Manhattan Is My Beat (22 page)

“It’s not supposed to be.”

After twenty minutes of careful assembly, Stephanie examined Rune with approval and only then allowed her to look in a mirror.

“Awesome,” Rune whispered. “You’re a magician.”

The maroon skirt
was
long though it was more billowy than slinky. On top she wore a low-cut black T-shirt and over that a lacy see-through blouse. Stephanie picked out some dangly earrings in orange plastic.

“It’s not the old me but it’s definitely a
sort of
me.”

“I think you’re evolving,” Stephanie told her.

As the clerk wrapped up the clothes Rune said, “You know the story of the little red hen?”

“Was it on
Sesame Street?
“

“I don’t think so. She was the one who was baking bread, and nobody helped her, except this one animal. I forget what it was. Duck, rabbit. Who knows? Anyway, when the bread was done all the other animals came to the hen and said they wanted some. But she said, ‘Haul ass, creeps.’ And she only shared it with the one that helped her. Well, when I find the bank money I’m going to share it with you.”

“Me?”

“You believe me. Richard doesn’t. The police don’t.”

Stephanie didn’t say anything. They stepped outside
and returned to West Broadway. “You don’t have to do that, Rune,” she said finally.

“But I want to. Maybe you can quit the stupid video store and audition full-time.”

“Really …”

“No.” The Hungarian accent was back. “Don’t argue with peasant woman. Very pigheaded … Oh, wait.” Rune glanced at a store across the street. “Richard said he’s got a surprise for me. I want to get him something.”

They ran across Broadway, dodging traffic. Rune stopped, caught her breath, looked in the window. “What do men like?” she asked.

Stephanie said, “Themselves.” And they walked inside.

The store seemed futuristic but it may actually have been antique, Rune reasoned, since it reminded her of how her mother described the sixties—gaudy and filled with weird glowing lights and spaceships and planets and a confusion of incense smells: musk, patchouli, rose, sandalwood.

Rune looked at a black-lit poster of a ship sailing in the sky and said, “Highly retro.”

Stephanie looked around, bored.

In the display cases: geodes, crystals, stones, opals, silver and gold, magic wands of quartz wrapped with silver wire, headdresses, meteorites, NASA memorabilia, electronic music tapes, optical illusions. Colored lights broken apart by spinning prisms crawled up and down the walls.

“It’s going to make me epileptic,” Stephanie groused.

“This is the most radical store ever, don’t you think? Isn’t it fantastic?” Rune picked up two dinosaurs and made them dance.

“The jewelry’s nice.” Stephanie was leaning over a counter.

“What do you think he’d like?”

“This stuff is too expensive. A rip-off.”

Rune spun a kaleidoscope. “He’s not really into toys, I don’t think.”

The clerk, a thin black man with a round, handsome face framed by Rastafarian dreadlocks, said to Rune in a deep musical voice, “What you see in there?”

“Nirvana. Look.” She handed the heavy tube to him.

He played along, peering inside. “Ah, nirvana, there she is. Special today on kaleidoscopes that show you enlightenment. Half price.”

Rune shook her head. “Doesn’t seem right you should pay for enlightenment.”

“This is New York,” he said. “Whatchu want?”

Stephanie said, “I’m hungry.”

Then Rune saw the bracelets. In a huge glass pyramid, a dozen silver bracelets. She walked to the end of the counter, staring at them, her mouth slightly open. Exhaling an
Oh
.

“You like them, do you?” the clerk asked.

“Can I see that one, there?”

Rune took the thin bracelet, held it up to her face. Turned it over and over. The silver grew thicker and thinner and the ends were like two hands clasped together.

The Rastafarian grinned. “She look nice. She look nice on your arm but …”

“‘She’?” Stephanie asked.

The clerk was studying Rune’s face. “Mebbe you thinkin’ ‘bout givin’ her away to someone. Mebbe you thinkin’ that?” He held the bracelet in his long, sensuous fingers, studied it carefully. Rune thought of Richard’s hands slowly opening a beer can. The clerk looked up. “To some man friend of yours.”

Rune didn’t pay attention to his words. “How did you know that?” Stephanie asked him.

He grinned, silent. Then said, “He’s a nice man, I think.”

Stephanie looked at him uneasily. “How did you
know?
“

And Rune, who wasn’t surprised at all by the clerk’s words, said, “I’ll take it.”

“It’s too expensive.”

The Rastafarian frowned. “Hey, I offer you satori, I offer you love, and you say that be too expensive?”

“Bargain with him,” Stephanie commanded.

Rune said, “Wrap it for a present.”

The Rastafarian hesitated. “You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. Why?”

“Oh, jus’ this bracelet, she be important in your life, I got this feelin’. Be very important.” He fingered the metal hoop. “Don’t be too fast to give her away. No, no, don’t be too fast to do that.”

“Can we eat now?” Stephanie asked. “I’m hungry.”

As they walked to the door the clerk called to Rune, “You hear me?”

Rune turned. Looked into his eyes. “I hear you.”

“‘I’ll go in, sir,’ “

Rune handed Stephanie a hot dog she’d bought from the vendor in front of Trinity Church downtown, near Wall Street. She continued speaking. “‘I’ll go in, sir’ is what Roy the cop—Dana Mitchell—says to his captain. They’re all standing around the front of the bank with their bullhorns and guns. ‘I’ll go in, sir.’ And it’s a big surprise because he’s just a beat cop and a young guy. Nobody’d been paying any attention to him. But he’s the one who volunteers to rescue the hostage.”

Rune took her own hot dog from the man. They sat
down beside the wrought-iron fence in front of the cemetery. Thousands of people were walking past on Broadway, some disappearing down Wall Street into the curving, solemn griminess of the buildings.

Stephanie ate thoughtfully, looking at the hot dog uncertainly after each bite.

“Then Roy goes, ‘Let me try it, sir. I can talk him out. I know I can.’“

“Uh-huh.” Stephanie was gazing straight ahead; the hordes of passing crowds were mesmerizing.

“So the lieutenant goes, ‘All right, officer, if you want to go, I won’t stop you.’“

Rune threw out her half-eaten hot dog. Stood up.” ‘But it’s dangerous.’“ She sounded as melodramatic as the character in the film itself. “That was another cop, a friend of his, said that. And Dana—remember that dreamy kind of look he had?—Dana says, ‘I’m not letting anyone get killed on
my
beat.’ His jaw was all firm and he pulled his hat straight and handed his nightstick to his friend then walked across the street and climbed in the side window.” Rune started pacing. “Come on, let’s go. I want to see the real bank.”

Stephanie glanced at the last inch of hot dog, then pitched it into a garbage can. She wiped her hands and mouth with a thin napkin.

They descended into Wall Street. A white luminescence shone through the milky clouds, but the Street, with its narrow, packed rows of dark office buildings, was gloomy.

Rune said, “They shot the movie at the old Union Bank Building itself—that’s were the actual robbery took place. The bank went bust years ago and the building was sold. It’s been a bunch of things since then. Last year some company bought it and made a restaurant out of the ground floor.”

Stephanie said, “Can we get some coffee there? I need some coffee.”

Rune was excited, walking ahead of her, then slowing and falling back into step. “Isn’t this too much? Walking the same streets the actors did forty years ago? Maybe Dana Mitchell stopped right here and put his foot up on that fire hydrant to tie his shoe.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, look!” Rune gripped her arm. “There, the corner! That’s where the robber fired a shot as the cops were closing in after the alarm went off. It’s a great scene.” She ran toward the corner, dodged past a young woman in a pink suit, and pressed back against the marble as if she were under fire. “Stephanie! Get down! Get under cover!”

“You’re crazy,” Stephanie said, walking slowly to the wall.

Rune reached forward. “You want to get shot? Get down!”

She pulled Stephanie, laughing, into a crouch. Several passersby had heard her. They looked around, cautious. Stephanie, pretending she didn’t know Rune, whispered, “You’re out of your mind!” Looking at the crowd, speaking louder: “She’s out of her mind.”

Rune’s eyes were bright. “Can you imagine it? The bank’s around the corner. And … Listen!” A jackhammer sounded in the distance. “A machine gun! The robber’s got a machine gun, an old tommy gun. He’s blasting away at us. Okay, it’s right around the corner and he’s got a hostage and a million dollars. I’ve got to save him!”

Stephanie laughed and tugged at Rune’s arm. Playing along now. “No, no don’t go, it’s too dangerous.”

Rune adjusted an invisible hat, eased her shoulders back. “Nobody gets killed on my beat.” And turned the corner.

Just in time to see a bulldozer shovel what had been
one of the floors of the Union Bank Building into a huge Dumpster.

“No …” Rune stopped in the middle of the congested sidewalk. Several businesspeople bumped into her before she stepped back. “Oh, no.” Her hand went to her mouth.

The demolition company had taken down most of the building already. Only part of one wall remained. The stubby dozer was shoveling up masses of shattered stone and wood and metal.

Rune said, “How could they do it?”

“What?”

“They tore it down. It’s gone.”

Rune stepped away from Stephanie, her eyes on the men who worked the clanking jackhammers. They stood on the edge of the remaining wall, forty feet up, and dug apart the masonry at their feet. She glanced up the street, then walked slowly across it, to the plywood barricade that shut out pedestrians from the demolition site.

She couldn’t look through the peepholes cut by the workers; they were at a six-footer’s level. So she walked into the site itself through the open chain-link gate. A huge ramp of earth led down to the foundation where the truck holding the Dumpster idled. There was a resounding crash as the tons of rubble dropped into the steel vessel.

Stephanie caught up with her. “Hey, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

“I feel weird,” Rune told her.

“Why?”

“They just destroyed the whole place. And it was so … familiar. I knew it so well from the movie and now it’s gone. How could they do it?”

Below them, a second bulldozer lifted a huge steel-mesh blanket and set it on top of a piece of exposed rock. There was a painful hoot of a steam whistle above their
heads. The bulldozer backed away. Then two whistles. A minute later the explosives were detonated. A jarring slam under their feet. Smoke. The metal blanket shifted a few feet. Three whistle blasts—the all-clear—sounded.

Rune blinked. Tears formed. “It’s not the way it should be.”

She stooped and picked up a bit of broken marble from the bank’s facade—pinkish and gray, the colors of a trout, smooth on one side. She looked at it for a long time, then put it in her pocket.

“It’s not the way it should be at all,” she repeated.

“Let’s go,” Stephanie urged.

The bulldozer lifted the mesh away and began to dig out mouthfuls of the shattered rock.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN