Fifteen minnits ago the cops pull up at Seedy’s pad an’ jump out, runnin’ upstairs. You dig? Then a ammalance come an’ they haul his ass away. It’s Seedy. They got ‘im covuhud but I know who it iz. There wuz a hole in the mid of hiz head, a small ‘un. Not too much blood. The cops come out an’ they ast a few questions an’ then they haul ass. That’s when I hear Paco an’ Jessie say then gon’ get Lee.’
‘How you know I wuz in here? Where’s Lee?’ I couldn’t ask the questions fast enough. Nissy was still pulling at the mash.
‘I jus’ took a chance. You know, Saturday night. Where you gon’ be? I donno where Lee iz at. Home?’
I was already preparing myself to deal with the Hawk. My gloves were on, and the scarf was around my neck.
‘Somebody hadda hep Lee. I donno who else would hep the cat, considerin’ heppin’ him agains’ who. Them spic mothuhs gon’ tear him a bran’ new one.’ Nissy was starting to ramble.
‘What makes Paco think that Lee did it?’ I asked.
‘I donno. No sign I could see. Look like a clean hit. Guess he put one an’ one togethuh an’ got Lee.’ Nissy fell out laughing at his joke.
I came out of my pocket with a bill. The little wino’s eye caught the picture of Hamilton and nodded.
‘You haven’t seen me in a week,’ I said. ‘You know nothin’ ‘bout Seedy an’ John an’ none a that shit. Right?’
‘You goin’, huh?’ he asked, pocketing the bill.
‘Ain’t rilly got no choice,’ I said.
‘Damn! Gon’ be mo’ killin’ t’night. Wish all this could happen in the summer when it ain’ too cold to go an’ watch. . . . Who you wan’ me to see if they git you?’ Nissy asked.
‘I don’t give a fuck,’ I snorted.
I went through the last set of doors on that note and out into the early-morning chill. My watch read one-thirty. The wind blew grains of snow up against my sunglasses, and the swirling flakes began to crust on my eyebrows and in my hair. At my feet, along the sidewalks, were stains where dogs had come along escorted by frozen masters and done their thing to help keep New York beautiful.
From the high-rise apartments that faced 17th between Ninth and Tenth avenues, there were still millions of lightshanging in the windows, fighting to aid the streetlights illuminate the corners and save travelers from muggers.
A sudden thought crossed my mind. Where in the hell could Lee be at this time of night? The answer was home, but if he was there, what would the P.R. boys do to get him out of the house? Even they weren’t so bad that they were going to bust in to the man’s crib and take the whole family off. That was Roaring Twenties action. I checked for cars and crossed Ninth Avenue. I was tired, hungry, and needed a drink. I should have taken that Jack Daniels away from Nissy. A wino couldn’t even begin to appreciate a mellow thing like that. It was almost like handing a grade-A-1 steak to a vegetarian and watching him throw the choice meat to the dog.
I headed downtown on Ninth Avenue. John lived at 306 West 15th Street. I passed the four-hundred block between Ninth and Tenth. John lived between Seventh and Eighth.
Cars and trucks struggled through the foot-high slush with fog beams that simply flashed everywhere except through the dirty mess that children wake and marvel at. No school tomorrow, and a million games to play. Building snowmen and castles and hitting the fat bully across the street with snowballs would be the order of the day. With a little luck, the pony-tail girl from the next building would be out, and she would either be impressed by his sled and marksmanship with snowballs, or be pushed in the drifts with the other creepy things.
I ran up the stairs to John’s apartment. The dim light in the hallway added to the shivers. Inside my fur-lined gloves my hands felt like icicles that couldn’t be flexed. I took off my sunglasses to wipe away the haze. That was when I saw the figure standing in the
‘How you know I wuz in here? Where’s Lee?’ I couldn’t ask the questions fast enough. Nissy was still pulling at the mash.
‘I jus’ took a chance. You know, Saturday night. Where you gon’ be? I donno where Lee iz at. Home?’
I was already preparing myself to deal with the Hawk. My gloves were on, and the scarf was around my neck.
‘Somebody hadda hep Lee. I donno who else would hep the cat, considerin’ heppin’ him agains’ who. Them spic mothuhs gon’ tear him a bran’ new one.’ Nissy was starting to ramble.
‘What makes Paco think that Lee did it?’ I asked.
‘I donno. No sign I could see. Look like a clean hit. Guess he put one an’ one togethuh an’ got Lee.’ Nissy fell out laughing at his joke.
I came out of my pocket with a bill. The little wino’s eye caught the picture of Hamilton and nodded.
‘You haven’t seen me in a week,’ I said. ‘You know nothin’ ‘bout Seedy an’ John an’ none a that shit. Right?’
‘You goin’, huh?’ he asked, pocketing the bill.
‘Ain’t rilly got no choice,’ I said.
‘Damn! Gon’ be mo’ killin’ t’night. Wish all this could happen in the summer when it ain’ too cold to go an’ watch. . . . Who you wan’ me to see if they git you?’ Nissy asked.
‘I don’t give a fuck,’ I snorted.
I went through the last set of doors on that note and out into the early-morning chill. My watch read one-thirty. The wind blew grains of snow up against my sunglasses, and the swirling flakes began to crust on my eyebrows and in my hair. At my feet, along the sidewalks, were stains where dogs had come along escorted by frozen masters and done their thing to help keep New York beautiful.
From the high-rise apartments that faced 17th between Ninth and Tenth avenues, there were still millions of lightshanging in the windows, fighting to aid the streetlights illuminate the corners and save travelers from muggers.
A sudden thought crossed my mind. Where in the hell could Lee be at this time of night? The answer was home, but if he was there, what would the P.R. boys do to get him out of the house? Even they weren’t so bad that they were going to bust in to the man’s crib and take the whole family off. That was Roaring Twenties action. I checked for cars and crossed Ninth Avenue. I was tired, hungry, and needed a drink. I should have taken that Jack Daniels away from Nissy. A wino couldn’t even begin to appreciate a mellow thing like that. It was almost like handing a grade-A-1 steak to a vegetarian and watching him throw the choice meat to the dog.
I headed downtown on Ninth Avenue. John lived at 306 West 15th Street. I passed the four-hundred block between Ninth and Tenth. John lived between Seventh and Eighth.
Cars and trucks struggled through the foot-high slush with fog beams that simply flashed everywhere except through the dirty mess that children wake and marvel at. No school tomorrow, and a million games to play. Building snowmen and castles and hitting the fat bully across the street with snowballs would be the order of the day. With a little luck, the pony-tail girl from the next building would be out, and she would either be impressed by his sled and marksmanship with snowballs, or be pushed in the drifts with the other creepy things.
I ran up the stairs to John’s apartment. The dim light in the hallway added to the shivers. Inside my fur-lined gloves my hands felt like icicles that couldn’t be flexed. I took off my sunglasses to wipe away the haze. That was when I saw the figure standing in the
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