I'm dying to make your acquaintance, Gonzo. I've heard so much about you that I feel I actually know you, and really, hasn't our meeting been postponed for just an unbearably long time? Come on, Gonzo. I am beginning to resemble the brass monkeys, Gonzo. I'd like very much to go inside and look at the lions-how come they're so quiet now? Feeding time already-and toast myself by their cages rather than stand out here where even my red socks are turning blue from the cold. So how about it, Gonzo? Give a flatfoot a break, will you? Give a poor honest cop a dime for a cup of coffee, willya? Oh brother, would I love a hot cup of coffee right this minute, mmmmm.
I'll bet you're having a cup of coffee in some department-store restaurant right now, Gonzo. I'll bet you don't even know I'm here waiting for you.
Hell, I sure hope you
Carella cracked open another peanut and then glanced casually at a young boy who turned the corner of the lion house. The boy looked at Carella and then walked past. Carella seemingly ignored him, munching happily and idiotically on his peanuts. When the boy was gone, Carella moved to one of the benches and sat, waiting. He glanced at his watch. He cracked open another peanut. He glanced at his watch again.
In three minutes, the boy was back. He was no older than nineteen. He walked with a quick, birdlike tempo. He wore a sports jacket, the collar turned up against the cold, and a pair of shabby gray flannel slacks. His head was bare, and his blond hair danced in the wind. He looked at Carella again, and then went to stand near the outdoor cages of the lion house. Carella seemed interested only in cracking open and eating his peanuts. He barely gave the boy a glance, but the boy was never out of his sight.
The boy was pacing now. He looked at his wrist, and then seemingly remembered he didn't have a watch. He pulled a grimace, glanced up the path, and then began pacing in front of the cages again. Carella went on eating his peanuts.
The boy suddenly stopped pacing, stood undecided for a moment, and then walked over to where Carella was sitting.
"Hey, mister," he said, "you know what time it is?"
"Just a second," Carella answered. He finished cracking a peanut, popped it into his mouth, put the shell onto the little pile he'd formed on the bench, dusted his hands, and then looked at his watch.
"About a quarter to five," he said.
"Thanks," the boy answered. He looked off up the path again. He turned back to Carella and studied him for a minute. "Pretty cold, ain't it?" he said.
"Yeah," Carella answered. "Want a peanut?"
"Huh? Oh, no. Thanks."
"Good," Carella said. "Give you some energy, build body warmth."
"No," the boy answered. "Thanks." He studied Carella again. "Mind if I sit?"
"Public park," Carella said, shrugging.
The boy sat, his hands in his pockets. He watched Carella eating the peanuts. "You come here to feed the pigeons or something?" he asked.
"Me?" Carella said.
"Yeah, you."
Carella turned to face the boy fully. "Who wants to know?" he asked.
"I'm just curious," the boy said, shrugging.
"Listen," Carella said, "if you haven't got any business here near the lion house, go take a walk. You ask too many questions."
The boy considered this for a long time. "Why?" he said at last. "You got business here?"
"My business is my business," Carella said. "Don't get snotty, kid, or you'll be picking up your teeth."
"What're you getting sore about? I was only trying to find out…" He stopped abruptly.
"Don't try to find out anything, kid," Carella said, "You'll do better to keep your mouth shut. If you've got business here, just keep it to yourself, that's all. You never know who's listening."
"Oh," the kid said thoughtfully. "Yeah, I hadn't thought of that." He glanced over both shoulders, first peering to the left, then to the right. "There's nobody around, though," he said.
"That's true," Carella answered.
"So, you know…" The boy hesitated again. Carella pretended to be interested in his peanuts. "Listen, we're here for the same thing, ain't we?"
"Depends on what you're here for," Carella said.
"Come on, mister, you know."
"I'm here to get some air and eat some peanuts," Carella said.
"Yeah, sure."
"What are
"You tell me first," the boy said.
"You're new at this, ain't you?" Carella asked suddenly.
"Huh?"
"Look, kid, my advice to you is don't talk about the junk to anybody, not even me. How do you know I'm not a bull?"
"I never thought of that," the boy said.
"Sure, you never thought of it. So if I was a bull, I could take you right in. Listen, when you've been on it as long as I have, you don't trust nobody."
The boy grinned. "So why you trusting me?" he asked.
"'Cause I can see you're not a bull, and 'cause I can see you're new at the game."
"I could be a bull," the boy countered.
"You're too young. How old are you, eighteen?"
"I'm almost twenty."
"So how could you be a bull?" Carella glanced at his watch. "Damnit, what time was this meet supposed to be, anyway?"
