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By Root 473 0

the pimp's wristwatch. It was thin as a dime, with a dark–blue face and little diamonds all around the rim—a thing of beauty. He looked down at the pimp, who said, "Hey, my man, you best be careful with that watch. It cost more than you make in a year!" The cop looked thoughtfully at the watch for a minute, like he was trying to figure out how it could cost all that cash. Then he slammed it face down on the desk counter. The crystal cracked and little pieces went flying all over the place. The pimp screamed "Hey man!" like it was his head that got cracked. The sergeant looked at the pimp, said, "One man's watch—broken," and wrote it down on his sheet. His expression never changed. I wasn't worried about them doing that to my Rolex. Like I said, times have changed. Now they'd probably steal it.

It was almost six by the time I was ready to leave. The meeting was for nine, so the timing was just about right. I brought Pansy back downstairs and fixed things so she'd have food and water for at least a couple of weeks if I didn't come right back. I left the back door open a crack so she could get to the roof herself. The open door wouldn't help a burglar much—he'd have to be a human fly to get in the door, and a magician to get out.

I stopped at four different self–serve gas stations along Atlantic Avenue. The Plymouth has a fifty–gallon tank—if I filled it up at one place, they might remember me. Just before I made the turn onto the Inter–Boro I saw a gray stone building on my right. The windows were barred and there was barbed wire on the roof. The door looked like the entrance to Attica. The sign on the front said it was a Day Care Center.

It took less than an hour for me to finally get to the old spot in Forest Park. It was still light enough for the joggers and dog–walkers. I drove through the entire park a couple of times, looking for some other spots to park—and for people looking for me. I finally parked the Plymouth just off the road, opened the trunk, and put on the old raincoat and leather gloves I always keep in there. Then I changed the rear tire closest to the road, taking my time. It was a while before I was finished. I put everything back into the trunk except for the tire iron and the gloves, which I tossed into the back seat.

By the time I settled down to wait, the only thing that didn't belong in all that greenery was me.

37

WHAT WAS left of the weak sun filtered through the thick trees, making patterns of light and dark all around the Plymouth. By the time the shadows won the war I had stopped listening to my tapes. Headlights shot through the park, cars motored by. Once in a while I'd see a bicycle or even a late jogger wearing reflective foil on his warmup suit. I ground each cigarette out against the car door, putting the butts inside a plastic bag. No point in telling the cops how long I'd been waiting, if it came to that.

It was almost nine when I heard the whine of a car kept too long in a lower gear. The little BMW tore around the far curve and headed right at me. The redhead was running a pair of driving lights on the front bumper—the white light blasted into my windshield as she slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop almost on top of me. As soon as I heard her engine shut off, I started the Plymouth. I heard her door slam and I watched her walk the way women do in high heels on a tricky surface. She was close enough for me to see her face when I pulled the lever into gear and started to creep forward. Her legs were spread wide, anchored to the ground, hands on hips. Her mouth was open to say something, but I pulled past the BMW and stopped, foot on the brake. She walked toward me again, and I pulled forward some more.

She got it. The redhead walked back to her car. I waited until she started it again; then I pulled out slowly so she could follow, heading for the better spot I'd found before. The Plymouth calmly drove through the park; the BMW stuck to my bumper, her damned driving lights flooding the rearview mirrors. I turned the inside mirror backward and made two tours through the