Lady Killer

'This son of a bitch used a baseball bat on him, sir,' the patrolman said. 'The guy bleeding is a pusher. Desk lieutenant thought there might be a dope angle to this, figured you should question him.'

'I ain't no pusher,' the bleeding man said. 'I want him sent to prison! He hit me with a bat!'

'You'd better get him to a hospital,' Hawes said, looking at the bleeding man.

'No hospital! Not until he's in prison! He hit me with a ball bat! This son of a bitch—'

'Ohhhh,' Mrs Annuci said.

'Come on outside,' Carella said. 'We'll sit on that bench, all right? I'll explain everything that happened with your son.'

Hawes pulled the man with the handcuffs into the room.

'Get in there!' he said. 'Take off the cuffs, Alec,' he said to the patrolman. 'You better get to the hospital, mister,' he said to the bleeding man.

'No hospital!' the man insisted. 'Not until he's booked and sent to jail.'

The patrolman took the cuffs off the other man.

'Get some wet rags for this guy's head,' Hawes said, and the patrolman left. 'What's your name, mister?'

'Mendez,' the bleeder said. 'Raoul Mendez.'

'And you're no pusher, huh, Raoul?'

'I never pushed junk in my life. That's a crock, believe me. This guy just came over—'

Hawes turned to the other man. 'What's your name?'

'—you!' the man said.

Hawes looked at him steadily.

'Empty your pockets on that desk.'

The man did not move.

'I said—'

The man suddenly lunged at Hawes, his fists swinging wildly. Hawes clamped one hand into the man's shirt collar and rammed the other clenched fist into his face. The man staggered back several paces, bunched his fists again, and came at Hawes once more. Hawes chopped a quick right to his gut, and the man doubled over.

'Empty your pockets, punk,' Hawes said tightly.

The man emptied his pockets.

'Now. What's your name?' Hawes asked, as he went through the accumulation that had been in the man's trousers.

'John Begley. You hit me again, you son of a bitch, and I'll—'

'Shut your mouth!' Hawes snapped. Begley shut up instantly.

'Why'd you go at him with a ball bat?'

'That's my business,' Begley said.

'It's mine, too,' Hawes answered.

'He tried to kill me,' Mendez said. 'Assault! First-degree assault! That's Section 240. Assault with intent to kill!'

'I didn't try to kill him,' Begley said. 'If I wanted to kill him, he wouldn't be walking around right now!'

'You're familiar with the Penal Law, huh, Mendez?' Hawes asked.

'I hear guys talking about it in the neighbourhood,' Mendez said. 'Hell, everybody knows Section 240. Assault is common.'

'240's first-degree assault, Begley,' Hawes said. 'You can get ten years for that. 242 is assault in the second degree. No more than five years and a fine, maybe just the fine. Which are you trying for?'

'I didn't try to kill him.'

'Is he a pusher?'

'Ask him.'

'I'm asking you.'

'I'm no stoolie. I don't know what the hell he is. I didn't try to kill him. I just wanted to bust a couple of arms and legs. Legs, especially.'

'Why?'

'He's been chasing my wife.'

'What do you mean?'

'What the hell do you think I mean?'

'How about that, Mendez?'

'He's crazy. I don't even know his wife.'

'You lying son of a bitch!' Begley said, and he started for Mendez.

Hawes shoved him away. 'Cool off, Begley, or I'll knock you on your ass!'

'He knows my wife!' Begley shouted. 'He knows her too goddamn good! I'll get that bastard! If I go to jail, I'll get him when I get out!'

'He's crazy, I told you!' Mendez said. 'Crazy! I was standing on the corner minding my own business, and he came up with the ball bat and started swinging.'

'All right, all right, keep quiet,' Hawes said.

The patrolman came back with the wet cloths.

'We won't need those, Alec,' Hawes said. 'Get this man to a hospital before he bleeds to death right here in the squad-room.'

'Not until he goes to prison!' Mendez shouted. 'I ain't leav—'

'You want to go to prison yourself, Mendez?' Hawes said. 'For resisting an officer?'

'Who's—?'

'Get the hell out of here! Your pusher smell is stinking up the squad-room!'

'I'm no pusher!'

'He's a pusher, sir,' the patrolman said. 'He's been put away twice, already.'

'Get the hell out, Mendez,' Hawes said.

'A pusher? You got me wrong—'

'And if I ever catch you with any junk on you, I'll take a ball bat to you myself! Now clear out! Get him to the hospital, Alec.'

'Come on,' the patrolman said, taking Mendez's arm.

'A pusher,' Mendez mumbled, as they went through the railing. 'Man, a guy takes one fall, right away he's labelled.'

'Two falls,' the patrolman corrected.

'Okay, two, two,' Mendez said, as they went down the steps.

Mrs Annuci swallowed.

'So you see,' Carella said to her, 'all we did was ask some questions. Your son is something of a hero, Mrs Annuci. You can tell that to your neighbours.'

'And have this killer come after him next? No, thank you, no, thank you.'

In the squad-room, Hawes said, 'Were you trying to kill him, Begley?'

'I told you. No. Look—'

'What?'

Begley's voice trailed to a whisper. 'This is only second-degree assault. The guy was making it with my wife. I mean, what the hel1, suppose it was your wife?'

'I'm not married.'

'Okay, but suppose. You going to send me to jail for protecting my home?'

'That's up to the judge,' Hawes said.

Begley's voice went even lower. 'Let's judge it ourselves, huh?'

'What?'

'What'll it cost? Three bills? Half a century?'

'You've got the wrong cop,' Hawes said.

'Come on, come on,' Begley said, smiling.

Hawes picked up the phone and buzzed the desk. Artie Rnowles, the sergeant who'd relieved Murchison at 4.00 p.m., answered.

'Artie, this is Cotton Hawes. You can book this bum. Make it second-degree assault. Send somebody up for him, will you?'

'Right!' Knowles said.

'You kidding?' Begley asked.

'I'm serious,' Hawes said.

'You're turning down five hundred bucks?'

'Are you offering it? We can add that to the charge.'

'Never mind, never mind,' Begley said hastily. 'I ain't offering nothing. Boy!'

He was still 'Boy'-ing when the patrolman led him downstairs, passing Bert Kling in the hallway. Kling was a tall and youthful blond detective. He was wearing a leather jacket and dungarees. His denim shirt under the jacket was stained with sweat.

'Hi,' he said to Hawes. 'What's up?'

'Assault,' Hawes said. 'You finished for the day?'

'Yeah,' Kling said. 'This waterfront plant is for the birds. I'll never learn anything. There isn't a guy on the docks who doesn't know I'm a cop.'

'Have they really tipped to you?'

'I guess not, but nobody's talking about heroin, that's for sure. Why the hell doesn't Pete leave this to the Narcotics Squad?'

'He's trying to get a jump on the precinct pushers. Wants to know where the stuff's coming in. You know how Pete feels about dope.'

'Whose hand is Steve holding, outside?'

'Hysterical mother,' Hawes said, and then he heard Meyer's voice coming up the stairway. Kling took off his jacket.

'Brother, I'm hot,' he said. 'You ever try unloading a ship?'

'Nope,' Hawes said.

'Get in there, you rotten hood,' Meyer said, 'and don't give me any back talk.' He glanced at the woman on the bench only cursorily, and then shoved at his prisoner. The man he shoved was wearing handcuffs. The cuffs were tight on his wrists.