“All right, but...?”
“I'll explain later. Don't forget, leave exactly at six-fifteen and...”
“Should we synchronize our watches, general?” Laurie asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Darn right. What time you got?”
“I haven't any time—I'm naked and wet.... Oh, it's two minutes after five on the big hall clock.”
“See you at the luncheonette, Laurie. Better dress, too.”
“Oh shut up,
Locking the office, I left the building and walked into Joe Brocco, a two-bit manager. He asked, “What's matter, Hal, the dick business lousy? Couple of the punchies working for you been around, asking me to dig them up a bout.”
“And you're the guy to do it—for a fast buck!” He ran a hand over his worn, flashy suit.
“What you want from me? I tell 'em they're washed up but they say they got to eat, washed up or not. I stalled them—can't pick up fights so easy these days, anyway. But I tell you true, I don't like to see a boy get a beating, a real bad beating. So try to give them more work, Hal, and...”
“Try! Try! Hell, I got my own worries, no time to feel sorry for a flock of has-been leather-pushers. Leave me alone.” I pushed by him, got into my car. As I drove away, he stood there watching me, his pimply face bewildered.
I sped up to Laurie's as fast as I could, and it was five-thirty when I parked about half a block from her house, examined the street. There were five other cars parked and I didn't see anybody in them.
I got out my pipe, puffed on some stale tobacco. At exactly six-fifteen Laurie left the house, looking very lovely in a soft print dress that the faint evening breeze pressed around her body.
As she started walking toward the luncheonette, one of the five cars—an old Buick—slowly drove after her. The guy at the wheel was a sharp-faced joker and he knew his business—must have been slumped down in the back seat all the time.
I waited. I had a big advantage over him, I knew where she was going. There was only one tail: nobody else followed Laurie. Turning on the ignition, I followed him to the luncheonette. Laurie was waiting outside the store and he'd parked across the street, had already disappeared into the back seat. I honked my horn, motioned for her to get in, headed toward the park at Spuyten Duyvil. “What's the idea?” Laurie asked. “Thought we were going to...?”
“Look in the windshield mirror—but do it easily. See that Buick behind us a ways? He's tailing you.”
She looked. “Can't make out the man at the wheel. What do we do now, lose him?”
“We're going to stop at Inwood Park, get out and walk up into any place where there's trees. I'll hide behind a tree, you keep on walking—stop a couple yards away from me and wait. When this clown sneaks up on you, I'll take care of him. Got any cigarettes?”
“Yes. But...?”
“Keep chain smoking cigarettes.”
“What's cigarettes got to do with...?”
“To make sure he can follow you. In this twilight your cigarette glow will act like a guide for him. Now when I drop off in the woods, don't stop, or look at me, keep walking. And don't walk too far—about twenty feet. Got it?”
“Yes. Seems like a lot of movie stuff to me.”
I didn't bother answering her. When we parked, we hurried up the walk that ran through the park, left that, and slowly started up a slight hill thick with bushes. Laurie was puffing away on a cigarette. As we passed a clump of bushes, I dived into them, turned, and crouched in as comfortable a position as I could get.
Laurie did it nicely. She stopped about fifteen feet above me, among a heavy growth of trees, the bright red tip of her cigarette plain against the darkness.
It was a hot, muggy night, and for about ten minutes all that happened was a flock of flies, or some kind of bugs, decided to have a light snack on the back of my neck. I couldn't smack them, the noise would be a give-away. I kept shaking my head like crazy... and then I heard it —somebody walking with great care, trying not to step on any twigs or dried stuff. The bushes around me weren't too high, but enough cover for a shrimp like myself.
The tail covered the open ground by the bushes quickly, stopped some three feet from me, staring up intently at Laurie's cigarette glow. All I could see of him in the dark was that he was one of these tall, thin guys, the kind that dress big but really are only skin and bones under the padding. He had one hand deep in his right pocket. I got to my feet slowly, holding the palms of my hands stiff. I held my arms out at my sides, like a ham actor making a speech, then reached up and clapped my hands over his ears as hard as I could.
15
SHE SCREAMED—a short, breathless scream—started to grab his head, then crumpled to the ground. I called out “Come on, Laurie, let's blow.”
Laurie came running down, asked, “What do we do now, search him?” The punk was rolling on the ground, holding his ears.
“Forget him. We're going to my place,” I said, taking her arm and making time down the hill, and enjoying the feel of the firm muscle in her arm, her side when my hand brushed against her dress. We walked over to the car and drove off.
“Where is your place?”
“I live on a boat, off 79th Street and the Hudson.”
“A boat? You sure are the strangest fellow I've ever met. I'm not sure I want to go out on a boat.”
