nothing. This kind of story is a dime a dozen. People
kill other people around New York twenty-four hours a day. Unless there's a good strong sex interest, or
it's maybe one of those mass killings things like the guy who put the bomb in
the airplane, a murder in New York is filler stuff. And who needs filler stuff in the spring, when the
ball teams are just getting started?"
"You've got influence on the paper,
Dan," said Levine. "Couldn't you at least get him picked up by the
wire services?"
"Not a chance in a million. What's he
done that a few hundred other clucks in New York don't do every year? Sorry, Abe, I'd like
to do you the favor, but it's no go."
Levine sighed. "Okay, Dan," he said. "If you say so."
"Sorry," said Ricco. He grinned at
Perkins. "Sorry, kid," he said. "You should of knifed a chorus girl or something."
Ricco left and Levine glanced at Crawley , who was industriously yanking on his
ear-lobe and looking bewildered. Levine sat down facing Perkins and said,
"Well?"
"Let me alone a minute," snarled
Perkins. "I'm trying to think."
"I was right, wasn't I?" asked
Levine. "You wanted to go out in a blaze of glory."
"All right, all right. Al took his way, I took mine. Whafs the difference ?* *
"No difference," said Levine. He got
wearily to his feet, and headed for the door. "I'll have you sent back to
your cell now."
"Listen," said Perkins suddenly.
"You know I didn't kill him, don't you? You know he committed suicide,
don't you?"
Levine opened the door and motioned to the two
uniformed cops waiting in the hall.
"Wait," said Perkins desperately.
"I know, I know," said Levine.
"Gruber really killed himself, and I suppose you burned the note he
left."
"You know damn well I did."
"That's too bad, boy."
Perkins didn't want to leave. Levine watched
deadpan as the boy was led away, and then he allowed himself to relax, let the
tension drain out of him. He sagged into a chair and studied the veins on the
backs of his hands.
Crawley said, into the silence, "What was all that about, Abe?"
"Just what you
heard."
"Gruber committed suicide?"
"They both did."
"Well —what are we going to do now?"
"Nothing. We
investigated; we got a confession; we made an arrest. Now we're done."
"But — "
"But hell!" Levine glared at his partner. "That litde fool is gonna go to trial, Jack,
and he's gonna be convicted and go to the chair. He chose it himself. It was his
choice. I'm not railroading him; he chose his own end. And he's going to get
what he wanted."
"But listen, Abe "
"I won't listen!"
"Let me —let me get a word in."
Levine was on his feet suddenly, and now it
all came boiling out, the indignation and the rage and the frustration.
"Damn it, you don't know yet! You've got another six, seven years yet. You
don't know what it feels like to lie awake in bed at night and listen to your
heart skip a beat every once in a while, and wonder when it's going to skip two
beats in a row and you're dead. You don't know what it feels like to know your
body's starting to die, it's starting to get old and die and it's all downhill
from now on."
"What's that got to do with — "
"I'll tell you what! They had the choice!
kill other people around New York twenty-four hours a day. Unless there's a good strong sex interest, or
it's maybe one of those mass killings things like the guy who put the bomb in
the airplane, a murder in New York is filler stuff. And who needs filler stuff in the spring, when the
ball teams are just getting started?"
"You've got influence on the paper,
Dan," said Levine. "Couldn't you at least get him picked up by the
wire services?"
"Not a chance in a million. What's he
done that a few hundred other clucks in New York don't do every year? Sorry, Abe, I'd like
to do you the favor, but it's no go."
Levine sighed. "Okay, Dan," he said. "If you say so."
"Sorry," said Ricco. He grinned at
Perkins. "Sorry, kid," he said. "You should of knifed a chorus girl or something."
Ricco left and Levine glanced at Crawley , who was industriously yanking on his
ear-lobe and looking bewildered. Levine sat down facing Perkins and said,
"Well?"
"Let me alone a minute," snarled
Perkins. "I'm trying to think."
"I was right, wasn't I?" asked
Levine. "You wanted to go out in a blaze of glory."
"All right, all right. Al took his way, I took mine. Whafs the difference ?* *
"No difference," said Levine. He got
wearily to his feet, and headed for the door. "I'll have you sent back to
your cell now."
"Listen," said Perkins suddenly.
"You know I didn't kill him, don't you? You know he committed suicide,
don't you?"
Levine opened the door and motioned to the two
uniformed cops waiting in the hall.
"Wait," said Perkins desperately.
"I know, I know," said Levine.
"Gruber really killed himself, and I suppose you burned the note he
left."
"You know damn well I did."
"That's too bad, boy."
Perkins didn't want to leave. Levine watched
deadpan as the boy was led away, and then he allowed himself to relax, let the
tension drain out of him. He sagged into a chair and studied the veins on the
backs of his hands.
Crawley said, into the silence, "What was all that about, Abe?"
"Just what you
heard."
"Gruber committed suicide?"
"They both did."
"Well —what are we going to do now?"
"Nothing. We
investigated; we got a confession; we made an arrest. Now we're done."
"But — "
"But hell!" Levine glared at his partner. "That litde fool is gonna go to trial, Jack,
and he's gonna be convicted and go to the chair. He chose it himself. It was his
choice. I'm not railroading him; he chose his own end. And he's going to get
what he wanted."
"But listen, Abe "
"I won't listen!"
"Let me —let me get a word in."
Levine was on his feet suddenly, and now it
all came boiling out, the indignation and the rage and the frustration.
"Damn it, you don't know yet! You've got another six, seven years yet. You
don't know what it feels like to lie awake in bed at night and listen to your
heart skip a beat every once in a while, and wonder when it's going to skip two
beats in a row and you're dead. You don't know what it feels like to know your
body's starting to die, it's starting to get old and die and it's all downhill
from now on."
"What's that got to do with — "
"I'll tell you what! They had the choice!
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