The boy was pacing now. He looked at his wrist, and then seemingly remembered he didn't have a watch. He pulled a grimace, glanced up the path, and then began pacing in front of the cages again. Carella went on eating his peanuts.
The boy suddenly stopped pacing, stood undecided for a moment, and then walked over to where Carella was sitting.
"Hey, mister," he said, "you know what time it is?"
"Just a second," Carella answered. He finished cracking a peanut, popped it into his mouth, put the shell onto the little pile he'd formed on the bench, dusted his hands, and then looked at his watch.
"About a quarter to five," he said.
"Thanks," the boy answered. He looked off up the path again. He turned back to Carella and studied him for a minute. "Pretty cold, ain't it?" he said.
"Yeah," Carella answered. "Want a peanut?"
"Huh? Oh, no. Thanks."
"Good," Carella said. "Give you some energy, build body warmth."
"No," the boy answered. "Thanks." He studied Carella again. "Mind if I sit?"
"Public park," Carella said, shrugging.
The boy sat, his hands in his pockets. He watched Carella eating the peanuts. "You come here to feed the pigeons or something?" he asked.
"Me?" Carella said.
"Yeah, you."
Carella turned to face the boy fully. "Who wants to know?" he asked.
"I'm just curious," the boy said, shrugging.
"Listen," Carella said, "if you haven't got any business here near the lion house, go take a walk. You ask too many questions."
The boy considered this for a long time. "Why?" he said at last. "You got business here?"
"My business is my business," Carella said. "Don't get snotty, kid, or you'll be picking up your teeth."
"What're you getting sore about? I was only trying to find out…" He stopped abruptly.
"Don't try to find out anything, kid," Carella said, "You'll do better to keep your mouth shut. If you've got business here, just keep it to yourself, that's all. You never know who's listening."
"Oh," the kid said thoughtfully. "Yeah, I hadn't thought of that." He glanced over both shoulders, first peering to the left, then to the right. "There's nobody around, though," he said.
"That's true," Carella answered.
"So, you know…" The boy hesitated again. Carella pretended to be interested in his peanuts. "Listen, we're here for the same thing, ain't we?"
"Depends on what you're here for," Carella said.
"Come on, mister, you know."
"I'm here to get some air and eat some peanuts," Carella said.
"Yeah, sure."
"What are you here for?"
"You tell me first," the boy said.
"You're new at this, ain't you?" Carella asked suddenly.
"Huh?"
"Look, kid, my advice to you is don't talk about the junk to anybody, not even me. How do you know I'm not a bull?"
"I never thought of that," the boy said.
"Sure, you never thought of it. So if I was a bull, I could take you right in. Listen, when you've been on it as long as I have, you don't trust nobody."
The boy grinned. "So why you trusting me?" he asked.
"'Cause I can see you're not a bull, and 'cause I can see you're new at the game."
"I could be a bull," the boy countered.
"You're too young. How old are you, eighteen?"
"I'm almost twenty."
"So how could you be a bull?" Carella glanced at his watch. "Damnit, what time was this meet supposed to be, anyway?"
"I was told four thirty," the boy said. "You think anything happened to him?"
"Jesus, I sure hope not," Carella said honestly. He was aware of a tense anticipation that began spreading through him. He had established now that there was to be a meet today, and that the meet was to have taken place at four thirty. It was now almost five, which—barring any unforeseen accidents—meant that Gonzo should be showing any minute now.
"You know this Gonzo character?" the boy asked.
"Shhh, Jesus, don't use names," Carella said, making a big show of looking around. "Boy, you're real green."
"Argh, nobody's here to listen," the boy said cockily. "Only a nut would be sitting out here in the cold. Unless he wanted to make a buy."
"Or a pinch," Carella said knowingly. "Them damn cops can lay as still as a rock if they want to. You'd never know they was there until the cuffs are on your wrists."
"There ain't no cops around. Listen, why don't you take a look for him?"
"This is my first time with him," Carella said. "I don't know what he looks like."
"Neither do I," the boy answered. "Was you getting from Annabelle?"
"Yeah," Carella said.
"Yeah, me too. He was a nice kid. For a spic."
"Well, spics are okay," Carella said, shrugging. He paused. "You got no idea what this Gonzo looks like?"
"He's supposed to be a little bald. That's all I know."
"He's an old man?"
"No, I don't think so. He's just a little bald. Lots of guys get a little bald, you know that, don't you?"
"Sure," Carella said. He looked at his watch again. "He should've showed by now, don't you think?"
"What time is it?"
"A little after five."
"He'll be here." The boy paused. "How come this is your first time? I mean, with this Gonzo. Annabelle hung himself couple days back, didn't he?"
"Yeah, but I copped big from him before he pulled the plug. I had enough to tide me."
"Oh," the boy said. "What I done, I've been shopping around, you know? I got some good stuff, but I also got a couple bum decks. I figure you got to do business with somebody you trust, don't you?"
"Sure, but how do you know you can trust this Gonzo?"
"I don't. What've I got to lose?"
"Well, hell, he may stick us with beat stuff."
"I'm willing to chance it. Annabelle's stuff was always good."
"Sure, it was. The best."
"He was a good kid, Annabelle. For a spic."
"Yeah," Carella said.
"Don't get me wrong," the boy said. "I got nothing against spics."
"Well, that's a good attitude," Carella said. "There are two things I can't stand, and that's bigots and spics."
"Huh?" the boy said.
"Why don't you go take a walk and look for Gonzo? Maybe he's coming down the path."
"I don't know him."
"Neither do I. You check now, and if he ain't here in five minutes, I'll check next time."
"Okay," the boy said. He rose and walked away from the bench, toward where the path angled down sharply alongside one wall of the lion house.
The things that happened next happened with remarkable rapidity and in almost comic succession. Later, when Carella had a chance to think about the events clearly, unhampered by the subjective viewpoint of having been caught in them while they were happening, he was able to put them in their right sequence. As they happened, they only succeeded in annoying him and in stunning him somewhat. But later, he was able to see them clearly as a pattern of unfortunate coincidence.
He first watched the boy walk up to the path, stand there for a moment, and then shake his head at Carella, indicating that Gonzo was nowhere in sight. Then the boy turned and looked up the other end of the path and, perhaps so that he could get a better view, climbed to a small knoll and walked several paces until he was hidden by one corner of the lion house where the path swung around it The instant the boy stepped out of sight, Carella was aware of someone approaching him from the opposite side of the lion house.
The someone approaching was a patrolman.
He walked briskly, and he wore ear muffs, and his face was very red, and he carried his night stick like a caveman's club. His direction was unmistakable. He was walking in a quick straight line that would take him directly to the bench upon which Carella was sitting. From the corner of his eye, Carella watched the turn in the path around which the boy had disappeared. The patrolman was closer now, walking purposefully and rapidly. He came up to the bench, stopped before Carella, and stared down at him. Carella glanced toward the path again. The boy had not yet returned into view.