"Nice to meet you, Detective Carella," he and extended his hand.
They shook hands. The girls seemed more in of Bobby than they did of the visiting Open-mouthed, wide-eyed, they looked i at this handsome young man who could talk so easily and naturally to a detective, even shake with him. When Bobby said, "Excuse us, won't you, girls?" signaling that he wanted the girls to depart as graciously as they could, Carella thought they would wet their pants in gratitude.
Smiling, fumbling to their feet, bowing and scraping like handservants in a movie about ancient China, they managed to back away without tripping all over themselves, and then hurried off up the street, glancing back frequently at the radiant boy-emperor who had granted an audience with the local constabulary. Bobby gave a sort of embarrassed shrug coupled with a boyish grin that said, What're you gonna do when you're so handsome? Carella nodded in sympathetic understanding, even though he'd never had such a problem.
"I'm glad I found you," he said. "Few things I'd like to ask you about.”
"Sure, anything," Bobby said.
"From what your father told me, Nathan Hooper was here trying to sell dope on Easter Sunday, is that right?”
"Mr. Crack," Bobby said, and nodded.
"That's his street name, huh?”
"That's what they call him at the school.”
"Mr. Crack.”
"Yeah, the kids at the elementary school. Which .is why we didn't want him in the neighborhood. It's enough he's at the school, am I right? We warned him, we told him stay away from the and stay away from where we live. But he came anyway.”
"Why do you suppose he did that?" Carella "I still can't figure it,” Bobby said, shaking head. "I think he was just looking for trouble.”
"Tell me what happened," Carella said.
What happened was it's two-thirty, three in the afternoon on Easter Sunday, and all the and girls are hanging around outside where D Peretti lives. This is 275 North Eleventh, near Italian deli. It wasn't such a good day, Easter, do remember? A lot of wind, very grey, in fact it like it might snow. We'd all gone to church morning, well, the twelve o'clock mass, this was Easter, we went to St. Kate's where Michael later chased us away. But you can't him, he didn't know what was happening. All knew was a bunch of kids yelling and inside his church.
So we were, I don't know, showing off for girls, clowning around. I remember Allie was his imitation of what was supposed to be Bennett singing I Lost My Heart in San Francis, but he sounded more like Jerry Lewis, did you hear Jerry Lewis sing? Man. Anyway, we making our own fun, you know what I Because the weather was so terrible, and supposed to be spring, supposed to be sunshine Easter, you know? So we were making the best And all at once, there he was.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
None of us could.
I mean, here's Mr. Crack in person, who we told at least a hundred times to keep his shit out of our neighborhood and out of the elementary school, and he comes strutting up the street like he owns it. Man.
Allie stopped doing Tony Bennett, and all of us just sat there watching him come closer and closer. He wears his hair the way they're all wearing it now, shaved close all over and then what looks like an upside down flowerpot on top. He's all dressed up, it's Easter Sunday. He keeps coming. We're all watching him do his shuffle up the street. Sitting there dumbfounded. Trying to figure out is he crazy or what? He's got a big grin on his face. Big watermelon-eating grin. Here's Mr. Crack, boys and girls, here to dispense his goodies. Break out your five-dollar bills, here's the man's going to chase all your cares away.
Afternoon, ladies, he says, and nods to the girls.
As if he's Eddie Murphy, you know?
Instead of some nigger here to sell crack.
Boys, he says, how we doin'?
One of the guys, this is Jimmy Gottardi, he knew t-looper personally from when they were doing this Operation Clean-Up on Fifth. What it was, the neighborhood people were cleaning out this lot that was full of garbage and junk and whatnot. Jimmy and some of the other guys on the block, but who weren't there that Sunday, volunteered to go and lend a hand. So you see right offit isn't true they say happened on Easter. I mean, these w. white guys going over to a black neighborhood help clean up an empty lot. They weren't paid for it, they were doing it as a service. So whoever says this thing on Easter Sund was racist is out of his mind.
Anyway, Jimmy knew Hooper from th Clean-Up thing, so he says Hey, Nate - H first name is Nathan, he calls himself Nate when ain't Mr. Crack Hey, Nate, how you doing, and on, like he's giving him the benefit of the doubt, he giving him an opportunity to say he ain't here crack. And Hooper stands there grinning, Jimmy Oh so-so, man, ever'thin' cool, manknow how they go and Jimmy says What brin you here to Eleventh Street, Nate, and Hooper his eyes up the street, checking it out, you know, his eyes come back all serious and hard and no smile on his face anymore, and he says needin'?
What he means, of course, is does anybody some crack. Because if we need it, he's here to it. He turns to one of the girls...
"This is only what you figured, right?" said. "That he meant he was selling crack.”
"Figured, what do you mean figured? He right out and said it.”
"I thought he only asked if...”
"No, no, that was at first. But then he turned to one of the girls, and he goes, "Honey? You lookin' for some choice crack?'“
This is a fifteen-year-old girl he's talking to, Laurel Perucci, she lives in my building. Fifteen years old, I don't think she even knows what crack is, he's asking her is she looking for some choice crack.
Man. But we still didn't do anything, I mean it. He was here, he was selling dope, but nobody got excited, nobody flew off the handle. In fact, Jimmy who worked with him on the Clean-Up, looks at him and says Come on, Nate, this ain't that kind of neighborhood, something like that, letting him know this is where we live, we don't want no dope here, okay, cool it. And Hooper goes Oh, that right, man?
This ain't that kind of neighborhood, that right? And he turns to Laurel again and he goes, Honey, how you like some of this sweet stuff, huh, baby? and he's holding the vial of crack like right where his cock is, you understand what I'm saying? There's like a double meaning. He's like spitting in our eye.
He's saying not only is he gonna sell crack here, he's also gonna insult, this innocent fifteen-year-old girl.
So it happened.
"What happened?" Carella asked.
"A fight started, what do you think happened?”
"Someone hit him with a baseball bat, isn't that right?”
"No, what baseball bat? There was no baseball bat. It was a fist fight.
This was Easter Sunday, who was playing baseball? Where was a baseball bat gonna come from?”
"Hooper says he got hit with a ball bat.”
"Hooper's a lying bastard.”
“He says he got chased up the street with baseball bats and garbage can lids.”
"Sure. Because he was the one with the fuckin knife.”
"He had a knife?”
"A switchblade knife. He pulled it the minute first punch was thrown.”
"Who threw the first punch?”
“Me. I admit it," Bobby said, and grinned.
"And you say he pulled a knife?”
"First thing he did.”
"Then what?”
"One of the guys hit him from behind, the back the head. And he must've figured the knife going to help him here, he'd better get the hell out here fast. So he began running. And we ran n after him.”
"To the church.”
"Yeah, he ran inside St. Kate's. We chased inside, too. And then Father Michael started we were hoodlums and all that, and get out of hit church, and we tried to tell him this was crack-dealer here, he was trying to sell dope in neighborhood, he insulted one of our girls, he had knife, for Christ's sake... I admit I said that church, I admit I took the name of the Lord in Father Michael had a fit. What? What did you say?