BOILER

Chapter 23

A man in leopard-print spandex and fur dragged a suitcase into the street. He waved and shouted at a row of parked cabs, and Pott watched him climb into the back of one as he picked up a paper from a newsstand.

'How's the day been?' Pott said to the vendor.

'Been going all right, pal.'

The wind was blowing up the street and dragging cans and paper cups with it. An old man fell over. People rushed to pick him up. Pott read his paper.

'Why doesn't he use a stick?' the vendor asked, watching the crowd.

Pott looked back at the old man being helped to his feet. 'He thinks he doesn't need one,' he said.

'But out in this wind?'

'Maybe he's an idiot. Maybe he wants to fall. I doubt he gets that much attention in his day to day.'

'Well then, he is a damned fool. Did you hear about all that business on Mill Street?'

'Not yet. What business?'

'You didn't hear?'

'I didn't hear a thing.'

'Christ, man. You live in a cave or something?'

Pott folded the paper under his arm. 'What are they saying about it?'

The vendor stopped as the old man almost went over again. 'Well, they said there was a big shoot out. The law ran across some bad sons of bitches. The radio was saying four or five were dead from it.'

'Really?' Pott asked with a smile.

'That's what the radio said.'

'Terrible. It's awful what people will do, isn't it?'

'Yeah.'

'Must have been desperate.'

'If they weren't then, they are now.'

'I'll bet. You wouldn't happen to have any cord, would you?'

'I might,' the vendor said, looking around his box. 'How much length do you need?'

'A few feet would be plenty.'

'Let me have a look.'

The vendor ducked from view and began pushing things about. The old man had been let go of and fallen again.

The vendor was back up and holding out a length of cord. 'Will this do for you?'

'That'll be fine. Do you want something for it?'

'No, it would just be another bit of crap making the place untidy. What do you think they would do now?'

'You mean the killers?'

'Yeah. You know the city will come after them hard.'

Pott went po-faced. 'Why would you ask me that?'

The man was taken aback by the sudden hardness. He fidgeted. 'I, well, I was just making conversation. It doesn't matter, does it?'

Pott made a half turn and looked him up and down. 'I think I'd kill anyone who knew I was there, and I'd kill any man who put me there. You have a good day.'

***

Pott dropped his paper in a trash can and wiped his hands with a handkerchief. Down the road was a round, pink building called the Twist. There was a big banner outside with a woman on it in nothing but whipped cream and a smile.