Saint Patrick?s Day.”
Dutch took out a tenspot and motioned one of the patrolmen over.
“Take Socks here over to the lunch counter, buy him a decent meal, and stay with him until he eats
it,” Dutch said.
“Me?” the cop said in disbelief.
“Who d?ya think I?m talkin? to, God?” Dutch growled. “Just do it.”
“Right.”
He started to lead Guttman away.
“Cap?n?”
“What is it now?”
“Can I get a pack o? butts, too?”
“Get him a pack of butts, too,” Dutch said to the policeman.
“Yes, sir.”
“God bless ya,” Socks said, and stuck out his hand. Dutch recoiled in horror. “Take that thing away
from me,” he said to Socks, arid to the cop: “Make him wash his damn hands before he eats; he?s
liable to poison himself.”
Salvatore and Callahan returned to the fold with half a dozen brass buttons in tow.
“Just did the park. Nothin?,” Callahan said, in his Western Union parlance.
“Had to be the car,” said Salvatore.
The Stick was standing across the street, near the entrance to the park, looking back at the marquee.
He waved us over and pointed at the front of the theatre. Light bulbs had been blown out across the
front of it. Wires hung down, spitting at each other. Several of the letters were blown out.
What was left of the sign spelled SO—LONG——----
49
WHOS NEXT?
The shootout at South Longbeach had attracted most of the SOB?s and others were on the way. Only
Kite Lange and Cowboy Lewis failed to show up for the festivities. While the hooligans were
gathering, I grabbed a minute with Stick.
“Anything new on Nance and Chevos?” I asked.
“Nothing on Nance yet,” he said apologetically. “No, nothing new but Kite Lange is still staked out at
the marina where Chevos lives.”
„1 wonder how come Stizano didn?t make the wake?”
“He did. He and his entourage left early, I guess to catch the flicks.”
