Free Ed McBain_87th Precinct 47 by Romance Page A

midnight no less, for a cup of coffee. Just so we could talk awhile. I thought that was very cute.
     And you were
so
persistent, oh my! I thought about that phone call all the while I was driving in to St. Sab’s. I began thinking This is
     fate, this cop getting shot, my having to drive into the city. It wasn’t meant that we should leave it where we left it last
     night. I shouldn’t have been so
rejecting
on the phone, I shouldn’t have
dissed
him that way. What did the poor guy say, for God’s sake? He said he liked the color of my suit. Which, by the way, is a terrific
     color for my color …”
    “It is.”
    “Sure, so what was I getting so upset about? A man paying me a compliment? I kept thinking all this while I drove in, and
     then I put it out of my mind when I got to the hospital because the only thing I wanted to do then was find the person in
     charge and let him know a police department representative was here now and that the cop in there better get the best medical
     treatment in the world or there’d be holy hell to pay.”
    “Is he all right now?”
    “Yes, he’s all right. Shot twice in the leg. He’s all right.”
    “I hate cops getting shot.”
    “Tell me about it,” Sharyn said, and nodded grimly. “Anyway, I didn’t think about it again, about
you
again, about your calling and being so
persistent
on the phone, until the cop was safely on his way to Buenavista, where he won’t scream in the middle of the night, thank
     God, and no one’ll come. I was going out to my car, figuring I’d drive back out to C.P., when all at once I thought again
     of
you
saying you were willing to drive out there after you’d put in eight hours, just to have a cup of coffee and talk. And I thought
     about the cop getting shot and bringing me into the city, and I said to myself Listen, who’s being the stupid one here, you
     or him?”
    “Who was it?”
    “Anyway, I was starving to death.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “And I hate to eat alone.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “So I called you.”
    “And here we are,” he said.
    “Alone at last,” she said.
    Alone with him in bed that night, she told him how frightened she’d been. How frightened she still was.
    “No, no,” he said, “don’t worry.”
    Soothing her. Stroking her thighs, kissing her nipples and breasts, kissing her lips.
    “Everything happened so fast,” she said.
    “No, no.”
    “Someone’s bound to realize …”
    “How could they?”
    “People aren’t stupid, you know.”
    “Yes, but how could … ?”
    “Suppose someone saw us tonight?”
    “But no one did.”
    “You don’t know that for a fact.”
    “Did
you
see anyone?”
    “No, but …”
    “Neither did I. No one saw us. Don’t worry.”
    Kissing her again. Gently. Her lips, her breasts. His hand under the gossamer gown, stroking her, touching her.
    “Everything’s happening so fast,” she whispered.
    “It’s supposed to.”
    “They’ll ask …”
    “Sure.”
    “Me. You. They’ll ask.”
    “And we’ll tell them. Everything
but.“
    “They’re not stupid.”
    “We’re smarter.”
    “They’ll realize.”
    ““No.”
    “Hold me, Johnny, I’m so scared.”
    “No, baby, no, Michelle, don’t worry.”

4
    T HE TWO BLUES SEARCHING THE ALLEY WERE COMPLAINING that nobody in this city would’ve gave flying fuck about a stabbing if the victim hadn’ta been a celebrity.
    “Also,” one of them said, “the only perp tosses a weapon is the pros. They use a cold piece, they throw it down a sewer afterwards,
     we find it, we can shove it up our ass. A person ain’t a contract hitter, he don’t throw away no weapon. Even a
knife
costs money, what d’you think? A person’s gonna throw it away cause he just
juked
somebody with it? Don’t be ridiculous. There’s switchblades cost fifty, a hundred bucks, some of them. He’s gonna throw it
     away cause it’s got a little blood on it? Gimme a break, willya?”
    “Who’s the vic, anyway,” the other one asked,