Ed McBain: See Them Die

"Let's try it again," Parker said tiredly. "What are you doing around here?"

"I heard you the first time," Jeff said.

"Then give me a straight answer."

"Is this neighborhood off limits?"

"No, it ain't off limits, but it sure as hell..."

"Then leave me alone."

Parker studied him silently for a moment. Then he said, "Pretty salty, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty salty," Jeff said.

"Andy, he's a little drunk," Luis put in, spreading his hands. "You know, go easy on..."

"Keep out of this, Luis," Parker snapped.

"I'm sober now, Louise. Thanks."

"I asked a question."

"Oh, for God's sake," Jeff said, "I came to sit up with a sick grandmother."

Zip burst out laughing and then immediately squelched the laughter when Parker turned a frigid glare on him. Zip shrugged. Parker turned back to the sailor.

"What's your grandmother's name?" he asked icily.

"Now you got me, officer. I always just called her plain Grandma."

"What ship you off?"

"Why?"

"I'm asking!"

"How do I know you ain't a Russian spy?"

"You guys think you're pretty wise, don't you? Coming up here and fouling up my precinct?"

"Who's fouling up your lousy precinct? I'm drinking a cup of coffee, that's all."

"Here, Andy, here," Luis said, anxious to make peace. "Here's your coffee. Drink it while it's still hot."

Parker took the cup. "You know how many sailors get rolled up here?" he persisted.

"How many?" Jeff asked.

"This sailor don't get rolled, Lieutenant," Zip said. "He's under my protection."

"You couldn't protect a wooden nickel from a blind man. What'd you come looking for, sailor?"

"I told you," Jeff said, annoyed now. "Grandma."

"Tail?"

"Why? You peddling it on the side?"

"Sailor, don't get..."

"You mean to tell me I could actually find some in this nice, sweet, clean precinct you're so afraid I'm going to foul up?"

"Sailor, I'm talking to you like a friend. Get the hell out of here. Luis, am I giving him bum advice?"

Luis shrugged. "I told him the same thing, Andy!"

"Sure," Parker said, nodding. "Look, Luis lives here. He knows this place like the back of his hand. Did you tell him about this neighborhood, Luis?"

"I told him, I told him."

"About what you run into around here? The guys like Pepe Miranda?"

"Si, ah, there's a one," Luis said.

"What's the matter with Pepe?" Zip asked. "He made you guys look like a bunch of monkeys yesterday." He grinned suddenly. "How many cops did he ambush? Four? Five? Man, he made you look sick." He turned to Jeff. "They walked into the apartment, and in ten seconds he had their guns and was on his his merry way. They're lucky he didn't shoot them, just for kicks."

"Big hero, huh?" Parker said. "He eludes the law, so you make him..."

"I ain't making him nothing. It only seems to me that you big detective masterminds should have got him by now, that's all. Don't you think so?"

"We'll get him," Parker said. "Especially if he came back to this neighborhood."

"Did he come back?" Zip asked, leaning forward.

"Maybe," Parker said.

"No kidding?"

Parker shrugged.

"Here? No kidding?"

"You wouldn't happen to know where, would you?"

"Me? Why, Lieutenant, I would tell you instantly if I knew. But, unfortunately, I do not follow the movements of the underworld."

"Luis?" Parker asked, turning to the counter suddenly, as if hoping to catch Luis off guard.

"This is the first I'm hearing, Andy. Why did he come back here? He didn't cause enough trouble here?"

"Who's Pepe Miranda?" Jeff asked.

"Pepe Miranda is a thirty-five-year-old punk. Am I right, Luis?"

"He's only a punk 'cause you can't nab him," Zip said.

"No, no, Andy is right," Luis said. "Miranda's no good. Pghhh, he's rotten."

"Luis and I get along fine," Parker said. "We understand each other. He's been around here as long as I have, and he never so much as spit on the sidewalk." Parker grinned. "He knows I'd drag him down the station house if he did, huh, Luis?"

"Oh, sure, sure," Luis said, riding with the gag.

"Why don't you drag Miranda down the station house, Lieutenant?" Zip asked sweetly.

"Don't think we won't! And cut the lieutenant crap! He's been riding for a fall for a long time now. When a kid has a j.d. card before he's fourteen ..."

"A what?" Jeff asked.

"A juvenile delinquency record. At fourteen. So what can you expect? He's no different now than when he started that street gang years ago. The Golden Spaniards. Remember them, Luis? This was even before street gangs were normal around here."

"He was ahead of his time," Zip said, grinning.

"Ahead of his time, my ass."

"No good," Luis said, pulling a face. "I remember. Snotnoses. Like today. No different."

"Except today is the atomic age," Parker said, "so they carry guns instead of knives. Miranda killed a kid in 1942, sailor, when he was seventeen. Slit the kid from ear to ear."

"The kid probably deserved it," Zip said.

"His lawyer got him off with manslaughter," Parker said.

"He should have got the chair," Luis put in. "They should have burned him."

"They sent him upstate, to Castleview, and he spent just enough time there to get out of fighting in World War II. When he was paroled, he came back here. Heroin was the big thing then. Miranda started pushing it."

"Poisoning children! Argh, what makes men do this!"

"Nobody starts on horse unless he wants to, dad," Zip said. "Don't go blaming Miranda."

"Okay by you if we blame him for all the people he's killed in this goddamn city?"

"You can't prove he killed anybody."

"That's what you think. There's a lady dying in General Hospital right now, and she identified a photo of Miranda as the guy who beat her up and took her purse."

"Miranda mugging? Don't snow me, cop."

"Miranda mugging, yes! Not such a goddamn big shot any more, is he? No more high-pay torpedo jobs now that the heat's on. Only little ladies to beat up. Believe me, when we get that bastard we're gonna throw away the key on him."

"Sure, when you get him."

"We'll get him. He's here someplace, that's for sure. Once we find out where, goodbye Miranda. One less hero in the neighborhood." He took a long draw at his coffee, finishing it. Putting down the cup, he said, "That was good coffee, Luis. Luis makes the best damn cup of coffee in the city."

"Sure, sure."

"He thinks I'm kidding him. Even if I didn't like you, Luis, I'd still come here to drink your coffee, you know that?"

"It's good having a cop for a steady customer. It keeps trouble away."

"And there's plenty of that around here," Parker said.

"Well, you don't die from being bored around here," Luis said, grinning.

"It's a hell of a lot different from the island, ain't it?"

"Oh, yes, yes."

"I was down there for a week once, had to bring back this punk who skipped the city after holding up a jewelry store on South Fourth. That's the life, all right. Lay in the sun all day long, suck sugar cane, go fishing. And at night..." He winked at Luis. "There's no holding down the Puerto Rican men at night, eh, Luis?"

"Andy, for a man who's a man ... the nights are the same any place, no?"

"Oh, brother, watch out for this guy!" Parker said, laughing. "He's got three kids already, and I think he's gunning for number four."

"At my age?" Luis said, laughing with him. "No, no, it would take a miracle."

"Or a boarder," Parker said. "Keep your eye on the boarder, Luis." He put his hand on Jeffs shoulder. "There are more boarders in this neighborhood than you can shake a stick at. We got areas called 'hot bed' areas, where guys rent out apartments on an eight-hour basis, three sleeping shifts, would you believe it?"