"Well, well, well," he said.
"Feel like a party, sailor?" Marge asked.
He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes roaming the street. Then he said, "Yes, goddamnit, I feel just like a party!" and he grabbed Marge's elbow, and the four of them turned the corner and went off up the avenue.
Two boys wearing bright-gold jackets turned into the block.
They stood with their hands on their hips for a moment. Both wore sunglasses, both wore their dark hair in high crowns. The bigger of the two, and the older a boy of about twenty who stood a little over six feet tall wore a silver identification bracelet on his right wrist. His name was Tommy. The other boy, nineteen and short by modern standards, was called Li'1 Killer. His real name was Phil. He had never killed anyone in his life, but the name made him sound like a guy who'd cut out your liver for the price of an ice-cream soda. The tall one, Tommy, nodded at Phil and they walked directly toward the crate where Papa and the two girls stood craning their necks.
"Hey, kid," Tommy said.
Papa turned. "You talk to me?"
"Off the box," Tommy said flatly.
"Huh?" Papa said. "Why?"
"You heard him," Phil said. "Off the box. We want a view."
Papa looked down to where Sixto stood near the side of the crate.
"Sixto, go call..." he started, and Phil shoved out at Sixto before he could move.
"Stay put, sonny," he said.
"Don't hurt him, Li'1 Killer," Tommy said. He chuckled. "Just cripple him."
"Listen, why do you want trouble for?" Elena said, looking past them to where Zip stood at the ices cart near the corner.
"Who wants trouble?" Tommy asked gently. "Li'1 Killer and me, we asked your friend very politely to get the hell off that box, that's all. That ain't no trouble."
"That ain't no trouble at all," Phil said.
In that instant, Lieutenant Byrnes waved his arm at the rooftops, and the police opened fire. The firing was a precise, methodical operation designed to keep Miranda away from the front windows. At the same time, the distant echo of guns could be heard in the back yard, and over that, like a triangle player in a hundred-piece orchestra, the sound of shattering glass. Miranda appeared at the front windows for just an instant, looked into the street, saw what he was supposed to see, and ducked back into the apartment.
The cops of the 87th rushed the doorway to the left of La Gallina.
Miranda saw them the second before he ducked his head. Lieutenant Byrnes led the charge, shooting up at the windows as he ran. Behind him were Steve Carella and Andy Parker and half a dozen patrolmen, all with guns in their hands. Frankie Hernandez brought up the rear. One by one, the cops entered the tenement. Hernandez seemed to be following them and then, suddenly, at the last moment, he swerved to the right of the doorway and flattened himself against the front of the building.
At the same time, Captain Frick who commanded the uniformed cops of the 87th brought the megaphone to his mouth and shouted, "We're coming in, Miranda! We're going to knock that front door right off its hinges."
There was no answer from within the apartment.
"We're coming in, Miranda! We're coming up those steps right now!" Frick shouted, and he hoped Miranda would buy it.
In the hallway, Byrnes, Carella, and Parker crouched on the steps. They could hear the gunfire outside, could hear shouts from the cops, screams from the crowd, the sound of glass breaking and wood splintering, the high whistle of slugs that caromed and ricocheted.
Outside, Frankie Hernandez stealthily moved past the glass front of La Gallina, working his way toward the fire escape.
The crowd was suddenly hushed.
The only sound on the street now was the explosion of the revolvers on the rooftops and in the windows facing Miranda's apartment.
She came around the corner hurriedly.
There were tears on her face, and her blouse had pulled free from her skirt, and she thought she could still feel the imprint of Cooch's fingers where he had touched her. It was twenty minutes past twelve, and she hoped against hope that Jeff would still be there, hoped he had at least the faith to realize ... to realize what? Tears streaking her face, she rushed into the luncheonette.
He was not there.
She looked at the empty stools, and then she turned to Luis and she said, "Luis, there was a sailor..." and Luis nodded instantly.
"He left."
"I ... I couldn't get away and then ... the crowds in the street..."
"He left," Luis said again.
She turned from him quickly and went into the street again. She could hear the pistol shots, thunder on a sunny day. "China, hey, China!" She wished it would really rain, she wished the skies would open and "China, hey, don't you hear me?" rain would come down to wash the streets, wash all the...
"Hey! China!'
She looked up suddenly. "What? Oh oh, hello."
Zip was standing by the ices cart, grinning.
"Hey, how are you, China?"
"Fine," she said. "I'm fine, thank you."
"You want some ices?"
"No. No, thank you, Zip."
He studied her. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing."
"You look like you was crying. Was somebody bothering you?"
She shook her head. "No, no."
"If anybody bothers you, you just let me know," he said. "I'll take care of them the way I'm gonna take care of Alfie."
"You leave Alfie alone!" she said sharply and suddenly, her eyes flashing.
"Huh?"
"Why do you want to hurt him? You have no right to hurt him!"
"Hell, I ain't afraid of him!" Zip said.
"Nobody said you were."
"It's just, he's got this coming, that's all."
"You know he didn't do anything, Zip. You know that."
"He done plenty! I'm gonna bust him wide open. I'm gonna..."
She began crying suddenly and fitfully. "Why do you talk that way?" she shouted. "Why do you have to sound so tough? Aren't you ever yourself? Can't you be yourself?"
Surprised by her sudden passion, he stared at her, speechless.
"What are you trying to show?" she asked, the tears running down her face. "What are you trying to do? Make it worse here than it really is? What's wrong with you? What the hell is wrong with you?"
He stared at her, confused. He reached out to touch her, not knowing that the tears were something which had been building inside her from the moment Cooch attacked her, building on the wild run from the tenement to the luncheonette, building against the desperate hope that the sailor would still be there, kept in check by sheer will power, and now overflowing; he did not know these things, he only knew that she was crying. And in the face of such female vulnerability, in the face of anguish such as he had never known or seen, Zip pulled back his hand, unable to touch her in that moment, unable to establish a contact which seemed in that moment too intimate, too revealing.
"Hey ... hey. listen," he said, "don't cry. What do you want to cry for?"
"Promise me you won't do anything to Alfie," she said. "Promise me."
"Listen ... hey, you don't have to cry."
"Promise me."
"China ... everybody knows what I said I was gonna do. Like I told them" He hesitated. "I told them you was my girl."
"You shouldn't have said that."
"I know. I mean, even I know you ain't my girl. Listen, can't you stop crying? You want my handkerchief?"
"No," China said, sobbing. "I'm not crying."
"Here, take it," he said, handing her the handkerchief. "I hardly used it yet."
She took the handkerchief and blew her nose.
"You want some ices?" Zip asked lamely.
"No. Zip, you won't hurt him, will you? He did nothing to me, believe me. He's a nice boy."
Zip did not answer.
"You'll be doing something very wrong if you hurt him."
"You ain't sore at me, are you?" His voice dropped. "Like because I said you was my girl?"