Death Wish Read Free Page B

Jack’s wrist. “What about Esther? What did he mean, still alive?”
    Jack’s chin dropped; he stared at his shoes. “Pop, they—they must have twisted her neck as if she were a rag doll.”

    A nurse came in and touched the cop on the arm. “What are you doing?”
    â€œTrying to stop the man bleeding.”
    â€œIt’s not arterial, officer. And it’s better to let him bleed a little than to put an unsterilized handkerchief on the wound.”
    â€œMiss, I’ve seen enough cases of shock from loss of blood. Now I know you people are swamped. I’m only trying to help out.”
    â€œThank you, then. That’ll be all.” The nurse took the injured man by the arm and led him away. The man looked over his shoulder at the cop but never changed expression.
    The cop came back to the bench. Jack said, “What happened to him?”
    â€œHe was in a bar. Somebody broke a bottle in half and carved his arm. No particular reason—he didn’t even know the man. These hot summer days people go a little crazy. But I guess you know enough about that.” The cop seemed to feel an obligation to apologize for everything that had happened in the world. Paul understood how he felt. It was as if whatever happened was your fault and you ought to try and make amends.
    Paul said, “Can you tell me anything about this?”
    The cop said, “I don’t know too much about it myself. Later on you could call the precinct. You want the number?”
    â€œPlease.” Paul took out his pen and found a scrap of paper in his pocket—the American Express receipt from lunch. He wrote on the back of it as the cop dictated:
    â€œTwentieth Precinct. Seven-nine-nine, four one hundred. The station house is right around the corner from your building, I don’t know if you’ve noticed it. One-fifty West Sixty-eighth, that short little block between Broadway and Amsterdam.”
    â€œWho should I ask for?”
    â€œI don’t know who’ll be in charge of your case. Probably one of the Detective Lieutenants.”
    â€œWho’s the head man there?”
    The cop smiled very slightly. “Captain DeShields. But he’d only refer you down to whoever’s in charge of the case.”
    â€œDo you mind telling me whatever you do know?”
    â€œIt’s not much. I wasn’t the first one to get there. It looks like some men got into the building without the doorman seeing them. Maybe they were junkies, they usually are. Looking for something to steal.”
    â€œHow did they get into our apartment?”
    â€œAfraid I don’t know. If the door wasn’t double-locked they could’ve slipped the lock with a plastic card. Or maybe they just knocked and your wife let them in. Burglars often do that—knock to find out if anybody’s home. If nobody answers the door they break in. Otherwise most of them make up some lame excuse about being on the wrong floor, and go away.”
    â€œBut these didn’t go away.”
    â€œNo sir, I guess not.” The cop’s delivery was impersonal, as if he were testifying in court, but you could feel his compassion.
    Paul said, “They got away,” not a question.
    â€œYes sir. We still had patrolmen searching the building when I left, but I don’t think they’ll find anyone. It’s possible somebody saw them in the building or on your floor. Maybe somebody rode with them in the elevator. There’ll be detectives over there, they’ll be asking everybody in the building if they saw anyone. It’s possible they might get descriptions. Anyhow I imagine your daughter will be able to describe them as soon as she’s feeling a little better.”
    Paul shook his head. “They’re never found, these animals. Are they?”
    â€œSometimes we catch them.”
    Paul’s glance flicked belligerently toward the doorway to the corridor. For