Зима тревоги нашей

           Ineedtoseehim."

           "Well,trytocatchhimifyoucan.He’sjumpinglikeaquarterinatambourine."

           "Icanbringsandwichestoyourbattlestation,Joey."

           "Imightjustaskyouto."

           "Ipaythistime,"Isaid.

           "Okay."

           Wecrossedthestreettogetherandwentintothealley."Yousoundlowy,Joey."

           "Iam.Igetprettytiredofotherpeople’smoney.IgotahotdatefortheweekendandI’llprobablybetoopoopedtowarmuptoit."Henudgedagumwrapperintothelock,wentin,saying,"Seeyou,"andclosedthedoor.Ipushedthebackdooropen."Joey!Youwantasandwichtoday?"

           "Nothanks,"hecalledoutofthedim,floor-oil-smellinginterior."MaybeFriday,Saturdaysure."

           "Don’tyoucloseatnoon?"

           "Itoldyou.ThebankclosesbutMorphydon’t."

           "Justcallonme."

           "Thanks—thanks,Mr.Hawley."

           Ihadnothingtosaytomyforcesontheshelvesthatmorningexcept"Goodmorninggentlemen—atease!"Atafewmomentsbeforenine,apronedandbroomed,Iwasoutfront,sweepingthesidewalk.

           Mr.BakerissoregularyoucanhearhimtickandI’msurethere’sahairspringinhischest.Eightfifty-six,fifty-seven,therehecamedownElmStreet;eightfifty-eight,hecrossed;eightfifty-nine—hewasattheglassdoors,whereI,withbroomatcarryarms,interceptedhim."Mr.Baker,Iwanttotalktoyou."

           "Morning,Ethan.Canyouwaitaminute?Comeonin."

           Ifollowedhim,anditwasjustasJoeysaid—likeareligiousceremony.