Free The Blue Helmet by William Bell Page A

earlier, Reena had called up to my room, where I was sprawled on the bed reading
A Farewell to Arms
. I still hadn’t put enough money aside for my TV . “Wanna come down and lose some of that extra money you’ve been making?” she hollered. “There’s nothing on TV andI’m out of magazines.”
    So we sat at the kitchen table under the fan, with the window open wide to catch whatever stray breeze wandered down 18th Street. A few wilted fries sat on a plate beside a beach of salt. Reena dealt a new hand.
    I picked up my three cards, arranged them, and banged the table, making the pennies jump.
    “You’re knocking already?”
    “Yup.”
    “Kids nowadays,” she said.
    She drew a card from the deck, squinted at it, and tossed it down with disgust. “I got eighteen.”
    “Too bad. Thirty for me.”
    I collected the pot—all ten pennies of it. The loser of the match had to spring for a take-out pizza. From upstairs came a chirping sound.
    “What’s that?” Reena asked.
    “I changed the ring tone on my cell,” I replied. “It’s supposed to sound like a tree frog.”
    “A tree frog. Which has what to do with telephones?”
    I got up from my chair. “I’ll let you know when I’ve answered it.”
    I climbed the stairs quickly, wondering who would call at ten o’clock at night. I hoped it was Cutter. I still hadn’t heard from him.
    “Lee? It’s Abe.”
    Abe Krantz didn’t sound like his usual merry self. His voice was low and cautious. It wasn’t about the weather this time.
    “Hi, Abe. What’s up?”
    “Um, this pal of yours, Bruce. Does he live on 13th?”
    “Yeah.” Why was Abe calling about Cutter? As far as I knew, they’d never met.
    Abe mentioned the house number. “Yup, that’s him,” I said. “What’s this—?”
    “I don’t want to alarm you, Lee. But I just picked something up on the scanner. You might want to get over there.”
    “I’m on my way.”
    “Take the cell with you. I’ll be here.”
    I skidded to a stop across the road from Cutter’s house and let the tank fall against a hedge. A cluster of cop cars along with an ambulance clogged the street, their roof lights blipping across the fronts of the buildings. Radios squawked. Cops milled around. One uniform pushed back the small crowd that had formed, another was unrolling yellow Do-Not-Cross tape to form a perimeter around the front yard and driveway. Cutter’s front door was open and I could see flashlight beams jumping aroundinside. I pushed through the onlookers and ducked under the tape.
    “Hey!” A uniform rushed forward and put her hand on my chest. “Get back on the other side of the tape.”
    “My friend lives here,” I said. “I’ve got to—”
    “Do as I say! Now!” she said, shoving me back.
    I knocked her arm aside, felt the buzz of adrenaline. “I told you—”
    My phone chirped. “Lee? Abe. Are you there, yet?”
    “They won’t let me across the line,” I said.
    “Calm down. Tell me what’s happening.”
    “I don’t know!” I shouted. “It’s a madhouse! There’s cops and—”
    Abe’s voice became very harsh and firm. “Tell me what you see.”
    I described what was going on, which as far as I could tell was nothing but noise and confusion.
    “They haven’t come out of the house yet?”
    “No.”
    “Now, listen. The cops have to follow procedure. They won’t let anyone past the tape, except maybe a relative. Ask one of the uniforms who’s in charge. See if you can get whoever that is to talk with you. Got it?”
    “Yeah, but—”
    “Take a deep breath and repeat what I just told you.”
    I went over Abe’s instructions. Talking to him calmed me down a bit. I waited, straining to see into the house. Why didn’t they turn on the lights? What were the cops doing in Cutter’s house, and where was he? When Cutter found out the authorities were in his office, he’d go right over the edge.
    Unless, I thought with a terrible sinking in my gut, he’s already gone over the