days I was one of the boys.
It seemed he had kept that bargain, although Cod knows what miserable trade he had made, allowing
the business section to go to hell. That part of it didn?t make sense. This part did. The parks and
squares opened the town up, letting it breathe and flourish naturally, giving it a personality of its own.
Here and there, expensive-looking shops and galleries nudged up against the townhouses. You could
tell that zoning here was communal, that the rules were probably shaped by common consent.
“This is better,” I said. “But Front Street, Jesus!”
“They had to give the two-dollar bettors someplace to play,” Dutch said matter-of-factly.
We took a left and a right and were back to reality again. We were on the edge of Back O?Town, a
kind of buffer between Dunetown and the black section. You could feel poverty iii the air. The fancy
shops gave way to army-navy stores and cut-rate furniture outlets. it was the worn-out part of town. A
lot of used-car lots and flophouse hotels.
We drove in silence for a minute or two, then I asked, “How long you been here, Dutch?”
“Came down from Pittsburgh almost four years ago, right after they passed the referendum for the
track.”
“They built it when?”
“It opened for business year before last and the town went straight to hell. From white Palm Beach
suits to horse blanket jackets and plaid pants overnight. You gotta bust an eardrum to hear a southern
accent anymore.” His own was a kind of guttural Pennsylvania Dutch.
“You mean like yours?” I joked.
He chuckled. “Yeah, like mine.”
“Town on the make,” I said, half-aloud.
“You got that right.”
“Flow long you been a cop?”
“Forever,” he said, without even thinking.
He turned down a dark residential street, driving fast but without circus lights or siren.
“Hell of a note,” I said. “Chief and his bunch pampered Dunetown. it was like a love affair.”
“Well, pal, that?s a long time ago. it?s a one-night stand now.” He paused and added, “You know the
Findleys that well, huh?”
I thought about that for a minute before answering.
“Well, twenty years dims the edges,” I said.
“Ain?t that the truth.” Dutch lit a cigarette and added, “Sounds like you thought a lot of the old man.”
I nodded. “You could say that.”
