I don't think that's the way to go." "Then what _is the way to go?" Frankie said, sounding a bit irritated. "I mean, no offense meant, but you're the fuckin' guy _murdered somebody, not me." "I think I've got to find out who got killed."
"Who got killed is this guy Crandall." "No, it wasn't Crandall." "On television, they said he was the dead guy. And they said _you killed him. Which, by the way, your name ain't Donald Trump." "That's right, it isn't."
"I mean, nobody in this whole fuckin' _world could be named Donald _Trump. I mean, if you had to pick a phony name ..."
"It's Michael Barnes," Michael said.
"Which also sounds phony. I'm tryin'a help you here, and you keep layin' this bullshit on me. Is it that you don't trust me? I mean, I spent all my life in this fuckin' downtown community, tryin'a build a reputation for honesty and trust, so if there's one thing you can do, it's trust me." "I do trust you," Michael said.
"Good," Frankie said, and pulled a gun from
a holster under his jacket and stuck it in
155 Michael's face. "You know what this is?" he asked Michael. Michael knew what it was. It was a Colt .45 automatic. He had handled many guns exactly like it while he was in the army. "Yes," he said, "I know what it is."
"Good," Frankie said. "You know how to use it?" "Yes." "Good. 'Cause I want you to use it." Michael looked at him.
"There is a person I would like you to kill," Frankie said. Michael kept looking at him. "Because I understand you're very good at that," Frankie said. Everyone in this city is crazy, Michael thought. "You already killed this movie guy," Frankie said, "so it ..."
"No, I _didn't kill this movie ..."
"Hey," Frankie said, "_listen, okay?" and put the gun to his ear as if it were a finger. "This is _me, okay?" he said, and winked. "Never mind what you tell nobody else, this is me. Now. If you already killed one guy and the cops are lookin' for you ..." Michael sighed. "... then it won't make no difference you kill another guy, 'cause the cops'll _still be looking for you, am I right?"
"No, you're wrong," Michael said. "Because killing _two people is a lot more serious than killing _one person."
"Well, you certainly should know," Frankie said. "And besides, I _didn't ... look, do me a favor, okay? It was nice meeting you, really, and I enjoyed being there at your union meeting ..." "We're not a union," Frankie said. "We're a social and athletic club." "Whatever, it was very nice. I'm glad business was so good, I'm very happy for you. And I appreciate your offer to drive me to St. Luke's Place ..." "So then take the gun and help me out," Frankie said. "I mean, that's the fuckin' _least you can do."
"You make it sound as if I _owe you
157 something," Michael said. "I'm not turnin' you in, am I?" "Goddamn it, I didn't _kill anybody!" "If you can't do the time, don't do the crime," Frankie said.
"Mr. Zepparino," Michael said, "I'm going to get out of this car now."
"Please take the gun," Frankie said, "or I'll blow your fuckin' brains out."
"All right, give me the gun," Michael said. "Now you're talkin' sense," Frankie said, and handed him the gun. "Thank you," Michael said, and pointed the gun at him. "And now I'm going to bid you a fond ..." "That won't do no good," Frankie said. Michael looked at him. "The gun ain't loaded," he said. "What?" "The clip's here in my pocket." "What? What?"
"Also, if a person asks you nice to kill somebody for him, why don't you just _do it?" "Because I ..."
"Instead of threatening that person with an empty pistol?"
Michael was thinking first Charlie Wong with his fake gun, and now Frankie Zeppelin with an empty one. He was thinking he had to get out of this city. He was thinking that he had to get out of here before he himself went crazy. "The person I want you to kill is Isadore Onions," Frankie said. "I'm not about to kill Mr. Onions or anyone else," Michael said wearily.
"There's a deli on Greenwich Avenue," Frankie said, "which is where he
"Who got killed is this guy Crandall." "No, it wasn't Crandall." "On television, they said he was the dead guy. And they said _you killed him. Which, by the way, your name ain't Donald Trump." "That's right, it isn't."
"I mean, nobody in this whole fuckin' _world could be named Donald _Trump. I mean, if you had to pick a phony name ..."
"It's Michael Barnes," Michael said.
"Which also sounds phony. I'm tryin'a help you here, and you keep layin' this bullshit on me. Is it that you don't trust me? I mean, I spent all my life in this fuckin' downtown community, tryin'a build a reputation for honesty and trust, so if there's one thing you can do, it's trust me." "I do trust you," Michael said.
"Good," Frankie said, and pulled a gun from
a holster under his jacket and stuck it in
155 Michael's face. "You know what this is?" he asked Michael. Michael knew what it was. It was a Colt .45 automatic. He had handled many guns exactly like it while he was in the army. "Yes," he said, "I know what it is."
"Good," Frankie said. "You know how to use it?" "Yes." "Good. 'Cause I want you to use it." Michael looked at him.
"There is a person I would like you to kill," Frankie said. Michael kept looking at him. "Because I understand you're very good at that," Frankie said. Everyone in this city is crazy, Michael thought. "You already killed this movie guy," Frankie said, "so it ..."
"No, I _didn't kill this movie ..."
"Hey," Frankie said, "_listen, okay?" and put the gun to his ear as if it were a finger. "This is _me, okay?" he said, and winked. "Never mind what you tell nobody else, this is me. Now. If you already killed one guy and the cops are lookin' for you ..." Michael sighed. "... then it won't make no difference you kill another guy, 'cause the cops'll _still be looking for you, am I right?"
"No, you're wrong," Michael said. "Because killing _two people is a lot more serious than killing _one person."
"Well, you certainly should know," Frankie said. "And besides, I _didn't ... look, do me a favor, okay? It was nice meeting you, really, and I enjoyed being there at your union meeting ..." "We're not a union," Frankie said. "We're a social and athletic club." "Whatever, it was very nice. I'm glad business was so good, I'm very happy for you. And I appreciate your offer to drive me to St. Luke's Place ..." "So then take the gun and help me out," Frankie said. "I mean, that's the fuckin' _least you can do."
"You make it sound as if I _owe you
157 something," Michael said. "I'm not turnin' you in, am I?" "Goddamn it, I didn't _kill anybody!" "If you can't do the time, don't do the crime," Frankie said.
"Mr. Zepparino," Michael said, "I'm going to get out of this car now."
"Please take the gun," Frankie said, "or I'll blow your fuckin' brains out."
"All right, give me the gun," Michael said. "Now you're talkin' sense," Frankie said, and handed him the gun. "Thank you," Michael said, and pointed the gun at him. "And now I'm going to bid you a fond ..." "That won't do no good," Frankie said. Michael looked at him. "The gun ain't loaded," he said. "What?" "The clip's here in my pocket." "What? What?"
"Also, if a person asks you nice to kill somebody for him, why don't you just _do it?" "Because I ..."
"Instead of threatening that person with an empty pistol?"
Michael was thinking first Charlie Wong with his fake gun, and now Frankie Zeppelin with an empty one. He was thinking he had to get out of this city. He was thinking that he had to get out of here before he himself went crazy. "The person I want you to kill is Isadore Onions," Frankie said. "I'm not about to kill Mr. Onions or anyone else," Michael said wearily.
"There's a deli on Greenwich Avenue," Frankie said, "which is where he
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