Excerpt
“What the Beejayzus brings you up to these parts, Boyo? And what was yuh filchin there from that little house on the lawn?”
“Nothin’, Officer. I got lost. I was lookin’ for someone to give me directions.”
“Directions, is it? An yuh jus happened to climb over a fence or two in yer wanderins?”
“I was running away from some guys. They wanted to fight me.”
The policeman nodded.
“Well, it don’t surprise me none. Bloody little hooligans all over the place these days. Get in the car.”
I sat beside him in the front seat and felt like my life had come to a dead end.
“Am I under arrest, Officer?”
“Don’t know yet, Boyo. Yer case is still under investigation.”
“Maybe I should call a lawyer.”
“An how would you have come into the acquaintance of a lawyer I’d like to know?”
“My uncle. Patrick. He lives in New York.”
“Ah, New York. Lots of people live there, busy people too I hear, no need to worry Patrick with yer shenanigans. Where do you live?”
“Fifth Street. Three fifty.”
We drove without speaking through the winding, tree shaded streets of Cliffdale and out through a large stone gate. Before long I recognized Newark Avenue, then Brunswick, and as we headed up toward Fifth I felt a sudden pang of anxiety. I raised my hand like I was in school, and the policeman laughed his big, open laugh.
“What is it, Boyo?”
“Do you think you could, uh, drop me off, uh, maybe right here or so?”
“Ah, don’t want yer folks to see you drivin up in the company of the city’s finest, eh? Well, you’re okay this time, Boyo, but I’ve got me eyes on ya, count on that, and watch where you step.”
“Thanks, officer. I really appreciate it.”
“The name’s Padriag. And I have some advice for ya. You got no bizness up there on the hill. They ain’t our kind. Got different ways, ya see? And it’s just trouble if ya blunder inta their goin’s on. Now if you give me yer solemn word, so help you God, that you’ll stay where you belong…
Libros Libertad 