At seven a bleary-eyed, much-bespattered Bailey got off the elevator. He came up to me and stood staring out at the light.
'Been here all night?'
'Yeah.'
'Hope you got some sleep, at least.'
I shook my head.
'Must be something in the air. Well, let's go see what the morning's brought, shall we?'
I followed him into the unit. Nurses were changing shift, walking from bed to bed as they gave report. The ones going off looked used up. The ones coming on didn't look a hell of a lot better. Sunlight streamed in at the windows, glared on every surface. Workers pushed carts of linens and supplies through double doors. The phone buzzed and went on buzzing.
Behind the half-curtain he sat almost upright in bed. A plastic washbasin and soap dish were on the tray table before him. He was nude. A towel covered his lap.
'Cleanliness. Next to,' he said. 'Any moment now. I'm marshaling strength.'
His eyes went from Bailey to me and back. He smiled, and one hand lifted in a sketchy, exhausted wave.
'Good morning. Early start on the day, huh? I didn't expect you this soon.'
He looked closely at Bailey.
'You wanted to know my name.'
Bailey nodded.
'Lewis Griffin,' he said.
He held up his ragged copy of The Old Man.
'My book. One of them, anyway.'
6
So there I was in an old yellow T-shirt and the white boxers with hearts on them that Richard Garces gave me as a joke. Squinting out at these huddled shapes. Streetlight on the corner working for the firsttime in months.
'Norm?' Some others, too. My God, it must be serious. Raymond's forsaken his couch to come along.
'Lewis. Apologize for disturbing you this time of night Woke you up, too, from the look of it. You know Janet Prue? Lives two houses up, on my side.'
I didn't, but nodded. Late sixties, early seventies. That classic tweed-and-khaki look. Silky gray hair.
'Janet: Lewis. And this is Janet's husband, Gene. Lew Griffin.'
All shapes accounted for.
'You think we might come in for a minute, Lew? Won't keep you long.'
I stepped back out of the doorway. Your perfect host. Meanwhile something German and very loud was playing on the radio I'd neglected to turn off when I went to bed. I turned down the volume.
'Please have a seat.'
Still knew how to act when company came, after all this time.
Mr. and Mrs. Prue sat on the couch, Norm and his son in chairs close by.
'I guess I'm here as a kind of representative.'Norm glanced at the Prues. 'Speaking for a lot of your, our, neighbors.
'You may not know what's been going on, Lewis. Have to be busy with your teaching, and writing all those books-can't imagine how much time tliat takes. And I know you like to keep to yourself, of course, value your privacy. We respect that It's part of what makes the neighborhood work. Any community.
'So we apologize again for intruding on you.'
He looked over at his son.
'And for waking you up,' Raymond said.
'Can I get you folks anything?'
Four heads went no. Good. I didn't have anything to get them.
'Last few weeks there's been a team of robbers, purse snatchers, working the neighborhood. Kidsreally. Riding bikes and carrying guns. They held up one of the college girls down the street last week. Big house where all the students live? She waits tables in the Quarter two or three nights a week, took the streetcar home to Napoleon and was walking the rest of the way. Had the night's tips on her, just under a hundred dollars. Now, she thinks she remembers seeing them circle by once or twice before they pulled up at the curb, but at the time she didn't think anything of it. Who would? Then they pulled up by her, flashed the gun and told her to hand over her purse.
'There've been at least a couple more. Last night Janet and Gene were late for-some kind of alumni dinner, right?'
They nodded.
'Janet came out, got to the car and realized Gene wasn't behind her anymore, and went back in to check on him. He says he'll be right there, so she comes back out and stands by the car. Porch light's on. She doesn't remember seeing any bicycles going by, no. But all of a sudden, there they are. One of them's got a passenger on the back. He leans over-like Indians going from side to side on their ponies in old movies, she says afterwards-and snags her purse. Strap pulls tight and snaps, she reaches, but it's gone.
'I could use a glass of water, it's not too much trouble.'
I brought him one from the kitchen. Even found a clean glass.
'We're talking black here, Lewis. You understand that? Black kids on bikes with guns, hitting their own neighborhood. Ours. Never mind the robberies, that's bad enough. But sooner or later someone they pull up beside's going to talk back, or else someone looking out his window is going to go get his gun, next thing you know we've got a street full of police cars.'
'Okay, Norm, what do you want me to do?'
'I don't know. But everybody on the street knows you're a detective-'
'Used to be.'
'Used to be, right. So anyway, they thought maybe you'd have some idea how we could get on top of this. Thought maybe you could check around, ask some questions.'
'What kind of questions?'
'You'd know that better than us. Meanwhile, we're handing this out to everyone in a six-block radius.'
He passed me a sheet of standard typing paper, computer generated.
IMPORTANT MEMO! DISTRIBUTE IMMEDIATELY! There has been a rash of armed robberies in this part of Uptown New Orleans in the last several weeks. At least 4–5 have happened in our area alone. The perpetrators are Negro male juveniles, 12–16 years old in school type uniforms-white shirts and khaki pants.* They go about in groups of 2–4 and are armed with at least one blue steel revolver. The time frame of the robberies is after school until 8 P.M. They ' case ' the area first-walking or riding bikes up and down the block-then approach the intended victim with a question, i.e., What time is it? Victims have been walking home or sitting on t heir front porches. WE MUST BE VIGILANT! Do not allow these juveniles to engage you in conversation-this is a DELAY TACTIC to SET YOU UP AS THEIR NEXT VICTIM! Be even more careful getting in and out of cars and entering your home. If you see a suspicious group of juveniles as described above, call 911 immediately.* NOTE: Pants may be gray in color.
'We've already handed out over a hundred of them,' Norm said.
'Okay.'
We do like to feel we're useful. Still, I couldn't help but think of all the grocery-store ads rolled into cones and tucked into my fence out front, restaurant to-go menus and housepainting specials rubber-banded to my door handle, real estate fliers stuffed illegally in my mailbox. Guys got half a cent apiece to distribute these and lived off the three or four dollars a day the work netted them. A Active economy held aloft by its own bootstraps, one that few people noticed or gave thought to.
'I'll keep an eye out, Norm. That's really all anyone can do-even the police.'
'Good enough.' He stood. So did the others.
