the long habit of unsatisfied greed.
“I’m a cop. Wilson’s the name.”
“Oh Christ almighty—why’d you let this damn bum in here, Eddie? Throw the fucker out, he’ll get weevils in the Goddamn bread.”
“He got a gold shield, man. I’m not gonna say no to a gold shield.”
“You can buy a Goddamn gold shield on Forty-second Street. Get the jerk out.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I was just leaving. Thanks, Eddie, from the NYPD.”
Wilson left to a snort of scornful laughter from the white guy, a disgusted stare from the black. Sleeping over in storerooms was pretty unorthodox behavior for a cop. What the hell, he didn’t give a damn.
It was still pretty damn lonely on the street. Lonely and snowy too. This was practically a blizzard, must be five or six inches by now. He started to walk back by Becky’s building, then stopped himself. It hit him like a haymaker —they had come when they did because they knew he would be there. They were
What the hell, the bitch was beautiful. Fair cop too—but so beautiful. Becky had creamy skin, Irish coloring. Wilson was partial to that kind of coloring. And she had those soft, yet piercing eyes. He thought of looking into those eyes. “Becky, I love you,” he would say, and she would open her mouth slightly, inviting the first long kiss…
But not now. Now it was cold and he was hungry. He trudged toward the Lexington Avenue subway to ride down to headquarters. His watch said six-thirty. The Merit Bar was open by now, and they served up a fair breakfast. Then he felt the M-11. You didn’t go into Police Headquarters with a loaded M-11, you just did not do that. He’d have to stop by his rooming house first and exchange it for his regulation piece.
The subway wasn’t much warmer than the street, but at least it was well-lighted and there were a few people around. Not many at this hour, but enough to keep the things away from him. They were after him and Becky because they had been seen—certainly they wouldn’t attack except when their targets were alone. But you can be alone enough for just a few seconds. That he had to remember.
He got off and returned to his rooming house, entering this time by the front door. At the top of the stairs he carefully removed the putty he had left in the fire escape lock and returned to his room. He dropped off the overcoat containing the M-11 and put on the one containing the .38. That was all. The way he kept his place locked, he wasn’t worried that a burglar would rip off the pistol, or anything else in his apartment for that matter.
He double-locked his door, tested it, and left the building as quickly and quietly as he had come. And as he did it he laughed at himself. There was no need to be so quiet, it was just that it was second nature to him now. Unless he was acting the part of an unconcerned civilian he was always wary, always stealthy. He walked the short distance from his place to headquarters the same way, like a thief or someone tracking a thief.
He went through the quiet, brightly lit corridors of Police Headquarters until he got to the little office occupied by him and Neff. When he opened the door, his eyes widened with surprise.
There sat Evans.
“Hiya, Doc. Do I owe you money?”
Evans wasn’t interested in bantering with Wilson. “We got another one,” he said simply.
“What’s the story?”
Evans looked at him. “Call Neff. Tell her to meet us at the scene.”
“Anything new?” Wilson asked as he dialed the phone.
“Plenty.”
“Why didn’t you call Neff yourself?”
“You’re the senior man on the case. I tried you first. When you didn’t answer I came over. I figured you were on your way in.”
“Emergency, Doctor. You could have called Neff when you didn’t find me.”
“I have no emergencies. My line of business only concerns emergencies after they’re over.”
Somewhere out there the phone was ringing. Dick was subvocalizing a few choice curses each time the bell burst the silence. Ring and curse, ring and curse. “It could be for you,” Becky said.
“Nah. I’m burned, remember. It ain’t for me.”
“Then it’s for me.”
“So answer the fucker. One of us has gotta do it.”
She picked up the receiver. Wilson didn’t waste hellos. “Oh, Christ. OK, see you there.” She hung up. “Gotta go. Homicide in the park.”
“Since when are you assigned uptown?”
“Evans called us in. He says it looks like our friends got hungry again.”
“The big bad wolves.” He raised himself up on his elbow. “What about our picture-taking expedition, will it be on?”
“I hope. I’ll call you.”
“OK, honey.”
She was dressing as quickly as possible, but the gentleness in his voice made her stop. They looked at one
