Ed McBain - Downtown

Only Alice seemed undecided.

Michael had his doubts as well.

Which was why he was moving so swiftly toward Connie.

Because it was one thing to have a look on your face that said handling a gun was second nature to you and you’d as soon shoot a person as treat him to an ice cream cone, but it was another thing to be holding a gun as if you’d never had one in your hand before. Connie was holding those pistols the way Crandall had held the .32 last night. They were both amateurs. Michael recognized this because when it came to oranges or guns, he was a pro. But so was Alice. And in thirty seconds flat, she was going to recognize that Connie didn’t know a trigger from a click sight. In fact, the knowledge was seeping into her eyes that very instant, and Michael knew he had to reach Connie and grab one of those guns from her before Alice made her play.

She moved sooner than he’d expected.

Didn’t say a word.

Merely fired at Connie.

And missed.

And was sighting along the gun barrel to fire again when Michael realized this was not a time for dueling in the sun, this was a time for definitive action — like throwing himself at her. He flung himself sideways, hoping to knock her off balance and realizing an instant too late that he was rushing her with his bad side, rushing her with the bandaged shoulder and arm that had been injured by one of those Car 54, Seventh Precinct cops — where were they now, when he needed them? He let out a horrible yell, similar to the “Aiiii-eeeeee!” he’d screamed at Detective O’Brien all those years ago on Christmas Eve, but this one was involuntary in that the body contact with Alice sent arrows of pain shooting from his arm clear up into his skull. There was another gunshot, and he thought, Oh, Jesus, no! and then Alice screamed and he thought it was because his own scream had frightened her the way it had earlier frightened O’Brien. But his hands where he grabbed for Alice were suddenly sticky and wet, and he realized all at once that Connie had actually fired one of those guns, Connie had actually shot Alice, who was stumbling backward now as Michael stumbled forward. He said something like “Watch it,” or “What shit,” and Alice very definitely said, “What shit,” and then both of them collapsed to the floor in a hurt and bewildered heap.

Connie was on them in an instant.

Legs widespread.

Both guns angled down at Alice’s head.

“One move,” she said.

“Don’t get dramatic,” Alice said, and tossed her gun onto the floor.

She was bleeding from the shoulder.

“It went off,” Connie explained.

“I see that,” Michael said.

“Remember when I asked you if it was a crime to steal stolen goods? That’s when I stole them. From the table. Because he who gathers up his nuts need never leave his hole.”

“If you don’t mind,” Larry said, “there’s a lady present here.”

“Get me a doctor,” Alice said.

Michael wondered if Dr. Ling would make a house call all the way over here in the First Precinct.

“Who’s Mama?” he asked.

“Go fuck yourself,” Alice said.

“Tch,” Larry said, and rolled his eyes.

Silvio still had his hands up in the air.

“Can I put my hands down, lady?” he asked. “Or shall I go fuck myself, too?”

“You can put them down,” Connie said.

“First promise me no bamboo shoots,” Silvio said.

“What?” Connie said.

“And no MSG,” Larry said. “It’s the MSG gives you headaches.”

“Keep your hands up,” Michael said. “Who’s Mama?”

“Quien sabe?” Silvio said.

“Are you Spanish?” Michael asked.

“No, I’m Italian. But everybody knows what quién sabe means.”

“Sure,” Larry said. “It’s what Tonto calls the Lone Ranger.”

“Anyway,” Alice said testily, “we don’t know who Mama is, and please get me a goddamn doctor.”

“Why are you trying to kill us?” Michael asked.

“ We’re trying to kill you?” Alice said. “This Asian person almost takes off my arm with that weapon in her hand, and we’re trying to kill you?”

“That’s certainly comical, all right,” Larry said, shaking his head in wonder.

“Can I put my hands down?” Silvio asked.

“No,” Michael said. “Who’s Mama?”

“Call a doctor,” Alice said.

“No. Who is she?”

“Call the police, too. I want to press charges against this illegal alien.”

“I’m legal,” Connie said.

“Sure. So’s Mama.”

“Go ahead, tell them,” Larry said, shaking his head again.

“I didn’t tell them anything.”

“You told them Mama’s an illegal alien.”

“No, you just told them.”

“I said Mama’s illegal?”

“An illegal alien, is exactly what you said.”

“Did I say that?” Larry asked, turning to Silvio.

“How come everybody can put their hands down but me?” Silvio asked.

“If I bleed to death here, they’ll deport you,” Alice said to Connie.

“Let’s talk a deal,” Michael said. “If you had one wish in the whole world, and you could get that wish by telling us who Mama is, what would that wish be?”

“Could I please put my hands down?” Silvio said.

“Yes,” Michael said.

“You just blew your wish, dummy,” Larry said.

“That wasn’t my wish,” Silvio said, shaking his hands out from the wrists. “That was just a polite request.”

“Just get me a doctor,” Alice said.

“Is that your wish?”

“I wish my mother would go back to Palermo,” Silvio said.

“I wish she’d take my mother with her,” Larry said, and both men burst out laughing.

Alice laughed, too.

Blood was trickling from her left shoulder, but she suddenly began laughing along with her buddies. Michael was thinking it would be fun to work with these three if only they weren’t killers. He tried to remember if any of it had been fun in Vietnam. Working with the killers there. He guessed maybe some of it had been fun. Before the baby.

Hell she doing out here? Andrew asked.

The baby crying.

Must’ve crawled out from the village, the RTO said.

“Who’s Mama?” Michael said.

“You want to get us all killed?” Larry asked.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Michael said. “I’m going to make the wish for you, okay? I’m going to wish that I don’t go to that phone on the wall there, and call the police, and tell them to come up here and get you, that’s what I’m going to wish.”

“First Precinct,” Connie said. “I have the number in my book.”

“Go ahead, call them,” Alice said.

“I keep all the precinct numbers handy,” Connie said. “In case I get a weirdo. I know all the desk sergeants down here.”

“Do you know Tony Orso?” Michael asked.

“No. Is he a desk sergeant?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t know him.”

“Tony the Bear Orso.”

“No.”

“I know him,” Silvio said.

“So do I,” Larry said.

“Do you know Detective Daniel Cahill?” Michael asked.

“Go call all these cops, why don’t you?” Alice said. “Tell them your Chink girlfriend tried to kill me.”

“How would you like a punch in the mouth?” Connie asked pleasantly.

“Go ahead, hit me. That’ll look good on your record, too.”

“Detective Cahill?” Michael said. “Ring a bell?”

“There was a cop up Sing Sing named Cahill,” Larry said.

“No, that was Cromwell,” Silvio said.

“Oh, yeah,” Larry said, and nodded and smiled, as though fondly remembering Sing Sing.