The sailor's name was Jeff Talbot, and the rosy glow of the alcohol was beginning to wear off, and as he surveyed the street outside the luncheonette, he wondered how he could ever have said it looked like a nice neighborhood. Somehow, even the sunlight did not help the look of the street outside. It helped only in the way a powerful spotlight helps to illuminate a garbage dump. He blinked at the sunshine, and he blinked at the street outside, and he suddenly said, "I'm sober," and just as suddenly realized that he was. "Good," Luis said. "How does the world look?" "Miserable." He swung his stool back toward the counter. "I'm getting a headache. This is a pretty rotten neighborhood, ain't it?"
"It depends how you look at it," Zip said. "I happen to like it."
"You do?"
"It's where I live. When I'm here, that sidewalk sings." "What does it sing?" Jeff asked. His head was beginning to pound. He wondered why he was talking with a stranger, wondered why he'd drunk so much the night before.
"With him," Luis said, "it sings Rock and Roll."
"The old man is very hip, sailor. He knows all the proper…"
Zip stopped talking. He tensed suddenly on the stool, his eyes fastened to the street outside.
"What's the matter?" Jeff asked.
"The Law," Zip said quietly.
The Law to which he had referred was the law as personified by Detective Andy Parker who walked up the street with a sort of slumped, indifferent swagger, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, looking for all the world like a penniless bum who had just come from sleeping one off in a doorway. His bright Hawaiian shirt was rumpled and soiled with coffee stains. He scratched his chest indolently, his eyes flicking the street as he walked.
"The only law I got to worry about is the Shore Patrol," Jeff said, dismissing him. He shoved his empty cup across the counter. "Can I get another cup of joe?" He grinned and then winced in pain. "Oh, man, but that head hurts when I smile."
Outside the luncheonette, Andy Parker waved at Luis and said,
"Hello, Andy," Luis said, smiling. "Some coffee?"
"I can use a cup," Parker answered. "Hot." He walked into the luncheonette and took the stool next to Jeffs. He studied Zip for a moment and then asked, "When did you start catering to the punk trade, Luis?"
"I'm having a cup of coffee," Zip answered. "Anything wrong with that, Lieutenant?"
"I ain't a lieutenant, and don't get smart."
"I thought you'd at least be a captain by now. After all the drunks you pulled in from Grover Park."
"Look, kid…"
"This is Detective Andy Parker, sailor," Zip said. "He's what is known as a tough cop. Fearless. For two cents, he'd arrest his own grandmother." He grinned almost immediately, and Jeff recognized the pattern suddenly. It was as if someone had advised the boy that a grin would take him a long way, especially a grin composed of such sparkling white teeth, a grin that never failed to generate a warm response in its recipient. Even Parker, faced with the sudden dazzling brilliance of the grin, smiled.
"For two cents," he answered, "I'd kick your ass all over the sidewalk." But there was no menace in his words. The threat, disarmed by the grin, was a hollow one.
"See?" Zip said, still grinning. "I'll bet he can lick any sixteen-year-old kid on the block."
"Go ahead," Parker said, "push me another inch, kid." But again the threat was not real, the smile had stolen all its power. He turned his attention to the sailor, studied him for a moment and then said, "What are you doing around here, sailor?"
"Same thing as the kid here," Jeff answered. "Having a cup of coffee."
"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
Parker took the cup. "You know how many sailors get rolled up here?" he persisted.
"How many?" Jeff asked.
