took her, a
took her, a really huge son of a bitch. Her door’s all over the living room. Thank God they didn’t see me. I’ve called the police . . . ”
Something like an electrical current jolted Harris. All of a sudden he had a hard time breathing. On the other hand, he didn’t feel drunk anymore.
He told Mr. Crenshaw what he’d heard the old man say. “Call the police again, tell them what I saw.” Then he ran back down the fire escape.
Now, as he reached the footpath opposite the Met, the point where he’d started his circuit of the Great Lawn, he had no illusions that he wasn’t drunk. Keeping his balance while he ran was an interesting effort, and whenever he stood still, his surroundings spun slowly counterclockwise. At least he was alert.
No sign of the three guys or Gaby. Maybe the old man was talking about the really great lawn he had in front of his house in Queens or something. Harris cursed and turned off the footpath, crossing through a fringe of trees onto the grass of the Great Lawn itself. It spread out