Chapter 19 Chapter Nineteen

Coming out of her building, a taxi stopped just ahead to let people out.I got on it and told the driver the address of my hotel.The wiper on the driver's side is broken.He is white, but his driver's license photo shows black.There is a sign that says: No smoking, driver is allergic.The car smelled of marijuana. "Can't see a damn thing," said the driver. I lean back in my chair and enjoy the ride. I made a call to Chance's contact station in the hotel lobby and went upstairs to my room.About fifteen minutes later, he called. "Goyakod," he said, "I tell you, I like that word. Knocking on a lot of doors today?"

"there's a few." "How about it?" "She has a boyfriend who buys her presents and she goes around showing them off." "Show off to whom? My group of girls?" "No, that's why I thought it was her secret. It was one of her neighbors who mentioned the gift to me." "The neighbor adopted the kitten?" "That's right." "'Put your ass up and knock,' that really works. You're looking for a missing kitten and you find a clue. What's the gift?" "A fur coat, and some jewelry."

"Fur," he said, "you mean that rabbit coat?" "She said it was mink." "Dyed rabbit fur," he said, "I bought it for her. I took her shopping and paid cash. I think it was last winter. The neighbor said it was mink, and damn it, I thought Sell ​​that neighbor two mink furs like that and beat her up." "King said it was mink." "Tell her neighbours?" "Tell me about it." — Stick School · E Book Group — I close my eyes and think of her sitting with me at Armstrong's Bar. “Says that she came to New York with a denim jacket and is now wearing a mink coat, and that if she can get over the past few years, she would rather trade the mink coat for that denim jacket.”

His laughter echoed on the phone. "The dyed rabbit fur," he said with certainty, "is worth more than the rags she wore when she got off the bus, but it's not enough as a ransom. And it wasn't her boyfriend who bought it for her, it was me." "Uh--" "Unless I'm her so-called boyfriend." "possible." "You mentioned jewelry. Hers are fake. Have you seen what's in her jewelry box? Nothing of value." "I know." "Fake pearls, a class commemorative ring. I gave her the only good thing she had, a bracelet, maybe you've seen it?"

"Ivory?" "Yes, old ivory, gold fittings, hinges and hooks, not much, but gold is gold, isn't it?" "You bought it for her?" "It cost a hundred-dollar bill. If you want to find that kind of good stuff in the store, you'll have to spend at least three hundred dollars." "Is it stolen goods?" "Well, I don't buy anything without a receipt. The guy who sold it to me didn't say the bracelet was stolen, he just said he was going to sell it for a hundred bucks. I should have taken it with me when I got the picture. .You know, I bought that bracelet because I liked it, and I gave it to her because I wasn't going to wear it. Besides, I thought it would look good on her wrist. It's true. You still think she has a boyfriend?"

"I think so." "You sound less sure. Or just tired. Are you tired?" "tired." "Because of knocking on too many doors. What else did her so-called boyfriend do for her besides buying gifts that he didn't actually buy?" "He intends to take care of her." "Oh shit," he said, "that's what I do, man. What else can I do but take care of her?" I stretched out in bed and fell asleep without undressing.I've knocked on too many doors and talked to too many people.I wanted to go to Sunny.I've called her to say I'm going over, only to fall asleep.

I dreamed of blood and a woman screaming. I woke up sweating profusely with a metallic taste deep in my mouth.I take a shower and change clothes.I found Sunny's phone number in the notebook and dialed it in the lobby, but no one answered.I breathed a sigh of relief, looked at my watch, and walked towards St. Paul's Church. The speaker has a soft voice, light brown hair, a slightly bald forehead, and a childish face.At first I thought he was a priest.In the end, he was a murderer and a homosexual. One night, he suddenly lost consciousness and chopped his lover thirty or forty times with a kitchen knife.He said quietly that he had vague recollections of what happened because his consciousness came and went.Waking up with the knife in his hand, he was terrified by the horrific sight, before sinking back into darkness.

He spent seven years in the prison of Attica and had not drunk a drink since his release, and had been three years now.It was unnerving to hear him talk.I'm not sure how I feel about him.He was able to get out of prison alive, I don't know whether to be happy for him or sad for him. During the break, Jim and I chatted.Maybe it was the influence of what the guy had just been through, or the obsession with King's death, but I started talking about all the violence, all the crimes, all the murders. "I can't stand it," I said, "every time I pick up the paper I see some goddamn stuff, it's driving me crazy."

"You know that old joke? 'Doctor, it hurts every time I do this.' 'Then don't do this.'" "how?" "You should stop reading the papers." I glanced at him. — Stick School · E Book Group — "I mean it," he said, "and those reports bother me, as do reports about the international situation. If it's a good thing, it doesn't get in the papers. But one day it occurred to me that maybe hearing someone else Well, anyway, I started thinking, there's no law saying I'm obliged to read that rubbish." "Just ignore it."

"Why not?" "That's ostrich behavior, isn't it? Out of sight, out of mind." "Maybe, but I see it differently. I don't think there's any need to be driven mad by things you can't do anything about." "I couldn't bring myself to be indifferent to those things." "why?" I think of Donna. "Maybe I'm connected to all of humanity." "Me too," he said, "I'm here, I'm listening, I'm talking. I'm sane. That's my relationship to all of humanity." I poured some more coffee and took two biscuits.During the discussion, everyone told the speaker how much they appreciated his honesty.I thought, oh my god, I can never say something like that.Then, I turned my gaze to the wall.They had signs on the walls, good words like "Easy is easy" and one sign caught my attention: "God forgive me."

I thought to myself, no, fuck it.I don't kill people when I'm unconscious.Don't tell me anything about grace.When it was my turn to speak, I had nothing to say.