The 1st Deadly Sin Read Free Page A

He fell again. Blank was frantically kicking him in the groin when the bartender finally came alive and rushed around the bar to pinion his arms and drag him away.
    Once again the police were summoned. This time Blank thought it best to call his lawyer, Russell Tamblyn. He came to the 251st Precinct house and, shortly before dawn, the incident was closed.
    The injured man who, it was learned, had a sad record of offenses including attempts to molest a child and to proposition a plain-clothed patrolman in a subway toilet—refused to sign a complaint. He said he had been drunk, knew nothing of what had happened, and accepted responsibility for the “unfortunate accident.”
    The detective who took Daniel Blank’s statement was the same man who had taken his testimony in the incident involving the tenant who kicked his dog.
    “You again?” the detective asked curiously.
    The attorney brought the signed waiver to Daniel Blank, saying, “It’s all squared away. He’s not making a charge. You’re free to go.”
    “Russ, I told you it wasn’t my fault.”
    “Oh sure. But the man has a broken jaw and possible internal injuries. Dan, you’ve got to learn to control yourself.”
    But that wasn’t the end of it. Because the doorman, Charles Lipsky, found out, even though nothing had been published in the newspapers. The bartender at The Parrot was Lipsky’s brother-in-law.
    A week later the doorman rang the bell of Blank’s apartment. After inspection through the peephole, he was admitted. Lipsky immediately launched into a long, jumbled chronicle of his troubles. His wife needed a hernia operation; his daughter needed expensive treatment for an occluded bite; he himself was heavily in debt to loansharks who threatened to break his legs, and he needed five hundred dollars at once.
    Blank was bewildered by this recital. He asked what it had to do with him. Lipsky then stammered that he knew what had happened at The Parrot. It wasn’t Mr. Blank’s fault, certainly, but if other tenants…If it became known…If people started talking…
    And then he winked at Daniel Blank.
    That knowing wink, that smirky wink, was worse than the victim’s whispered, “I love you.” Daniel Blank felt attacked by a beast whose bite excited and inflamed. Violence bubbled.
    Lipsky must have seen something in his eyes, for he turned suddenly, ran out, slammed the door behind him. Since then they had hardly spoken. When necessary, Blank ordered and the doorman obeyed, never raising his eyes. At Christmas, Daniel distributed the usual amounts: ten dollars to each doorman. He received the usual thank-you card from Charles Lipsky.
    Blank pushed the button; the door of the automatic elevator slid silently open. He stepped inside, pushed button C (for Close door), button 21 (for his floor), and button M (for Music desired). He rode upward to the muted strains of “I Got Rhythm.”
    He lived at the front end of one leg of the building’s U. It was an exceptionally large four-room apartment with living room windows facing north, bedroom windows east, and kitchen and bathroom windows west, or really down into the apartment house courtyard. The walk to his door from the elevator was along a carpeted tunnel. The corridor was softly lighted, the many doors blind, air refrigerated and dead.
    He unlocked his door, reached in and switched on the foyer light. Then he stepped inside, looked about. He closed the door, double-locked it, put on the chain, adjusted the Police Bar, a burglar-proof device consisting of a heavy steel rod that fitted into a slot in the floor and was propped into a recess bolted to the door.
    Mildly hungry, Blank dropped clothing and gear on a foyer chair and went directly to the kitchen. He switched on the blued fluorescent light. He inspected the contents of his refrigerator, selected a small cantaloupe and sliced it in half, at right angles to the stem line. He wrapped half in wax paper and returned it to the refrigerator. He