Thirty-five, thirty-six years old, tailored suit, a button-down shirt, and a somber he breezed into the squadroom as if he'd been (or one similar to it) a thousand times before. hello to Corrente, waved to Bobby who seemed sinking lower and lower into a depressive mire, then asked, pleasantly enough, "What seems to the trouble here?" Carella told him what the trouble seemed to The trouble seemed to be First-Degree Second-Degree Burglary, First-Degree Mischief, and Reckless Endangerment o f, Propert "That's what the trouble seems to be, he said "Well, that's, your contention, Detective," .zzi said.
Carella was aware of the sense in which Abruzzi using the word "Detective." His intonation it sound like "Pig.”
"No, that's not my contention, Counselor," he "that's what Robert Corrente's been charged “
He did not like attorneys who defended criminals. especially did not like Italianamerican ys who defended criminals, especially when looked like Richard Nixon and smelled of snake and especially when the criminal was himself an Italianamerican.
Abruzzi was aware of the sense in which Carella was using the word "Counselor." His intonation it sound like "Shyster." Abruzzi hated high mighty Italian-American Law Enforcement Officers who thought their calling was as pure and exalted as a priest's. In a democracy, everyone was entitled to counsel and everyone was innocent until he was proved guilty, and Abruzzi was here to make certain that no American citizen would ever be deprived of his fights, God bless America.
"If you don't mind, Detective," he said, "I'd like to talk to my client and his father privately.”
“Sure," Carella said. "Go right ahead.
Counselor.”
A uniformed cop escorted Abruzzi and the Correntes down the hall to the Interrogation Room.
Carella went to the cage, threw back the opened the door, and said, "One at a time, son. Want to step outside, please?" The eighteen and looked fifteen. Dark hair, wide eyes, a pretty mouth. Like Bobby, he had co from the high induced by whatever the hell ingested and now looked as if he''d been run a railroad locomotive. Carella took him over desk. Hawes was coming from the Clerical with a cup of tea; he liked his afternoon tea.
"What's your name, son?" Carella asked "Rudy Perucci," the kid said.
"Rudy, you're in trouble," Carella said, him his rights. Rudy listened gravely. Carella asked him if he'd understood everything he'd said he had.
Carella asked him if he w attorney.
"Do I need one?" Rudy asked.
"I'm not permitted to advise you on that," said. "You can have one or not, it's entirely you. Either way, it won't reflect upon your innocence.”
“It wasn't me who hit the priest," Rudy said.
"Rudy, before you say anything else, I know whether you want an attorney. If you want you can have one. Either your own, or we're by law to get one for you if you don't h.ave one. please tell me now if you want an attorney.”
"What else do they say I done?" Rudy Carella read off the list of charges.
"That's serious, huh?" Rudy said.
Carella started to tell him exactly how serious it The assault charge was punishable by a max of The burglary charge... "We didn't steal anything," Rudy said.
"Rudy, please don't say anything else, okay?" Carella said. "Let me tell you what these charges i and then you can decide about a lawyer. You he get to fifteen for the assault, fifteen for up years burglary, twenty-five for the reckless ndangerment, and seven for the criminal mischief.”
"I only, went along," Rudy said. "I didn't do |anything.”
"Do you want a lawyer, Rudy?”
"If I didn't do anything, why do I need a lawyer?”
"Yes or no, Rudy?”
"No, I don't need a lawyer.”
"Are you willing to answer questions without a lawyer present?”
"Yes. I don't need a lawyer, I didn't do anything.”
"Can you tell me what happened?”
“I only went along," Rudy said.
"How did it start?”
"We were trying some stuff Bobby got hold of.”
"What stuff?. What'd you take, Rudy?”
"I don't even know the name of it. We just said yes.”
He grinned. He had just made a joke about Nancy Reagan's famous and foolish slogan. Anybody who'd ever smoked only so much as a joint knew exactly how stupid the Just Say No campal been. Rudy was testing Carella now. To knew how dumb it had been. Carella smiled Two old buddies familiar with the ways abuse. But only one of them had gone berserk a church.
"It was real good, man," Rudy said, still Carella was willing to bet it had been real "So what happened?" he asked pleasantly.
"Bobby wanted to go get his stuff back.”
"What stuff?.”
"The stuff the nigger ripped off.”
"Ripped off?.”
"Yeah, you know.”
"No, I don't know. Tell me.”
This is the fifth episode of Rashomon.
there will be no more installments. This is the chapter. At least Carella hopes it is the final They are back to Easter Sunday again, the windy, shitty day, everyone seems to agree weather. And it is still two-thirty, three o'clock afternoon, everyone agrees on the time as well. the star player, or at least one of the star this tedious and interminable little me once again coming up Eleventh Street, doing Rudy calls his Nigger Shuffle, and grinning into wind like he owns the world.
Alexis has not anything about this part of the saga because she not witness to it, but so far Hooper's, Bobby's, Seronia's versions are all in agreement. But they to the dope part again, which dope Hooper first there to sell, and next there to buy, and next off with after Bobby accused him of using funny the last time they traded. And, sure enough, are going into the hallway again, and another dope transaction is about to go down, these two Bobby and Hooper- are in the habit of exchanging money for dope, you see, and vice versa, Mrs. Reagan, which is why little girls in red hoods should not go wandering off into the woods where evil and corruption lurk, hmmm?
So there in the hallway, out comes the crack. A hundred vials, identical to the tiny glass tubes perfume samples come in, except that these vials don't contain Eau du Printemps. These vials contain little crystals that look like exaggerated grains of salt but which are actually cocaine base, which is made by heating a mixture of baking soda, cocaine hydrochloride and water, and then letting it cool.
These little vials are deadly.
Out comes the crack... "And out comes the piece," Rudy said. "The what?”
"The piece.”
"A gun?”
"A gun.”
"Bobby pulled a gun?”
"No, no. The nigger pulled the gun... because what he has in mind, you see, is taking these hundred vials worth four hundred bucks and not giving Bobby a red cent for them. That the piece is for. Which upon closer looks like a .38 caliber Smith & Wesson Re Police Model 33, capable of putting very lar in anyone's head who is stupid enough grabbing that plastic bag of crack away Hooper.
Unless the someone is standing a little side of and slightly behind the nigger, and there's a baseball bat (and also a softball and a but it is only the bat that is of importance) corner of the hallway, where one of the kids when his mother called him upstairs to The bat is propped against the wall, and the the softball are on the floor, the ball in the the mitt (although this is an insignificant detail)!: the kid standing slightly behind and to the le Hooper is not Bobby Corrente but his kid bro Frankie Corrente, who is rapidly learning the of the street, and especially how to seize opportunity.