“Then what?”
“When he’s through, you go downstairs to get mugged and printed. Then they take you over to the Criminal Courts Building for arraignment.”
“They’re gonna take my picture, huh?” Stevie asked.
“Yeah.”
“You think there’ll be reporters here?”
“Huh?”
“Reporters.”
“Oh. Maybe. All the wire services hang out in a room across the street from where the vans pulled up. They got their own police radio in there, and they get the straight dope as soon as it’s happening, in case they want to roll with it. There may be some reporters.” Skinner paused. “Why? What’d you do?”
“It ain’t so much what I done,” Stevie said. “I was just wonderin’ if we’d make the papers.”
Skinner stared at him curiously. “You’re all charged up, ain’t you, Stevie?”
“Hell, no. Don’t you think I know I’m in trouble?”
“Maybe you don’t know just how much trouble,” Skinner said.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“This ain’t as exciting as you think, kid. Take my word for it.”
“Sure, you know all about it.”
“I been around a little,” Skinner said drily.
“Sure, on park benches all over the country. I know I’m in trouble, don’t worry.”
“You kill anybody?”
“No,” Stevie said.
“Assault?”
Stevie didn’t answer.
“Whatever you done,” Skinner advised, “and no matter how long you been doin’ it before they caught you, make like it’s your first time. Tell them you done it and then say you don’t know why you done it, but you’ll never do it again. It might help you, kid. You might get off with a suspended sentence.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. And then keep your nose clean afterwards, and you’ll be okay.”
“Keep my nose clean! Don’t make me laugh, pal.”
Skinner clutched Stevie’s arm in a tight grip. “Kid, don’t be a damn fool. If you can get out, get out now! I coulda got out a hundred times, and I’m still with it, and it’s no picnic. Get out before you get started.”
Stevie shook off Skinner’s hand. “Come on, willya?” he said, annoyed.
“Knock it off there,” the cop said. “We’re ready to start.”
“Take a look at your neighbors, kid,” Skinner whispered. “Take a hard look. And then get out of it while you still can.”
Stevie grimaced and turned away from Skinner. Skinner whirled him around to face him again, and there was a pleading desperation on the unshaven face, a mute reaching in the red-rimmed eyes before he spoke again. “Kid,” he said, “listen to me. Take my advice. I’ve been...”
“Knock it off!” the cop warned again.
He was suddenly aware of the fact that the shades had been drawn and the room was dim. It was very quiet out there, and he hoped they would take him first. The excitement had risen to an almost fever pitch inside him, and he couldn’t wait to get on that stage. What the hell was Skinner talking about anyway? “Take a look at your neighbors, kid.” The poor jerk probably had a wet brain. What the hell did the police bother with old drunks for, anyway?
A uniformed cop led one of the men from behind the stage, and Stevie moved a little to his left, so that he could see the stage, hoping none of the cops would shove him back where he wouldn’t have a good view. His cop and the policewoman were still talking, paying no attention to him. He smiled, unaware that the smile developed as a smirk, and watched the first man mounting the steps to the stage. The man’s eyes were very small, and he kept blinking them, blinking them. He was bald at the back of his head, and he was wearing a Navy peacoat and dark tweed trousers, and his eyes were red-rimmed and sleepy-looking. He reached to the five-foot-six-inches marker on the wall behind him, and he stared out at the bulls, blinking.
“Assisi,” the Chief of Detectives said, “Augustus, Manhattan one. Thirty-three years old. Picked up in a bar on Forty-third and Broadway, carrying a.45 Colt automatic. No statement. How about it, Gus?”
“How about what?” Assisi asked.
“Were you carrying a gun?”
“Yes, I was carrying a gun.” Assisi seemed to realize his shoulders were slumped. He pulled them back suddenly, standing erect.
“Where, Gus?”
“In my pocket.”
“What were you doing with the gun, Gus?”
“I was just carrying it.”
“Why?”
“Listen, I’m not going to answer any questions,” Assisi said. “You’re gonna put me through a third degree. I ain’t answering nothing. I want a lawyer.”
“You’ll get plenty opportunity to have a lawyer,” the Chief of Detectives said. “And nobody’s giving you a third degree. We just want to know what you were doing with a gun. You know that’s against the law, don’t you?”
“I’ve got a permit for the gun,” Assisi said.
“We checked with Pistol Permits, and they say no. This is a Navy gun, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“I said yeah, it’s a Navy gun.”
“What were you doing with it? Why were you carrying it around?”
“I like guns.”
“Why?”
“Why what? Why do I like guns? Because...”
“Why were you carrying it around?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you must have a reason for carrying a loaded.45. The gun was loaded, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was loaded.”
“You have any other guns?”
“No.”
“We found a.38 in your room. How about that one?”
“It’s no good.”
“What?”
“The.38.”
“What do you mean, no good?”
“The firing mechanism is busted.”
“You want a gun that works, is that it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said the.38’s no good because it won’t fire, didn’t you?”
“Well, what good’s a gun that won’t fire?”
“Why do you need a gun that fires?”
“I was just carrying it. I didn’t shoot anybody, did I?”
“No, you didn’t. Were you planning on shooting somebody?”
“Sure,” Assisi said. “That’s just what I was planning.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know,” Assisi said sarcastically. “Anybody. The first guy I saw, all right? Everybody, all right? I was planning on wholesale murder.”
“Not murder, maybe, but a little larceny, huh?”
“Murder,” Assisi insisted, in his stride now. “I was just going to shoot up the whole town. Okay? You happy now?”
“Where’d you get the gun?”
“From the Navy.”
“Where?”
“From my ship.”
“It’s a stolen gun?”
“No, I found it.”
“You stole government property, is that it?”
“I found it.”
“When’d you get out of the Navy?”
“Three months ago.”
“You worked since?”
“No.”
“Where were you discharged?”
“Pensacola.”
“Is that where you stole the gun?”
“I didn’t steal it.”
“Why’d you leave the Navy?”
Assisi hesitated for a long time.
“Why’d you leave the Navy?” the Chief of Detectives asked again.
“They kicked me out!” Assisi snapped.
“Why?”
“I was undesirable!” he shouted.
“Why?”
Assisi did not answer.
“Why?” There was silence in the darkened room.
Stevie watched Assisi’s face, the twitching mouth, the blinking eyelids.