driver?” Tommy asked.

“I told him he could go get a cup of coffee,” Jonesy said. “He should be back by now.”

“Here he comes,” Kling said.

They watched the driver as he ambled up the street. He was a short man wearing the black uniform and peaked cap of a rental service. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“We’re ready,” Tommy said. “Where were you?”

“Up the street getting a cup of coffee.” The driver looked offended. “Your best man said it was all right.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go,” Tommy said.

They got into the limousine, and the driver began backing into the street.

“Wait a minute,” Tommy said. The driver turned. “What’s that?”

“What?”

“There. In the driveway. Where we just came from.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Have you got the ring, Jonesy?”

Jonesy felt in his pocket. “Yes, I’ve got it.”

“Oh. Okay. I thought I saw something glinting on the concrete. Okay, let’s go. Let’s go.”

The driver backed out of the driveway and turned into the street.

“Relax,” Jonesy said.

“Boy, I wish I could.”

The limousine moved slowly up the tree-lined street. The sun was shining in an eggshell blue sky. It was a beautiful day.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Tommy asked.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” the driver said.

He stopped at an intersection at the top of a long hill. Patiently, he waited for the light to change.

“You turn left at the bottom of the hill,” Tommy said. “The church is on the left.”

“I know.”

“Oh, hell,” Jonesy said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Cigarettes! I forgot cigarettes.”

“I’ve got some,” Tommy said.

“I’ll need my own.” He opened the door on his side. “I’ll get some at the candy store. Go ahead without me before you bust a gut. I’ll walk down the hill.” He slammed the door behind him and started for the sidewalk.

“Don’t get lost!” Tommy yelled after him frantically.

“I won’t. Don’t worry.” He vanished inside the candy store on the corner.

“The light’s green,” Tommy said. “Go ahead.”

The driver put the car into gear and started down the hill. It was a long steep hill with one street bisecting it. It ran at a sharp pitch to a second street at the far end, a dead end blocked by a stone wall that shielded a steep-angled cliff of jagged rock. The stone wall was painted with alternating yellow and black lines as a warning to approaching motorists. As a further precaution, a huge blinking DEAD END sign flashed in the exact center of the wall. Since the time that excavation for gravel had begun in the area behind the wall, leaving the rocky cliff and the steep drop, only one motorist had driven through the wall and over the cliff. He’d been killed instantly, and it was learned later that he’d been drunk, but the accident had been enough to warrant the yellow-and-black paint job and the blinking light.

The limousine gained momentum as the car hurtled toward the end of the hill and the painted stone wall.

“That’s a bad turn at the corner,” Tommy said. “Be careful.”

“Mister, I’ve been driving for twenty years,” the driver said. “I never missed a wedding yet, and I never yet had an accident.”

“Yeah, well there’s a steep cliff behind that wall. A guy was killed here once.”

“I know all about it. Don’t worry, you ain’t gonna get killed. When you been married for fifteen years, the way I have, you’ll maybe wish you did get into an accident on your wedding day.”

The car sped for the bottom of the hill and the turn. The DEAD END sign blinked monotonously. Clutching the wheel in two massive fists, the driver swung it sharply to the left.

There was an enormous cracking sound that jolted the automobile.

The car did not turn to the left.

With something like awe in his voice, the driver said, “Jesus, it won’t steer!”

From outside the car, passers-by saw only a vehicle that was wildly out of control, the front wheels pointing in opposite directions as the limousine hurtled forward toward the sidewalk, the stone wall, and the cliff beyond.