Ed McBain: See Them Die

"That's enough," Carella shouted.

Zip pushed past the barricade and flung himself at Parker's back. Parker brushed him off like a pesky fly, swinging his huge shoulders, knocking Zip to the pavement.

"Leave him alone!" Zip shouted. "Leave him alone!"

But Parker was hearing nothing. He fired the patrolman's gun at Miranda's head, and then he fired again, and he was preparing to fire a third time when Carella grabbed his arms and pulled him away from the body.

"Somebody get up there to Frankie!" Lieutenant Byrnes shouted. "On the double!"

Two patrolmen rushed into the tenement. Byrnes walked over to Miranda and stared down at him.

"Is he dead?" a reporter called.

Byrnes nodded. There was no triumph in his voice. "He's dead.'"

"They killed him," Zip said to Cooch. "They killed him. The bastards killed him." He clutched Cooch frantically. "Where's Sixto? Where's Papa? We're gonna get him now, you hear me, Cooch? They killed Pepe, Cooch. You understand that? They killed him!" His eyes were wild. A thin layer of sweat covered his entire face.

"What about China?" Cooch asked. "You said we needed China to..."

"The hell with China! Alfie's gonna get his, you hear?"

A patrolman appeared on the fire escape. The street went quiet. He walked to where Frankie Hernandez lay still and silent, and he knelt down, and Byrnes waited. The patrolman stood up.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"Frankie." The patrolman paused. "He's dead, sir."

Byrnes nodded. He nodded again. And then he realized the patrolman was waiting for instructions and, still nodding, he said, "Bring him down. Off there. Off the fire escape. Would you ... would you bring him down, please?"

The reporters had pushed past the barricade now, and they surrounded the body of the dead Miranda. Flash bulbs popped on the street, challenging the sunshine.

"Where's Sixto and Papa?" Zip asked. "Didn't I say to meet me here?"

"Look, Zip, calm down. Try to..."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Zip shouted, shaking Cooch's hand loose. "I know what I'm..." and he stopped talking.

Sixto and Papa had turned the corner, but it was not their appearance which had caused the sudden widening of Zip's eyes. He stared at the two boys and then he stared at their companion, and he balled his fists, because the person with them was Alfredo Gomez.

"Wha—?" he started, and in that instant two patrolmen came from the doorway of the tenement, carrying the body of Frankie Hernandez on a stretcher. The people in the crowd began murmuring his name as the body went past. Handkerchiefs appeared, and women sniffled into them. The men in the crowd were taking off their hats and holding them to their chests.

"It's Frankie," Luis said. "Close the doors! For respect! For respect!" He reached up for the overhead door of the luncheonette and pulled it down. On the avenue side of the shop another man pulled down the door there, so that the shop faced the street blindly — We will not conduct business while you pass by, my friend — as the patrolmen carried the body of Hernandez toward the ambulance.

"Can we get a few more pictures of Miranda, Lieutenant?" one of the reporters asked.

"Take all the pictures you want," Byrnes said. "He's in no hurry. Not any more."

Luis rolled back the doors. The shop was open again.

"What happens now, Lieutenant?" the reporter asked.

Byrnes sighed heavily. "We pile him in the meat wagon, and we cart him off. I get my men off the streets. Try to unsnarl the traffic. And then take up a collection for a good cop. I don't know. What happens next?" He turned to Carella. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's gonna tell Frankie's father? Who's gonna go into that candy store around the corner, where he's got Frankie's picture pasted to the mirror, who's gonna go in there and tell him Frankie is dead?"

"I'll do it if you like, Pete."

"No," Byrnes said, sighing and shaking his head. "It's my job."

"We really nailed him, didn't we?" Parker said, striding over. "We really nailed the son of a—"

"Shut up, Parker!" Byrnes snapped.

"Wh—?"

"Shut your goddamn mouth!"

"Wh-what the hell is wrong now?' Parker asked, his face taking on a hurt and astonished look.

Sixto, Papa, and Alfredo stood near the luncheonette. Zip walked to them quickly.

"What is this, Sixto?" he asked.

"What do you think it is, Zip?"

"I don't like guessing games. What are you up to?"

"I tell you, Zip," Sixto said simply. "If you wann to kill Alfredo, you got to kill us all."

"What the hell are you talking about, you meatball?"

"I say it pretty plain, Zip."

"You know me an' Cooch are heeled? You know we can blast you all over the sidewalk?"

"Si, we know," Sixto said. "Go ahead. Blast us all ov' the sidewalk."

"What do you...?" Zip stopped and looked into Sixto's eyes. Slightly unnerved, he said, "What do you — mean?"

"Be careful, Zip," Cooch said quickly. "They got something up their sleeves. I can see it. They're too ... they're too sure of themselves."

"Sixto's got them buffaloed," Zip said quickly. He turned his attention to Papa. "You're on the wrong side, Papa. You stick with Sixto, and it's like siding with the ones who killed Pepe. You'd be..."

"Pepe brings disgrace to the barrio" Papa said.

"All right, that's enough pictures," Byrnes shouted. "Let's get him out of here, huh?"

Two patrolmen reached down and rolled Miranda onto a stretcher. Another patrolman threw a blanket over him. Gingerly, they stepped around the pool of blood in the gutter and began moving toward the luncheonette.

"The doors!" Zip shouted. "Close the doors for him!"

But no one moved toward the doors. Instead, the people in the street watched the body as it passed by, and slowly, one by one, they turned their backs to it, so that the body, as the cops carried it toward the luncheonette, was presented with a solid wall of denial.

"The doors!" Zip shouted again. "We should close the doors!"

But no one moved. One by one, they denied the body of Miranda, and then — silently, so silently — they began moving off the street. What had been a milling, shouting mob not ten minutes ago was suddenly a dispersing group of whispering people, and then not even a group any more, simply a few stragglers, people in twos and threes; and then the street barricades were carted away, and the squad cars revved their engines, and the street seemed to settle down into its Sunday niche again, quiet, peaceful. It almost seemed as if nothing had happened on that street that day.

Zip stood before the opened doors and watched the body of Miranda shoved into the ambulance, and then he whirled toward Sixto and shouted, "You think you're gonna get away with this?"

"Move aside, Zip," Sixto said calmly. "We wann to get through now."

"You won't be able to walk the street no more!" Zip shouted. "You think you..."

"We'll see," Sixto said, and the three boys stepped away from the luncheonette, and walked past Zip and Cooch who did not move to stop them.

"You're making a mistake!" Zip yelled after them. "You're making a big mistake!" But he did not run after them, and he did not try to stop them. "Why didn't you help me, Cooch?" he said suddenly, angrily. "For Christ's sake, we just let them walk away, for Christ's sake!"

"They're ... they're too strong, Zip," Cooch said in a whisper.

"We're the ones with the guns!" Zip protested.

"Yeah, but ... they ... they were strong," Cooch said, and his voice fell.

"Aw—" Zip made a meaningless little gesture with his right hand. "Aw—" He stared off down the street. The squad cars had pulled away now. Patrolmen were still lingering on the block, but most of the police were gone. The street stretched ahead in sticky blackness washed with hot sunshine. On the avenue, the traffic had started up again. "Jesus, what a ... what a miserable day this turned out to be," Zip said, and he looked at Cooch with troubled eyes.