Quarrel with the Moon Read Free Page A

in enough trouble at home."
    "You and your lady friend live together?" asked Bullins. Josh nodded. "Then I don't envy you. My old lady would be waiting with her mouth open and her legs closed. You understand that we're going to have to take you right to your door?" Josh looked sharply at the officer. "Regulations, Mr. Holman. We got to make sure that you're really who you and your wallet say you are."
    "But I don't want Cresta to see me arriving with a police escort."
    "Sorry, Mr. Holman. We can't bend the rules that far. We should be taking you down to the station house."
    Josh's eyes flashed with anger, but he said nothing.
    The policemen walked on either side of Josh in case they were needed for support. But the young man seemed to regain his sobriety with each step. A serpentine path led them through the maze which was called "the Rambles." The air became filled with the sickening sweet smell of honeysuckle. A half-dozen lightly clad figures who had been leaning against a railing began to move with purpose toward the exit.
    "Goddamn fags," muttered McCafferty.
    The air was heavy and oppressive, as if a damp blanket had been dropped over the entire city. A rolling bank of storm clouds obliterated the moon and chased away the stars. A roar of thunder rose and fell and lightning bounded across the horizon, filling the atmosphere with a sulphurous aroma which was almost tangible. Josh stared at the swirling sky as if it somehow held the answer to his dilemma.
    As they walked up the dimly lit path toward Central Park West and Seventy-Seventh Street, they heard a rustling in the undergrowth. The bushes suddenly parted and an indistinct form rushed at them. McCafferty instinctively stepped in front of Josh to protect him; Bullins raised his revolver. The amorphous form of Maggie Meehan, a robust bag lady and denizen of Central Park, materialized under the street light. Both cops relaxed and holstered their revolvers. Maggie was harmless. Brandishing an umbrella like a sword, Maggie danced around the group, making thrusting parries with her weapon.
    "Sons o' bitchin' cops! Why haven't you found my cart? They took my cart an' you ain't even looked for it." She scrutinized Josh with rheumy eyes set in a grotesquely made-up face. "Oh no! You're too busy gatherin' nuts to find my cart."
    "Now, Maggie," said Bullins affectionately, as if speaking to a child, "you know that we've looked for your cart. We've looked and we've looked, but it's nowhere to be found. Perhaps you should go back to the A&P and get yourself another one."
    "They been lockin' 'em up at night, the sons o' bitches," the old woman grunted.
    "Have they now?" Bullins continued. "Well, I don't think they do over at the Big Apple."
    "The Big Apple," the old woman rolled the words around in her mouth like a piece of hard candy. "Didn't think of the Big Apple!"
    "I hear their carts are better anyway," grinned McCafferty.
    The bag lady smiled broadly, revealing a profusion of teeth which resembled burnt tree stumps. Then she opened her umbrella. It was torn, its ribs showing, but that didn't seem to matter to her. As proudly as a drum majorette leading a parade, Maggie marched ahead of the trio until they reached the sidewalk. Then, with a flourish, she bent over, wiggled her buttocks at the passing cars and farted. Then, shrieking like a banshee, she disappeared into the night.
    Josh glanced at the two policemen. "You seem to have your hands full tonight. I'm sorry to add to your problems."
    "Hell, Mr. Holman," said Bullins. "Our night's just beginning. I'm sure you're the least of them."
    The fast-traveling clouds, black and blue and roaring gray, broke apart. The rain cascaded down in silver sheets, scattering the hustlers, homosexuals, drug addicts, and winos from the shadows of the park to the safety of doorways and awnings. Cursing, the policemen hurried Josh to their patrol car.
    A short time later the police pulled up in front of 200 West Seventy-Seventh Street. The