by Ed McBain
"So use the kit," Carella said.
"And jeopardize my case against the city?" Carmody said. "No way."
Hawes walked to the windows.
"Really coming down out there," he said.
"Think the shift'll have trouble getting in?" Meyer said.
"Maybe. Three inches out there already, looks like."
Hawes turned to look at the clock.
Meyer looked at the clock, too.
All at once, everyone in the squad room was looking at the clock.
The detectives were thinking the heavy snow would delay the graveyard shift and cause them to get home later than they were hoping. The men in the detention cage were thinking the snow might somehow delay the process of criminal justice.
The kid sitting at Meyer's desk was thinking it was only half an hour before Christmas and his sister wasn't going to get the sheep she wanted. The squad room was almost as silent as when Carella had been alone in it.
And then Andy Parker arrived with his prisoners.
"Move it," he said and opened the gate in the railing.
Parker was wearing a leather jacket that made him look like a biker. Under the jacket, he was wearing a plaid-woolen shirt and a red muffler. The blue-woolen watch cap on his head was covered with snow. His blue-corduroy trousers were covered with snow. Even the three-day beard stubble on his face had snowflakes clinging to it. His prisoners looked equally white, their faces pale and frightened.
The young man was wearing a rumpled black suit, sprinkled with snow that was rapidly melting as he stood uncertainly in the opening to the squad room. Under the suit, he wore only a shirt open at the collar, no tie. Carella guessed he was twenty years old. The young woman with him-girl, more accurately-couldn't have been older than sixteen. She was wearing a lightweight spring coat open over what Carella's mother used to call a house dress, a printed-cotton thing with buttons at the throat. Her long black hair was dusted with snow. Her brown eyes were wide in her face. She stood shivering just inside the railing, looking more terrified than any human being Carella had ever seen.
She also looked enormously pregnant.
As Carella watched her, she suddenly clutched her belly and grimaced in pain. He realized all at once that she was already in labor.
"I said move it," Parker said, and it seemed to Carella that he actually would push the pregnant girl into the squad room. Instead, he shoved past the couple and went directly to the coatrack. "Sit down over there," he said, taking off his jacket and hat. "What the hell is that, a sheep?"
"That's my sister's Christmas present," the kid said, though Parker hadn't been addressing him.
"Lucky her," Parker said.
There was only one chair alongside his desk. The young man in the soggy black suit held it out for the girl, and she sat in it. He stood alongside her as Parker look a scat behind the desk and rolled a sheaf of D.D. forms into the typewriter.
"I hope you all got chains on your cars," he said to no one and then turned to the girl. "What's your name, sister?" he asked.
"Maria Garcia Lopez," the girl said and winced again in pain.
"She's in labor," Carella said and went quickly to the telephone.
"You're a doctor all of a sudden?" Parker said and turned to the girl again. "How old are you, Maria?" he asked.
"Sixteen."
"Where do you live, Maria?"
"Well, thass the pro'lem," the young man said.
"Who's talking to you?" Parker said.
"You were assin' Maria-"
"Listen, you understand English?" Parker said. "When I'm talkin' to this girl here, I don't need no help from-"
"You wann' to know where we live-"
"I want an address for this girl here, is what I-"
"You wann' the address where we s'pose' to be livin'?" the young man said.
"All right, what's your name, wise guy?" Parker said.
"Jose Lopez."
"The famous bullfighter?'' Parker said and turned to look at Carella, hoping for a laugh.
Carella was on the telephone. Into the receiver, he said. "I know I already called you, but now we've got a pregnant woman up here. Can you send that ambulance in a hurry?"
"I ain' no bullfighter," Jose said to Parker.
"What are you, then?"
"I wass cut sugar cane in Puerto Rico, but now I don' have no job. Thass why my wife an' me we come here this city, to fine a job. Before d' baby comes."
"So what were you doing in that abandoned building?" Parker said and turned to Carella again. "I found them in an abandoned building on South Sixth, huddled around this fire they built."
Carella had just hung up the phone. "Nothing's moving out there," he said. "They don't know when the ambulance'll be here."
"You know it's against the law to take up residence in a building owned by the city?" Parker said. "That's called squatting, Jose, you know what squatting is? You also know it's against the law to set fires inside buildings? That's called arson, Jose, you know what arson is?"
"We wass cold," Jose said.
"Ahhh, the poor kids were cold," Parker said.
"Ease off," Carella said softly. "It's Christmas Eve."
"So what? That's supposed to mean you can break the law, it's Christmas Eve?"
"The girl's in labor," Carella said. "She may have the baby any damn minute. Ease off."
Parker stared at him for a moment and then turned back to Jose. "OK," he said, "you came up here from Puerto Rico looking for a job-"
"Si, senor."
"Talk English. And don't interrupt me. You came up here lookin' for a job; you think jobs grow on trees here?"
''My cousin says he hass a job for me. D' factory where he works, he says there's a job there. He says come up."
"Oh, now there's a cousin," Parker said to Hawes, hoping for a more receptive audience than he'd found in Carella. "What's your cousin's name?" he asked Jose.
"Cirilo Lopez."
"Another bullfighter?" Parker said and winked at Hawes. Hawes did not wink back.
"Whyn't you leave him alone?" Carmody said from the cage.
Parker swiveled his chair around to face the cage. "Who said that?" he asked and looked at the black man. "You the one who said that?"
The black man did not answer.
"I'm the one said it," Carmody admitted.
"What are you in that cage for?"
"Holding frankincense and myrrh," Carmody said and laughed. Knowles laughed with him. The black man in the cage did not crack a smile.
"How about you?" Parker asked, looking directly at him.
"He's mine," Kling said. "That big valise there is full of hot goods."
"Nice little crowd we get here," Parker said and swiveled his chair back to the desk. "I'm still waitin' for an address from you two," he said. "A legal address."
"We wass s'pose' to stay with my cousin," Jose said. ''He says he hass a room for us."
"Where's that?" Parker asked.
"Eleven twenny-four Mason Avenue, apar'men' thirty-two."
"But there's no room for us," Maria said. "Cirilo, he's-" She caught her breath. Her face contorted in pain again.
Jose took her hand. She looked up at him. "D' lady lives ness door," he said to Parker, "she tells us Cirilo hass move away."
"When's the last time you heard from him?"
"Lass' month."
"So you don't think to check, huh? You come all the way up from Puerto Rico without checkin' to see your cousin's still here or not? Brilliant. You hear this, Bert?" he said to Kling. "Jet-set travelers we got here; they come to the city in their summer clothes in December, they end up in an abandoned building."
"They thought the cousin was still here, that's all," Kling said, watching the girl, whose hands were now spread wide on her belly.
"OK, what's the big emergency here?" someone said from the railing.
The man standing there was carrying a small black satchel. He was wearing a heavy black overcoat over white tr
ousers and tunic. The snow on the shoulders of the coat and dusted onto his bare head was as white as the tunic and pants. "Mercy General at your service," he said. "Sorry to be so late; it's been a busy night. Not to mention two feet of snow out there. Where's the patient?"
"You'd better take a look at the girl," Carella said. "She's in-"
"Right here," Carmody said from the cage.
"Me, too," Knowles said.
"Somebody want to let them out?" the intern said. "One at a time, please."
Hawes went to the cage and threw back the bolts on the door.
"Who's first?" the intern said.
Carella started to say, "The girl over there is in la-"
"Free at last," Carmody interrupted, coming out of the cage.
"Don't hold your breath," Hawes said and bolted the door again.
The intern was passing Parker's desk when Maria suddenly gasped.
"You OK, miss?" he said at once.
Maria clutched her belly.
"Miss?" he said.
Maria gasped again and sucked in a deep breath of air.
Meyer rolled his eyes. He and Miscolo had delivered a baby right here in the squad room not too long ago, and he was grateful for the intern's presence.
"This woman is in labor!" the intern said.
"Comes the dawn," Carella said, sighing.
"Iss it d' baby comin'?" Jose asked.
"Looks that way, mister," the intern said. "Somebody get a blanket or something. You got any blankets up here?"
Kling was already on his way out of the squad room.
"Just take it easy, miss," the intern said. "Everything's gonna be fine." He looked at Meyer and said, "This is my first baby."
Terrific, Meyer thought, but he said nothing.
"You need some hot water?" Hawes asked.
"That's for the movies," the intern said.
"Get some hot water," Carmody said.
"I don't need hot water," the intern said. "I just need someplace for her to lie down." He thought about this for a moment. "Maybe I do need hot water," he said.
Hawes ran out of the squad room, almost colliding with Kling, who was on his way back with a pair of blankets he'd found in the clerical office. Miscolo was right behind him.
"Another baby coming?" he asked Meyer. He seemed eager to deliver it.
"We got a professional here," Meyer said.
"You need any help," Miscolo said to the intern, "just ask, OK?"
"I won't need any help," the intern said, somewhat snottily, Miscolo thought. "Put those blankets down someplace. You OK, miss?" He suddenly looked very nervous.
Maria nodded and then gasped again and clutched her belly and stifled a scream. Kling was spreading one of the blankets on the floor to the left of the detention cage, near the hissing radiator. Knowles and the black man moved to the side of the cage nearest the radiator.
"Give her some privacy," Carella said softly. "Over there, Bert. Behind the filing cabinets."
Kling spread the blanket behind the cabinets.
"She's gonna have her baby right here," Knowles said.
The black man said nothing.
"I never experienced nothin' like this in my life," Knowles said, shaking his head.
The black man still said nothing.
"Maria?" Jose said.
Maria nodded and then screamed.
"Try to keep it down, willya?" Parker said. He looked as nervous as the intern did.
"Just come with me, miss," the intern said, easing Maria out of the chair, taking her elbow and guiding her to where Kling had spread the blanket behind the cabinets. "Easy, now," he said. "Everything's gonna be fine."
Hawes was back with a kettle of hot water. "Where do you want-" he started to say, just as Maria and the intern disappeared from view behind the bank of high cabinets.
It was three minutes to midnight, three minutes to Christmas Day.
From behind the filing cabinets, there came only the sounds of Maria's labored breathing and the intern's gentle assurance's that everything was going to be all right. The kid kept staring at the clock as it threw the minutes before Christmas into the room. Behind the filing cabinets, a sixteen-year-old girl and an inexperienced intern struggled to bring a life into the world.
There was a sudden sharp cry from behind the cabinets.
The hands of the clock stood straight up.
It was Christmas Day.
"Is it OK?" Parker asked. There was something like concern in his voice.
"Fine baby boy," the intern said, as if repeating a line he'd heard in a movie. "Where's that water? Get me some towels. You've got a fine, healthy boy, miss," he said to Maria and covered her with the second blanket.
Hawes carried the kettle of hot water to him.
Carella brought him paper towels from the rack over the sink.
"Just going to wash him off a little, miss," the intern said.
"You got a fine baby boy," Meyer said to Jose, smiling.
Jose nodded.
"What're you gonna name him?" Kling asked.
The black man, who'd been silent since he'd entered the squad room, suddenly said in a deep and sonorous voice, " 'Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel.' "
"Amen," Knowles said.
The detectives were gathered in a knot around the bank of filing cinets now, their backs to Carmody. Carmody could have made a run for it, but he didn't. Instead, he picked up first the shopping bag of pot he and Knowles had been busted for and then the valise containing the loot Kling had recovered when he'd collared the black man. He carried them to where Maria lay behind the cabinets, the baby on her breast. He knelt at her feet. He dipped his hand into the bag, grabbed a handful of pot and sprinkled it onto the blanket. He opened the valise. There were golden rings and silver plates in the valise, bracelets and necklaces, rubies and diamonds and sapphires that glittered in the pale, snow-reflected light that streamed through the corner windows.
"Gracias," Maria said softly. "Muchas giacias."
Carella, standing closest to the windows, looked up at the sky, where the snow still swirled furiously.
"That's not a bad name," Meyer said to Jose. "Emmanuel."
"I will name him Carlos," Jose said. "After my father."
Carella turned from the windows.
"What'd you expect to see out there?" Parker asked. "A star in the East?"
