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Risk it, Haggerty told himself, and he did, catching them both scooting from the Music Box to the Imperial with ease.
“
Just checking
”
he told the old lady at the Imperial flashing the gold badge.
“
Go with God, Haggerty,
”
she said, opening the door for him, Jetting him bathe in the magic. Haggerty applauded loudly with his big hands, letting the kids up on stage know his appreciation, then went back to the sidewalk, checked his watch, and pleased, walked slowly to the Belasco for the great
“
Black and Blue
”
number that summed up
Ain
’
t Misbe
h
avin
’.

Then he went home, poured himself a shot of whiskey, ran the tub. He had been on his feet a good while today, and his legs ached because, strictly speaking, he was no cookie anymore. You must stop with this
“
strictly speaking
”
bullshit, he told himself then. You
’
re
old.
So he rested in the tub and sipped his drink and then napped, first setting the alarm, and then, rested and cheery, he began to think about dinner.

That was what Haggerty did on his days off.

Eric didn
’
t believe in them.

Oh, every so often he
’
d get in his car and just drive, up to New England when the leaves were turning, that kind of thing. Or just pack up and grab some girl or other and hotfoot it down to the Caribbean, leave your mind at home, let your body do the talking. But as a rule, especially when things were going badly, he stayed close to home.

And things were going very badly now.

He had spent much of the day at his desk at the 19th, working the phones. But he had gone out several times, once to aid in bringing to justice two adorable-looking eleven-year-old boys who had put a heated iron on the face of a six-year-old girl who lived in the same apartment house. The girl was scarred permanently; the boys thought it was funny.

Another incident involved a merchant on Third who objected to a pushcart vendor selling belts on the sidewalk when he, the merchant, happened to also sell belts
and
pay taxes. They had argued, the merchant had pushed the vendor, they argued some more, louder; another push. Then screams, a shove, and the vendor, a young man, had dropped dead of an apparent stroke making the merchant, an honest and decent murderer, but a murderer nonetheless. Eric got little pleasure out of booking him.

But in many ways the high point of his day concerned Mrs. Atherton. Close to eighty, she lived in a town house on 70th off Park. Her maid, Cleo, had been with her for five years when Cleo told Mrs. Atherton she had to leave because her son OJ. was getting in trouble and she had to return to the islands. Mrs. Atherton insisted O.J. come live with his mother, they fixed up the spare room beside the kitchen, and everything went fine for a
week, until today in point of fact, when O.J. raped the old woman. Cleo was the one who called the 19th about it and Eric was the one who got to accompany the old woman to Lenox Hill. The last thing she said to Eric, touching his hand with her broken fingers was,
“
I don
’
t want to lose Cleo, I don
’
t want my Cleo to leave me.
”

All of which led to words with Captain Haig. Captain Haig ran the 19th and was well thought of at Headquarters. He was a ruddy, handsome man, a good drinker, and possessed a wondrous memory for names. Eric felt he was a bigot and genuinely detested him. But quietly. Captain Haig wasn
’
t crazy about Eric either.

“
He fucked her?
”
Captain Haig said to Eric.
“
Eighty years old and he
fucked
her?
”

Eric suggested the Captain read the report.

“
Was there sodomy?
”
the Captain asked.

Eric looked up from his desk.
“
Do you really care?
”

“
What
’
s that supposed to mean?
”

“
I just wondered if it would make your day or not— it strikes me as sort of an imbecilic question.
”

“
Watch your mouth.
”

Eric waited for his superior to leave.

Captain Haig moved in close.
“
The question had a meaning, because there
’
s a war going on in the streets, and when Go
l
dwater talked about it all you liberals thought he was a nut, but now you know he was right, and the reason the war
’
s not going to get any better is because there are facts that can
’
t be said. They
’
re different from the rest of us—that
’
s a fact—no fifteen-year-old white kid would have raped her.
”
He stalked off.

Idiot, Eric told himself. He
’
s an asshole and
you
know he
’
s an asshole and
he
knows you know he
’
s an asshole so why do you have to
call
him an asshole? Not smart. Not your basic smooth move.

Well, blame it on Billy Boy.

Or rather, on the absence of same.

That, coupled with any number of other facts. Like no one other than Eric was at all convinced that this William
“
Billy Boy
”
Winslow was the killer. He had been spotted only yesterday, or someone like him had been spotted, in South Florida. And there was no connection between the Oliver woman and the clothing salesman other than that both of their necks had been broken. Lots of people got their necks broken, check the files. Also the
clothing salesman had a brother-in-law whom he was on the outs with and who had disappeared over the last few days which made him a more than likely suspect. Plus Captain Haig was convinced the killers were young, not so gifted, and black. Only Eric knew. Or thought he knew. Except no one could find him. None of Eric
’
s
“
voices
”
gave a cry. No sound, nothing. Billy Boy had simply disappeared.

“
I booked us at
Wally
’
s at nine,
”
Haggerty said, walking in, sitting on the edge of Eric
’
s desk.
“
It
’
s almost that now, get your coat on.
”

“
I guess I
’
m not so hungry,
”
Eric said.

Haggerty got Eric
’
s coat, tossed it into Eric
’
s lap.
“
We
’
ll have the double sirloin.
”

Eric was very serious about steaks. Whenever a new steak house opened, he was always among the first to give it a shot. But his favorites were never truly challenged: if you were eating alone, the best was Broadway Joe on 46th Street; if there was somebody else, the double sirloin at
Wally
’
s was the outstanding steak in Manhattan.
“
Will you have it really rare?
”
Eric asked.
“
None of your Irish
‘
medium
’
shit.
”

“
Blue we
’
ll have it,
”
Haggerty promised.
“
My sole purpose of this evening is to cheer you up.
”

On the way to
Wally
’
s, Eric told of his talk with the Captain.

“
Lemme see if I
’
ve got this right now,
”
Haggerty said when Eric was done.
“
For no reason other than petulance, you indicated that your boss, your superior, your paterfamilias, was
a
schmuck.
”

“
That was certainly the clear implication,
”
Eric admitted.

“
Genius,
”
Haggerty said.
“
I
’
ll come visit you when you
’
re walking a beat again. I
’
ll bring you hot coffee from Chock Full o
’
Nuts to remind you what it was like in the land of the living.
”

Eric brooded in silence, until they got to the restaurant. It was jammed, as always, but they lucked out, being seated at the table they liked best, the round one in the left rear, where Tony was the waiter. He brought them menus; Haggerty shook his head, he didn
’
t need one, while Eric quickly opened his, studying it to see if anything new had gone in since their last time.

“
We
’
re having the double sirloin,
”
Haggerty said,
“
that much is definite.
”

“
An
’
how would you like that?
”

“
Medium,
”
Haggerty said and then as Eric
’
s head jerked up
from the menu, eyes glaring, he quickly put up his big hands in a peacemaking position.
“
Joke, a joke, Eric, just wanted to see if I had your attention. I
’
m cheering you up tonight, remember?
”
Haggerty looked at Tony now.
“
Rare,
”
he said.
“
Underlined.
”

“
You want it very rare, right
?
”

“
Wrong, Tony; and we don
’
t want it blue either—we want it
so
red and juicy inside just tell the chef to lean the cow against the radiator.
”

Eric smiled, closed the menu.
“
And the cottage fries crisp, the same with the onion rings.
”

Haggerty nodded.
“
And bring me a brew.
”

“
What kind, Mr. Haggerty?
”

Haggerty shrugged.
“
Any of
‘
em, just so it
’
s icy cold.
”
He took the menu from Eric, handed it to Tony.
“
Hey, let
’
s start with some pasta as an opener; how
‘
bout the shells?
”

“
Perfect,
”
Eric said. Then he shut one eye.
“
Now, my only problem is, since I can
’
t have the same kind of beer with the pasta as with the steak, what do I want with what—?
”

“
—Tony,
”
Haggerty interrupted.
“
Would you give us just a minute alone. I
’
ll signal for you, all right?
”

Tony bowed, was gone.

Haggerty looked seriously at Eric now. He took a deep breath.
“
Look, I know you
’
re in a foul mood so this probably isn
’
t the time, and I know I
’
m supposed to cheer you up and all, and this certainly won
’
t do that—but I
’
ve got to say it: Eric, you
’
re getting to be the bore of the world with this beer fetish. You do it every meal we have together and it
’
s not a good habit.
”
He made his voice into a falsetto.
“
Oh dear, shall I have pale ale with the cottage fries and stout with the onion rings, whatever shall I do?
”

Stung, Eric controlled his voice.
“
Each beer has its own character, Frank—in a very definite way, beer is like wine—and you want to make the most appropriate selection to augment the flavors of your food. And you call it a
‘
fetish
’
again, I
’
ll kick your ass.
”

“
I don
’
t want to make too much of this, Eric my boy, but
I
know
each beer has its own character, its own special taste.
Everybody
knows that. And anyone with half a brain can tell one from the other. It
’
s the fucking
anguish
you go through that drives me crazy.
”

“
In point of fact, Frank old fart, in a blind tasting they are
very
hard to tell apart—even an expert can be fooled.
”