that currently describes the Upper East Side demeanor.
Toy thought he had seen Harley Wynn watching him from the corner of East End Avenue.
First Toy squinted down the street into the sun. Then he started to jog, his handbag making him look slightly feminine in spite of his bulk.
Wynn?whoever it was?turned to light a cigarette out of the wind. Very Alfred Hitchcock. Then he disappeared into the chimney-red brownstone on the corner.
Toy ran up and stopped on the sidewalk in front of the house. He started to call out. ?Wynn,? he shouted huskily. Up to the rooftops.
?Wynn! Yo! Hey Wynn. Hey you fucking asshole!? he shouted. ?Hey, you!?
There were lots of blue and red flowerpots in the windows on the top floor. No lights on the second floor. No Wynn.
A little old woman in a whorehouse-red kimono came out on her terrace to look at him. Big dogs inside the house started barking. Doormen were peering down the street like the town gossips they were.
Ben Toy finally hailed a yellow cab dawdling on the side street. He took it over to the West Side. He popped a Stelazine tablet en route, and consequently forgot to tell Berryman about the man who looked like Harley John Wynn.
I bent over closer to Ben Toy. Either the mattress or his pajamas smelled of urine. ?Harley Wynn,? I said.
His eyes popped open. They were blue. He?d been on the verge of falling asleep.
?Thorazine.? He licked dry, chapped lips. ?Makes you sleepy as hell.?
?Just a few more questions,? I said. ?A couple of important ones.?
Toy sighed. Then he nodded.
?Was Harley Wynn definitely a southerner?? I asked.
?Sure.? Toy curled up on the end of the bare mattress. He shivered. ?Just as much as you are ? Could I have a blanket?? He asked Asher in a sweet, boyish voice. It was a strange sound coming out of a big man with two days? stubble on his chin.
?Answer his questions,? the aide told him. ?You know you can have a blanket, Ben. So just cut the crap, all right??
?Can I have a blanket
Asher pointed at me. He lighted up his pipe and stared out the window into blackness.
Toy struggled upright and sat with his bare back against the plaster wall. He was starting to pout, I thought. I hoped the aide knew what he was doing.
?Do you know where Wynn came from?? I asked.
Toy?s answer was curt. ?Tennessee.?
?Are you sure??
?I
Tennessee didn?t I.?
I was starting to feel guilty about grilling him too much. ?OK, I?m sorry,? I said. ?I only have one more question, Ben.?
?Shoot,
?I?m not trying to condescend to you. I?m really not.?
Toy smiled as though we were only playing a little game anyway. A lot of Joe Buck Conneroo came through with the smile.
?You said that Wynn wasn?t hiring you himself ??
?No. He was a front man. Always said, ?They said? this; ?They said? that. He was a small fish. Just like me.?
?OK then, do you know who hired Berryman??
Ben Toy looked over at Asher, then at me. ?Can?t say.?
My palm came down hard on the floor. ?We?ve come a long ways tonight to start that shit now,? I said.
?I really don?t know,? Toy said then. ?I never knew who it was. Berryman knew.?
Toy closed his eyes for a full two or three minutes after that answer.
Asher and I sat in total, eerie silence, just watching him breathe. The young aide had a dazed, tired look on his face. I figured I was probably pop-eyed myself.
Toy licked his chapped lips again. He shivered as though he were dropping off to sleep.
Rock and roll erupted in a nearby room and his eyes popped open again. He seemed annoyed that we were still in his room. Annoyed and slightly wild-eyed.
?Can I go to sleep now?? The soft, southern voice again. ?Would you turn on the dimmer, please??
?I?ll talk tomorrow if you want.? He turned to me.
