See Them Die

by Ed McBain

  Cooch grinned as the three boys entered the tenement. "It ain't gonna make Alfie feel so good," he said.

  Sixto stood on the corner outside the luncheonette, watching Alfredo's building, nervously biting his lower lip.

  Inside the luncheonette, Jeff handed his fortune slip to Luis and said, "How do you like that?"

  "Be patient and of firm resolve," Luis read, "and you will achieve all your ends."

  "Yeah," Jeff said. "What time does La Gallina open?"

  "I had hoped you would forget La Gallina."

  "Well, since I'm already up here..." Jeff shrugged and let the sentence trail. "What time does it open?"

  "This is Sunday," Luis said, "and La Gallina is a bar — among other things. It does not open until noon."

  "Then I've got plenty of time yet."

  "If you'd take my advice..."

  "Hey! Hey your the voice bellowed, and they both turned simultaneously to face the street. Andy Parker seemed to have materialized from nowhere. He approached Sixto, who stood on the corner, and shouted, "You! You there!"

  Sixto, frightened, began to inch away from him "Me?" he asked. "Me?"

  "What are you doing?" Parker asked, coming up close to him.

  "Nothin'. I wass ony jus' standin'..."

  "Against the wall!"

  "Huh?"

  Parker seized his jacket front and slammed him up against the supporting post at the corner of the luncheonette. "I said against the wall!"

  "I ... I dinn do nothin'," Sixto said. "I wass only jus'..."

  "Bend over!"

  Sixto stared at him blankly, uncomprehendingly.

  "Bend over, goddamnit!" Parker shouted.

  Sixto still did not understand. Furiously, because he felt his command was being openly flouted, Parker chopped a fast right to Sixto's gut, doubling him over. He spun him around then so that he faced the corner post, his hands clutching his stomach, his head bent.

  "Put your hands against the wall, palms flat, goddamnit, do what I tell you!" Parker shouted.

  Sixto, doubled over with pain, made an abortive attempt to stretch out his arms, clutched his stomach again, and then shoved his arms out convulsively when Parker hit him in the ribs. He extended his hands and placed them, trembling, against the corner post. Quickly, Parker frisked him. He did an intent and thorough job, so thorough that he did not notice Frankie Hernandez who walked up the street and stopped just short of the luncheonette.

  "Turn around!" Parker shouted. "Now empty your pockets! Everything on the sidewalk! Hurry up!"

  Hernandez walked to where they were standing. "Leave him alone, Andy," he said. He turned to Sixto. "Take off, kid."

  Sixto hesitated, frightened, looking first to one detective and then the other.

  "Get out of here, go ahead! Beat it!"

  Sixto hesitated a moment longer, and then broke into a sprint around the corner, racing up the avenue.

  "Thanks, Frankie," Parker said sarcastically.

  "There's nothing in the penal code that makes it a crime for a kid to be minding his own business, Andy."

  "Who's saying anything?" Parker said. He paused. "But suppose that nice innocent kid was holding a deck of heroin?"

  "He wasn't holding anything. He's no junkie, and you know it. He comes from a good family."

  "Oh, is that right? Junkies don't come from good families, huh? Suppose he was holding, Frankie? Just suppose?"

  "The only thing he's holding right now is contempt for the cop who shook him down."

  "Seems to me you should be interested in looking up the people who are doing something wrong," Jeff said from the luncheonette.

  "We do, sailor," Parker answered. "Day and night. That kid belongs to a street gang, don't he? You saw his club jacket, didn't you? Do you expect me to take crap from every hoodlum on the street?"

  "That kid probably has little enough self-respect as it is," Hernandez said. "So you come along and..."

  "All right, all right, cut it out with the kid, will you? Boy, you'd think I worked him over with a rubber hose." He paused. "Where you headed?"

  "To see the Gomez woman," Hernandez said.

  "She was quite a little trick, that Gomez woman. Pushing fifty, maybe, but still got it all in the right places. You sure this is a business call, Frankie?"

  "I'm sure," Hernandez said.

  "Well, just so long as you're sure. Was there any word on Miranda back at the squad?"

  "Not when I left, no."

  "You know," Luis said thoughtfully, "I think maybe Frankie's right. I don't mean to tell you how to do your job, Andy. Don't think that. But this boy could be hurt by such treatment. What I mean ... well ... on the island, it was not this way."

  "Juvenile gangs ain't a problem in Puerto Rico," Parker said flatly.

  "No, of course not, but that's not what I meant. There just seemed to be ... I don't know ... more respect there."

  "For what? For siestas?" Parker asked, and he burst out laughing.

  "Well, now you're making it a joke," Luis said, embarrassed.

  "Me? Why should I joke about your homeland?"

  "It was just... you know... we were poor and hungry, true. But there was always the plaza in the center of town, and the pink church, and the poinsettias, and the mango trees. And you could go to the plaza and talk to your friends. And you were a person, and people knew your name. It was important, Andy. You knew who you were."

  "Who- were you, Luis?" Parker said, chuckling. "The governor?"

  "Ah, he makes it a joke," Luis said good-naturedly. "You know what I mean, don't you, Frankie?"

  "Yes. I know what you mean."

  "Sometimes here, you feel lost. And without identity, there can be no dignity, no respect."

  "I know just what you mean, Louise," Jeff said. "It's like what I was telling you about Fletcher. How you can just get swallowed up in a pile of people and forget who and what you are."

  "Si, st. The island had respect for people, and for life ... and respect for death, too. Life is cheap here, and death is cheaper. On the island..." He paused, as if giving himself time for the memory to grow, to blossom in his mind. "On the island," he said, "in the towns, when there is a funeral, the casket bearers walk in the center of the main street, and the mourners follow behind the casket."

  "I know this," Hernandez said softly. "My father used to talk about this."

  "About the little girls dressed in white, carrying their flowers in the sunshine?" Luis said. "The town all dusty and quiet and still."

  "Yes," Hernandez said. "About that."

  "And the shopkeepers stand in their doorways, and when the casket goes by, they close the doors. They are showing respect for the dead man. They are saying, 'I will not conduct business while you pass by, my friend.'"

  "Argh, bullshit," Parker said. "That ain't respect. They're just scared of death. I'll tell you something, Luis. I don't know what it's like on that island of yours, but here — right here — the only ones who get respect are the live ones — the hoodlums like Pepe Miranda."

  Luis shook his head quickly and emphatically. "No," he said.

  "No, huh? Take my word for it."

  "I'm going," Hernandez said. "You argue it out between you."

  "Who's arguing?" Parker said. "We're having a discussion."

  "Okay, so discuss it," Hernandez said, and he walked out of the luncheonette and around the corner.

  Jeff swung around on his stool and stared up the street. Behind him, he could hear the detective and Luis arguing — well, discussing — but he was not interested in what they were saying. He kept staring at the closed door of La Gallina, wondering when the bar would open. He really didn't know whether he actually felt like spending the day in bed with a woman or not, but he couldn't think of much else to do with his time. And he had come all the way uptown, and he hated to think of the trip as a total loss. So he kept staring at the closed door, almost willing it to open and — quite miraculously — it opened.

  6

  T
he girl who stepped out of the bar was no more than nineteen years old, a slender girl with the curved body of a woman thrusting against the sweater and skirt she wore. Her hair was black, and her eyes were dark. She took a key from her purse and was leaning over to lock the door when Jeff got off his stool and ran up the street.

  "Hi," he said.

  The girl whirled, surprised. Her eyes opened wide, the brownest eyes Jeff had ever seen in his entire life.

  "Oh!" she said, and her lips rounded over the single word, and slowly the shock gave way to puzzlement, and she stared at him curiously, waiting for him to speak.

  "I've been waiting for you all morning," Jeff said. "Were you in there all along?"

  "Yes?" she said, delivering the word as a question, as if she expected further explanation from him and was waiting for it. He continued to watch her. A slow realization was coming to him. He was beginning to recognize the fact that this was possibly the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, and her beauty left him somewhat tongue-tied. The girl waited. Jeff remained speechless. Finally, she tucked the key into her purse, gave a small feminine shrug, and began walking away. Jeff stepped around her quickly, directly into her path.

  "Hey, where you going?" he said.

  "Home."

  "Why? I only just found you."

  "I have to get dressed," the girl said.

  "You look dressed fine to me," he said, and his eyes traveled the length of her body, pausing on the soft swell of her breasts beneath the light-blue sweater, the abrupt curve of her hips against the black skirt.

  "I have to get dressed," the girl repeated blankly, seemingly embarrassed by his scrutiny.

  "Well, that can wait, can't it?" he asked.

  The girl seemed very puzzled. "What do you want?" she said.

  "Well ... uh ... don't you know?"

  "No?" the girl said, and again she raised her voice at the end of the word so that it sounded like a question.

  "Well ... I was talking to a fellow last night. It was really very early this morning. Downtown. In a bar."

  "Yes?"'

  "And he said I should come up here."

  "What for?"

  "He said I'd find you here," Jeff said.

  He looked at her, and he thought, Well, he didn't exactly say I would find you here, because no one ever expects to find something like you, no one ever really expects to come across something like you ever in his life.

  "He didn't say that," the girl said.

  "Yes. Yes, he did."

  "What was his name? The man who told you about me?"

  "I don't remember," Jeff paused. "I was drunk."

  "Are you drunk now?"

  He smiled tentatively. "Sober as a judge."

  "And this fellow told you about me? He said you would find me?'

  "Well ... not exactly. I mean, I didn't expect anyone as ... as pretty as you. But he said—"

  "What did he say, exactly?"

  "He said I should go uptown..."

  "Yes?"

  "And I should look for a place called La Gallina."

  "La Ga— oh." She paused and looked at him more closely. "I see. Yes. Now I understand."

  "Good. I got to admit, you're really something. I mean a guy just doesn't expect ... I mean, I'm not trying to say anything against what you do, or anything like that ... but ... well, you know, it's just unusual, that's all. To find one as pretty as you."

  "Thank you," the girl said. She smiled. "I think you've made a mistake."

  "This is La Gallina, isn't it?" Jeff asked, looking at the gilt lettering on the plate-glass windows again.

  "Oh, yes. This is La Gallina."

  "And you did come out of there, didn't you?"

  "Yes, I certainly did."

  There was a strange twinkle in her brown eyes. He looked at her suspiciously and realized she was trying to suppress a laugh.

  "You do work in there?" he asked. "Don't you?"

  "I do."

  "Well, what's so funny?" he said, beginning to get slightly annoyed.

  The girl would not allow the laugh to escape her mouth. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing." — "Well, then, all right," he said.

  "All right," she answered.

  They stood staring at each other, Jeff trying to figure out what was so goddamned funny, and the girl trying her best not to laugh.

  "Well?" he said at last.

  "Well what?"

  "Well, let's go to bed."

  "You and me?"

  "Well, sure, you and me. Who did you think I meant?"

  The girl shook her head. "No. I don't think so."

  She started to move away from him, and he caught her arm, stopping her.

  "Why not?"

  "Well..." Again, she held back a laugh. She thought for a moment, and then said, "I guess I don't like sailors."

  "That's no attitude," Jeff said, grinning. "Some of my best friends are sailors."

  "No," the girl said, shaking her head. "No. Sorry. No sailors." She saw the disappointment on his face and quickly added, "Besides, I'm too high."

  "High?"

  "Yes, my price. My ... uh ... my fee?" She made it sound as if she were asking him what the correct word should be.

  "Well, how high is high?" Jeff asked, beginning to bargain.'

  "A lot." The girl considered the question gravely. "More than you earn in a week."

  "How much is that?"

  "Very, very high," she said.

  "Well, how much? Can't you tell me? Boy, you sure act strange for a..."

  "I told you," the girl said. "Very very very high." She seemed at a loss for words. She struggled with her thoughts and then desperately said, "What's the highest you ever paid?"

  "Twenty. But that was on the Coast. On the Coast..."

  "I'm much higher than that," she said quickly, seemingly relieved.

  "Forty?"

  "Higher."

  "A hundred?" he asked, appalled.

  "Goodness," the girl said, her eyes twinkling again. "Do I look like a common streetwalker?"

  "Well, no, no," he said hastily, "you don't. But a hundred dollars, God, I..."

  "I didn't say a hundred. I said higher."

  "I haven't even got twenty," he said despondently. "You see, I was in a poker game and..."

  "Well, there are other girls," she said curtly. "Goodbye."

  She turned on her heel and began walking up the street. Jeff watched her and then, galvanized into sudden action, he yelled, "Hey! Wait!" and ran after her.

  "What is it?" she said.

  "Listen, can't we talk this over?"

  "Why?"

  "Well, I ... I think you're pretty."

  "Thank you."

  "I mean it. I'm not just saying it so you'll..." He paused. "I mean it."

  "Why don't you go home, sailor?" she said kindly, her face suddenly turning so tender that he wanted to kiss her right then and there in the street, even though you weren't supposed to kiss girls like this, still he wanted—

  "Home?" he said. "Hell, I live in Colorado. Listen, can't we talk this over?"

  "Sailor—"

  "Jeff."

  "Jeff, all right, Jeff, I'm not what you think. I'm not what the fellow sent you uptown for."

  "Huh?"

  "I cook for La Gallina and some of the other bars. They have steam tables. I prepare the food for them."

  "You pre— oh." He paused. "So you were in there..."

  "Getting things ready for when they open," the girl said, nodding.

  "Oh." He paused again. "And all that business about price..."

  "I was fooling you."

  "Oh. Well, I'm sorry."

  "That's all right. I'm sorry I fooled you."

  "Oh, that's all right." He studied her soberly. "You're still very pretty."

  "Thank you."

  "Do you ... do you have to run off?"

  "I have to get dressed. I'm going to church."

  "I'll go with you," he said quickly.

  "Are you Catholic?" />
  "Presbyterian. I'll go with you anyway. I've gone to all kinds of religious services in the Navy. I'm something of an expert. You see, I do it to get out of work parties. Whenever I'm on a work party and they announce like, 'All people of the Jewish faith, prepare to leave the ship for religious services,' I all of a sudden become a person of the Jewish faith. I'm just sorry there aren't less work parties and more religions."

  The girl shook her head. "I would feel funny."

  "Are you religious? Is that it?"

  "I suppose so. Yes."

  "Well, I mean, the church won't fall down or anything if I walk into it. Believe me. I've been inside Catholic churches before. It's a nice service." He nodded, thinking over the various services he had been to.

  "I would still feel funny," the girl said. She looked at him in indecision, and then made a slight movement of departure.

  "Look," he said. "Look ... don't run off."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know."

  "You'll be busy," she said. "La Gallina opens at noon."

  "Well, that ... you know, it's not that important."

  "Isn't it?"

  "No, it isn't," he said firmly. "Look, won't you ... won't you stay with me?"

  The girl looked at her watch. "I have to go," she said. "I want to catch the eleven o'clock Mass."

  "Will you meet me after church?"

  "Why should I?"

  "I want you to. Don't you want to?"

  The girl hesitated. Then she said, "Yes, I do."

  "Then why don't you?"

  "Are you on a ship?"

  "Yes. Look, will you..."

  "What kind?"

  "A destroyer."

  "Is it big?"

  "Pretty big. Will you meet me?"

  "Why do you want to meet me? Haven't you got a girl back home?"

  "I used to, but not any more. Have ... have you got a ... a boy?"

  "No."

  "Good. That's good." He smiled.

  "Yes," she said, and she returned the smile.

  "Will you ... will you meet me?"

  "If I do ... would we go someplace outside the neighborhood?"

  "If you like."

  "Where will we go?"

  "I don't know. I don't know this city too well."

  "But we will leave the neighborhood?"