"Yes, but what… what did you say?" She studied his face. She was certain she had heard him correctly, and yet his words hadn't seemed to make any sense.
"For what he done to you," Cooch said.
"What do you mean?"
"You know."
"No. I don't know."
He had taken a step closer to her, and she had backed away from him slightly. Blocking her path to the steps, he moved closer now, so that she was forced to take another step backward, almost into the darkened hallway of the building.
"You know what he done, China," Cooch said.
She looked at his face. His face looked very strange. He was a very young boy with a ridiculously silly mustache over his upper lip, and she had always thought… but now he… he… looked different somehow.
"I have a gun," he said suddenly.
"A gun, China."
"What… what…" She was forced to back away from him again, into the hallway this time. He stood silhouetted in the doorway of the building, the bright sunshine behind him. His hand moved. For a moment, she didn't know what he was doing. And then she saw the dull glint of metal.
"It's a Luger," Cooch said.
"Wh-what are you going to do with that, Cooch?"
"Kill Alfie," he answered.
"Kill…? Why? What for?"
"For what he done to you?"
"He didn't do anything to me!" China said.
"You know what he done, China." He held the gun up close to her face. "You know what he done."
She was truly frightened now. She did not want to retreat further into the hallway, but he kept moving closer and closer to her, and there was no place to go but back. For a crazy moment, she wanted to turn and run up the steps to her apartment. And then it was too late. He had stepped between her and the steps and was moving toward her again so that, in backing away from him, she stumbled toward the garbage cans stacked under the steps on the ground floor.
"Cooch, I… I have to go," she said. "I don't know what you're talking about. Alfie didn't do anything to me. If you're angry at him because you think…"
She felt his fingers tighten on her breast, and she screamed, pulling away from him. His fingers clung. She thought her blouse would tear. Blindly, she brought up the shopping bag, swinging it at him, screaming, and then shoving her way past him into the bright sunlight again, rushing down the steps, still screaming, into the crowd.
A man selling ices entered the street at the opposite end.
Zip, standing on the crate, turned to watch the man who pushed through the crowd with his cart. "Hey, you want some ices?" he asked Elena.
"You got any loot?"
"Sure," Zip answered. "What flavor you want?"
"Lemon," Elena said.
"I'll have a lemon, too," Juana said.
"Oh, now she knows me," Zip said, leaping down from the crate. "Now it's buying time, she knows me. Okay. I'm the last of the red-hot spenders. Everybody gets ices!"
From the crate, Papa said, "Me, too, Zeep?"
"You, too, Papa! Everybody! Everybody gets
He went over to the cart and placed his order. He seemed happy as hell. He paid no attention at all to the detectives who stood not six feet from him.
"Where are your men, Andy?" Byrnes asked.
"Coming, sir."
Byrnes turned to Hemandez who stood staring up at the first floor of the tenement. "You scared, Frankie?"
"A little," Hernandez answered.
"I don't blame you." He paused. "This is the damnedest thing ever, isn't it? The last one I remember like this was back in 1931 when this guy Nelson O'Brien was holed up in an apartment on the North Side. I was a patrolman at the time. He held off a hundred and fifty cops for two hours that day. We were chopping holes in the roof and dropping tear gas down on him, but the bastard wouldn't give up. We wounded him three times, but he was still standing when we went into the apartment to collar him. Standing and cursing - but out of amo. He'd hidden both his guns in his socks, hoping to use them later for an escape. A real prize, he was."
Byrnes paused and stared at Hernandez. "I didn't feel so hot that day, Frankie."
"Why not?"
"They guy in the apartment was Nelson O'Brien." He paused again. "I'm Irish."
"Yes, sir," Hernandez said.
"But I'll tell you something, Frankie. The guys like Nelson O'Brien don't stop me from marching in the St. Paddy's day parade every year. You understand me?"
"I understand you."
"Good." Byrnes hesitated. "Take care of yourself on that goddamn fire escape," he said. "I wouldn't want to lose a good cop."
"Yes, sir," Hernandez said.
Byrnes extended his hand. "Good luck, Frankie."
"Thank you." Byrnes turned to walk back to the squad car. "Pete?" Hernandez called. Byrnes faced him. "Thank you," Hernandez said again.
