breathed, because every time he wanted to say something he changed his mind and swallowed it. Everybody looked so innocent and everything felt so wrong.
“You just have to say the word,” he said quietly, “and I haul them in.”
“No, sir,” said the young man. “I’m sorry.”
The captain turned and saw me. He stopped, looked surprised, and then mean.
“You come in here for some candy, too?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“That’s one of your machines, isn’t it?”
“It might be. I’d have to look it up on the roster. I don’t …”
“And you don’t happen to know those three animals there and their keeper.”
“No, Captain.”
He nodded and bit his lip. He was feeling like hell in his uniform. Right that moment, I was sure, he would have liked to have been just a plain, irresponsible civilian.
“Did I say five o’clock, St. Louis?”
“That you did, Captain.”
“Make that three o’clock, St Louis. And at one minute past I write out a warrant, get me?”
“I’ll be there.”
He left. When he left, the knot of kids in front of the store left too.
It was quiet in the store, but not peaceful. The three men with Folsom didn’t say anything. They were waiting to be told. Folsom hitched his jacket around, as if it was too tight in the shoulders. He wasn’t quite sure about what I might be thinking. The young man with the baby thought I was a bastard. And the baby looked at me.
I myself was in very keen shape. No sleep, no Benotti, our own apes out of hand. Not to mention the cops. I looked at all the pretty candy and wondered how I could ever have liked the stuff.
“Haha,” went Folsom.
It was strictly a stage laugh, but it fit. We were all lying.
“Saved yourself a lot of grief there,” he said to the young man.
The young man looked at me and it showed how disgusted he was.
“And now to what we were talking about,” said Folsom.
“What was it?” I asked the young man.
He started rocking the baby up and down and wouldn’t answer.
“He,” said Folsom, “is one of the creeps around here what’s worried about us and Benotti. So I was trying to clarify him. Explain, is what I mean, whom to worry about.”
“You mean you.”
“Sure. Us.”
“I want out,” said the young man. “I don’t need that jukebox so much I’m going to get caught in the middle of something, something between one greedy gang and another.”
For a moment he had gotten his spunk back, but then, with all of us standing there, he stopped himself and got sullen again.
“I didn’t used to think that way, about you, Mister St. Louis. You know that.”
Old Home Week, and how we used to feel about each other. I felt edgy and nervous and wished the baby would look someplace else. Folsom laughed his laugh again. Then he stopped and said, “You gonna take that, St. Louis?”
“No.”
As far as Folsom was concerned, this cleared the air. He grinned at me, he grinned at his men. Then he leaned his arms on the counter and watched the one he had called Gus walk behind the counter. Gus went there quite slowly, punched a button on the cash register. The drawer jumped open and Gus took out a quarter. He went back around and put the quarter into the jukebox. He punched three songs.
“Now,” said Folsom. “I’m going to ask you once more, feller.”
“Wait just a minute.” I nodded at Folsom and waited till he came up close. I put my hand on his shoulder and got my head close to his, so that we talked secrets the way they do at the football game.
“The cop,” I said. “He the first one you ran into?”
“Yeah. Why?”
He liked the whispering. It made him feel like we were two heads of state.
“He’s the second one I’ve seen. They were cruising near Baker Avenue too.”
“Bastards.” He said it as if he were thinking about it.
“What do you think we should do?” I asked him.
“Do?” Then he caught himself. After all, this was the role like in a big dream. “We stay right where we
“You just have to say the word,” he said quietly, “and I haul them in.”
“No, sir,” said the young man. “I’m sorry.”
The captain turned and saw me. He stopped, looked surprised, and then mean.
“You come in here for some candy, too?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“That’s one of your machines, isn’t it?”
“It might be. I’d have to look it up on the roster. I don’t …”
“And you don’t happen to know those three animals there and their keeper.”
“No, Captain.”
He nodded and bit his lip. He was feeling like hell in his uniform. Right that moment, I was sure, he would have liked to have been just a plain, irresponsible civilian.
“Did I say five o’clock, St. Louis?”
“That you did, Captain.”
“Make that three o’clock, St Louis. And at one minute past I write out a warrant, get me?”
“I’ll be there.”
He left. When he left, the knot of kids in front of the store left too.
It was quiet in the store, but not peaceful. The three men with Folsom didn’t say anything. They were waiting to be told. Folsom hitched his jacket around, as if it was too tight in the shoulders. He wasn’t quite sure about what I might be thinking. The young man with the baby thought I was a bastard. And the baby looked at me.
I myself was in very keen shape. No sleep, no Benotti, our own apes out of hand. Not to mention the cops. I looked at all the pretty candy and wondered how I could ever have liked the stuff.
“Haha,” went Folsom.
It was strictly a stage laugh, but it fit. We were all lying.
“Saved yourself a lot of grief there,” he said to the young man.
The young man looked at me and it showed how disgusted he was.
“And now to what we were talking about,” said Folsom.
“What was it?” I asked the young man.
He started rocking the baby up and down and wouldn’t answer.
“He,” said Folsom, “is one of the creeps around here what’s worried about us and Benotti. So I was trying to clarify him. Explain, is what I mean, whom to worry about.”
“You mean you.”
“Sure. Us.”
“I want out,” said the young man. “I don’t need that jukebox so much I’m going to get caught in the middle of something, something between one greedy gang and another.”
For a moment he had gotten his spunk back, but then, with all of us standing there, he stopped himself and got sullen again.
“I didn’t used to think that way, about you, Mister St. Louis. You know that.”
Old Home Week, and how we used to feel about each other. I felt edgy and nervous and wished the baby would look someplace else. Folsom laughed his laugh again. Then he stopped and said, “You gonna take that, St. Louis?”
“No.”
As far as Folsom was concerned, this cleared the air. He grinned at me, he grinned at his men. Then he leaned his arms on the counter and watched the one he had called Gus walk behind the counter. Gus went there quite slowly, punched a button on the cash register. The drawer jumped open and Gus took out a quarter. He went back around and put the quarter into the jukebox. He punched three songs.
“Now,” said Folsom. “I’m going to ask you once more, feller.”
“Wait just a minute.” I nodded at Folsom and waited till he came up close. I put my hand on his shoulder and got my head close to his, so that we talked secrets the way they do at the football game.
“The cop,” I said. “He the first one you ran into?”
“Yeah. Why?”
He liked the whispering. It made him feel like we were two heads of state.
“He’s the second one I’ve seen. They were cruising near Baker Avenue too.”
“Bastards.” He said it as if he were thinking about it.
“What do you think we should do?” I asked him.
“Do?” Then he caught himself. After all, this was the role like in a big dream. “We stay right where we
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