After the First Death by Lawrence Block Read Free Book Online

answered.
    I said, “It’s Alex. I have to tell you—”
    “Oh, God,” he said. “Where have they got you? I’ll get a lawyer down to see you. I—”
    “I’m not in custody.”
    “You haven’t turned yourself in yet? You’d better. The police were here a few hours ago, asking about you. And they showed a photo of you on television. It’ll be in the morning papers. My God, Alex, what happened?”
    “Nothing happened.” We were both silent for a moment, and then I said, “I didn’t kill the girl Doug.”
    “Oh?”
    “I was with her, but that’s no crime. Someone else killed her.”
    “Who?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Then how do you—”
    “I saw someone else kill her. It’s the last thing I remember. I can’t remember what he looked like. Just a hand with a knife in it.”
    “You were drinking.”
    “Yes.”
    “Memory’s a funny thing, Alex. Of course the police can try to help you. Pentothal, drugs like that, they might improve your memory. Fill things out.”
    “I can’t go to the police.”
    “I don’t see what else you can do—”
    “I can’t go to them.”
    “Why not?”
    It was a thoroughly maddening conversation. “Because they won’t for a minute believe me,” I said, “any more than you do.”
    The sentence echoed back and forth over the telephone line. Neither of us had anything in particular to append to it. Finally, his voice somewhat different now, he said, “Why are you calling me?”
    “I need money.”
    “To make a run for it? You’ll never do it.”
    “Not to run, damn it To survive while I find out who in hell killed the girl Doug, please, humor me. Pretend to believe me.”
    “Oh, Christ—”
    “Let me have a couple of hundred in cash. You’ll get it back.”
    “Are you that flat?”
    “Well, I can’t exactly run around cashing checks. Can I come up there? I’ve got ten cents in my pocket, that’s all. I’ll find a way to get another dime for the subway. All right?”
    “I don’t want you coming up here.”
    “Why not?”
    “The police were here, don’t you understand? I don’t want to be an accessory—”
    I stopped listening. I tuned in again long enough to hear something to the effect that, after all, this was not the first time this had happened, and then I tuned out again and gave up.
    “Alex? Are you still there?”
    “Yes.”
    “Tell me where you are. I’ll come down, give you the dough. But I don’t want you coming up here. Fair enough?”
    Tell me where you are. I almost did, but the operator cut in just then, requesting that I deposit another five cents. I’d already wasted ten cents on the call and that was enough. I stalled her.
    Tell me where you are. And he, my good friend, acting no doubt in my own best interests, would tell the police where to find me.
    “Broadway and Eighty-sixth Street,” I said. “Southwest corner.” And hung up.

6
    I WALKED DOWNTOWN. I HAD ONE DIME LEFT, AND WOULD HAVE needed another to take the subway, and it did not seem worth the effort to hunt up and hustle a second sympathetic faggot. It was simpler to walk.
    I stayed on Eighth Avenue as far as Thirty-third Street. Further down there were a batch of Greek and Arabic nightclubs, belly dancers and such, and more street and sidewalk traffic than I cared to be exposed to. At Thirty-third I cut over to Seventh, and stayed on Seventh down to the Village. The Village, too, was crowded, but there was no help for that.
    At first as I walked, I thought about money. It was my most immediate need. I was neither hungry nor tired just yet but I could anticipate being both before very long; I would need food and a safe place to sleep, and money could secure them both. I considered letting a homosexual pick me up and then rolling him. The tall slender man who had given me the token had suggested that much to me by assuming I had met just such a fate myself. He did make it sound the simplest of crimes to carry off, but I couldn’t see myself in the role. It