emb.seethemdie-第13节
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her kick caught the side of his neck； and now the kicks were ing with methodical precision and his foot was still hooked into that goddamn rung； a boot connected with his right eye and he felt shocking； stabbing pain and then the warmth of blood and he thought I'm going to be kicked to death on the floor of this goddamn luncheonette and then he heard Luis shouting； 〃What are you doing？ Bastards； what are you doing？〃 And above that； or beyond it； around it； circling it； filling the air； the high penetrating wail of a police siren。
8
Hernandez had seen this apartment before； had been inside it。 Not this one； exactly； but countless others like it in buildings of the precinct This could have been the very apartment he had lived in as a boy。
The front door opened into the kitchen。 There was the usual police lock； the first plate screwed to the door； the second plate embedded in the floor； and the unbending steel bar which； when wedged into its triangular place between the two； made forcible entry impossible。 A window was at the far end of the kitchen。 It opened on the interior shaftway of the tenement。 There was linoleum on the kitchen floor； a spatter pattern。 It had been scrubbed clean but left unwaxed。 It had worn through in patches near the door； the icebox； and the stove。 A white enamel…topped table was on the wall opposite the stove。 A picture of Jesus in supplication was above the table。 The walls were painted a pale green； but the grime of countless meals in preparation had worn itself into the walls so that the green seemed darker； bile…like。 The paint； too； was beginning to flake off in several places on the walls and on the ceiling。 A toaster was on the table。 A plastic shield covered it。 The room seemed shoddy but clean。 It was a room he remembered well。
On winter days； when he was a boy； he would sit on the floor by the stove； playing with his soldiers on the clean worn linoleum。 His mother had miraculously managed to cook her meals with him underfoot。 The smells of arroz con potto would fill the kitchen； and it was cozy by the stove where he endowed each of his metal men with a personality and an identity。 There was warmth in the kitchen of the Hernandez home； warmth from the stove and the smell of cooking food； warmth in the gentle voice of his mother as she went about her work； warmth in the monologues the boy Frankie addressed to the metal men surrounding him。
There was no warmth in the Gomez kitchen on that day in July； no warmth but the suffocating heat of summer。 Outside； they could hear the wail of the siren。 Mrs。 Gomez went to the window and closed it。 The sound withdrew。
〃Always fires；〃 she said。 〃Always the sirens。 Never a day without a fire。〃 She shook her head。 〃And it's worse in the winter。〃
〃Where's the boy？〃 Hernandez asked。
〃In the bedroom。 Frankie； please go easy with him。 This thing he is in； it is great trouble。 But。。。 he is hard to know。〃
〃I'll go easy；〃 Hernandez said。
She led him through the apartment； into the 〃parlor〃 furnished with a three…piece living…room suite； a television set； a floor lamp； the fixture in the ceiling boasting three light bulbs of different colors。 When he was a boy； he had done his homework in the parlor； stretched out on the floor。 There had been no television in those days。 In those days； the 〃William Tell Overture〃 had announced the arrival of the Lone Ranger。 In those days； there was Omar the Mystic； and The Witch's Tale； and Renfrew of the Mounted； and； of course； on Sundays … the Shadow。 He had grown up with the idea that Lament Cranston was the most glorious name in the entire world。 He now laughed whenever anyone mentioned it and yet； despite his sophisticated laughter； the name still touched a core of envy and awe somewhere deep within him。 Lamont Cranston … the Shadow。 Memories of a boy； the howl of a wolf and then the words； 〃Rennnnnnn…frew offfffff the Mounnnnnnn…ted；〃 Dick Tracy every afternoon at … five was it？ … five…fifteen？ … milk on the kitchen table and chocolate…covered graham crackers； the memories of a boy。 And now； the same living…room； called a 〃parlor〃 as it was in Puerto Rico； the same colored lights in the ceiling fixture； the same peeling paint； the same long tred through a railroad flat； a man entering a bedroom which could have been the twin of the one he'd slept in as a boy； and a man ing face to face with a boy of sixteen； and seeing in that face pain and trouble； trouble in the eyes and the mouth； and Hernandez the man suddenly wondering where Hernandez the boy had gone。 And wondering what had been lost somewhere along the way。
〃This is Frankie Hernandez；〃 Mrs。 Gomez said。
The boy regarded him without hostility。 But there was determination in his eyes； a stubborn mittment to reveal nothing。 Hernandez had seen this look before。 He had seen it in the squadroom and it had been worn by hardened criminals and by docile housewives； it was the same look； it never varied。 It was a look which plainly stated； 〃You are the Law； and anything I tell you will be held against me。〃
〃Hello； Alfredo；〃 Hernandez said。
〃Hello；〃 the boy answered warily。
〃Your mother's worried about you。〃
〃She hass nothin' to worry abou'。〃
〃Well； she seemed to think so。 Came all the way over to the police station because she thought so。 What about it； Alfredo？〃
Alfredo sighed deeply。 〃I'm goin' to church； Mr Hernandez；〃 he said。 〃I got nothin' to tell you。〃
〃Your mother thinks you've got plenty to tell me。〃
〃My mother doesn't know。 She don' know this neighborhood。〃
〃I know this neighborhood； Alfredo；〃 Hernandez said flatly； and their eyes met； and in the boy's eyes was a recalculation now； a quick estimate of Hemandez's knowledge of the streets； an appraisal of the extent to which he was a neighborhood boy； and the extent to which he was a cop like all the rest。 〃Now what's all this about？〃 Hernandez asked。
Alfredo made his decision in a single moment。 The decision changed nothing。 Hernandez could not help him； Hernandez was the law； there was nothing he could tell him。 〃It ain't abou' nothin'；〃 he said。
〃Your mother said somebody's going to kill you； is that right？〃
Alfredo did not answer。
〃Answer me！〃 Hernandez said； and he seized the boy by the shoulders and forced the contact； forced eyes to meet eyes levelly and honestly。 〃Answer me！〃
Alfredo remained mute； his eyes probing Hemandez's。 And then he nodded。
〃Who？〃 Hernandez asked。
〃The 。。。 the boys；〃 Alfredo answered。 His shoulders ached where Hernandez gripped him。 His eyes remained locked with the detective's。
〃Why？〃
〃No reason；〃 Alfredo said。
〃Is there a girl involved in this？〃
〃Si。〃
Hernandez released his grip tiredly。 This was an old story； and he had heard it many times before。 〃What'd you do to the girl？〃 he asked。
〃Nothin'。〃
〃e on。〃
〃Nothin'。〃
The room went silent again。 Hernandez stared at the boy。 Patiently； he asked； 〃Then why do they want to kill you？〃
〃To show they big shots； thass all；〃 Alfredo said。 〃They tink iss big to kill。〃 He paused。 He was talking more freely now； but he still wondered how far he could trust Hernandez。 In a very low voice； he said； 〃She am' even his girl。 China ain' nobody's girl。〃
〃You must have done something to the girl！〃 Hernandez said angrily。
〃Nothin'！ I swear！ I swear on my mudder's eyes。 Nothin'！ I ony say hello to her。 She a nice girl； smilin' an' everything； she smile at everybody。 So I say hello。 Iss somethin' wrong with dat？ On the islan'； you could say hello to girls； nobody bodder you。 So now I am e here the city； an' now I cann say hello。〃
〃How long have you been in this city？〃 Hernandez asked。
The boy shrugged and turned to his mother。 〃Mama？〃
〃He's a year now；〃 she said。 〃We took the girl over first。 His sister。 Alfredo we left with his grandmother in San Juan。 A year ago； we could afford to bring him here； too。〃
〃Where's the girl now？ Your daughter？〃
〃She 。belongs to the Girl Scouts。 Today； they went on a picnic。 Honeyside Beach； you know that？〃
〃Yes；〃 Hernandez said。 〃You like this city； Alfredo？〃
〃Sure。 I e from La Perla； thass where my gran'mudder lives。 La Perla； thass a big fanguito in San Juan。 A slom； you know？ Shacks。〃
〃I know La Perla。〃
〃It means The Pearl； but thass jus' a joke； you know？ It's not sush a pearl。 Here iss better。 Not so poor； you know？ There； it iss all dirty an' mud； an' iss poor all the time。 Here iss better。〃 He paused。 〃But what can you do here？〃
〃You can do a lot here； Alfredo。〃
〃Yeah？ You go outside the neighborhood； they call you 'spic。' It's my fault I cann speak English so good？ How I'm spose to learn？ There's only one teacher in all my high school who speaks Spanish！〃
〃Others have learned English； Alfredo。〃
〃Sure； I know。 I'm tryin'； ain' I？ I do pretty good； don't I？〃
〃You do fine。〃
〃Still。。。〃
〃Still what？〃
〃Am I 。。。 am I spose to join a gang or somethin'？〃
〃Do you belong to a gang now； Alfredo？〃
〃No； I don' belong no gang。 In Puerto Rico； we don' have this bullshit； these gangs like here。 In Puerto Rico； you can say hello to girls； you can hang aroun' like whoever you want； you know？ An' there's none of these dope。 The kids here take dope。 So I don' wann t
