Chapter 18 Chapter 18 Pater Street

None of the canned goods stocked in the shed whetted our appetite for breakfast.We made breakfast with stale brewed coffee that had been stored for a long time in zinc-lined buckets. We went down a mile to a farm where there was a boy who didn't mind taking us into town in the family Ford for a few bucks.He asked a lot of questions and we either lied about it or didn't say a word.He dropped us off at a diner on the north end of King Street.There we ate a great deal of buckwheat pancakes and salt pork. A taxi took us to Dinah's doorstep at a few minutes to nine.I scoured the house for her, from the ceiling to the basement, and found no sign of anyone coming.

"When will you be back?" she asked as she followed me to the door. "I'll try to see you again before midnight, but only for a few minutes. Where's Lull Yard?" "1622 Pater Street. Pater Street is three blocks from here. 1622 is over four blocks. What are you doing there?" Before I could answer, she grabbed my hand. Arm begged, "Grab Max. Will you? I'm afraid of him." "Maybe before long I'll be encouraging Noonan to get him. That depends on how things go." She called me a goddamn liar or something, said I'd give her life as long as I got my damn job done.

I'm going to Pater Street.1622 was a red brick house with a garage under the front porch. A block up I found Dick Foley in a rented Buick.I went in and sat next to him and asked, "How is it?" "Watched at two. Out at three-thirty to Wilson's office. Mickey. Five. Home. Busy. Standing there. Left at three, seven. Nothing more." By this he was telling me that he had followed Lul Yard at two o'clock the afternoon before; followed him to Wilson's at three-thirty, where Mickey followed Pete;Went to his house; saw people going in and out of the house, but didn't follow anyone's tail, watched the house until three o'clock this morning, and was back there at seven: haven't seen it since Anyone goes in or out.

"You gotta get out of here and keep an eye on Wilson," I said. "I hear Vesper Taylor's hiding there, and I've got to keep an eye on him before I decide whether or not to tell Noonan on him." Dick nodded and started the engine, and I got out and headed back to the hotel. There was a telegram from the old man: I stuffed the telegram in my pocket and hoped things would continue to go well.Sending him the news he wants now is like sending my resignation letter. I changed into a shirt and walked briskly towards City Hall. "Hi," Noonan greeted me, "I was hoping you'd come. Tried to find you at your hotel, but they told me you weren't there."

He didn't look very well this morning, but he seemed genuinely happy to see me this time, based on his warm welcome. One of his phones rang as I sat down.He lifted the receiver to his ear, said "Hello?" He listened for a while, said, "You'd better get out of there by yourself, Mark," and played it twice before putting the receiver back on the phone fork.His face had gone pale, but his voice was more or less normal when he spoke to me. "Lure Yard's dead—shot him just now as he came down the front steps." "Anything specific?" I asked, mentally cursing myself for pulling Dick Foley off Pater Street an hour too early.That was a very unfavorable mutation.

Noonan shook his head, eyes fixed on his knees. "Shall we go out and look at the body?" I suggested, standing up. He neither stood up nor looked up. "No," he said wearily into his knees, "honestly, I don't want to go. I don't know if I can take it as much as I did. I'm tired of killing people like this. It's making me—nervous, I mean." I sat down again, considering his depressed mood, and asked, "Who do you think killed him?" "God knows," he said vaguely, "everybody's killing everybody. When will it end?"

"Think if Renault did it?" Noonan flinched, started looking up at me, changed his mind, and said again, "God knows." I asked him from another angle: "Did anyone die in the 'Silver Arrow' fight last night?" "Only three." "Who are they?" "A pair of Johnson brothers called Blackie Warren and Putt Collins, they just released on bail yesterday about five o'clock, and Dutch Jack Wall, a bum." "What's the matter?" "I guess it was just a brawl. It looked like Putt and Blackie and the other guys that came out with them were celebrating with a lot of friends and then it ended in smoke."

"Are they all from Lure Yard?" "Then I don't know," he said. I stood up, said, "Oh, all right," and started walking toward the door. "Wait," he cried, "don't run away like that. I guess they are." I sit back in the chair.Noonan looked at his desktop.His face was gray, flabby, and wet, like fresh putty paint. "Vesper's at Wilson's," I told him. He looked up.His eyes darken.Then his mouth twitched, and his head sank again.His eyes darkened. "I can't take it," he muttered. "I'm tired of this carnage. I can't take it anymore."

"Tired enough to give up the idea of ​​avenging Tim's death if it brings peace?" I asked. "yes." "That's fine," I reminded him. "If you're willing to give it up, it should be possible to stop it." He looked up at me with the eyes of a dog looking at a bone. "Others should be as fed up as you are," I continued. "Tell them how you feel. Gather them for peace talks." "They'll think I'm playing some kind of trick," he objected pitifully. "Assembly at Wilson's. Vesper's living there now. You'd risk your tricks there. Are you afraid?"

He frowned and asked, "Are you going with me?" "If you want me." "Thanks," he said, "I—I'll try."