A Matter of Conviction

DI PACE: Well, you’ll get used to it, Danny. Your mother and I think it’s best for us to—

DANNY: I saw a beating there once.

DI PACE: When was this?

DANNY: When Grandpa died. When we went to the funeral. I was walking with Christina. We were going to get some ice cream pops.

DI PACE: You never told me this.

DANNY: They were chasing this colored kid. A whole bunch of them were after him. He tried to climb onto a car that stopped for a light. He tried to get away from them that way. But the car had no running board, and he hung to the door handle when the car started, and lifted his feet off the street, trying to hang on. But the car sped up, and he dropped off, and they surrounded him. They hit him with an ash can. I can remember him laying in the street, and the kids kept lifting up this ash can and throwing it down on his back, and the colored guy just kept laying there with his hands covering the back of his neck while that ash can went up and down, up and down, passing from hand to hand. Then the cops came.

DI PACE: You never told me this.

DANNY: And later, when I was walking with Christina, we were behind one of the kids, and he said, “Man, did you see me hit that jig? I musta split his head wide open with that ash can.” That was what he said. And he laughed. And the kid with him laughed, too. That was when Grandpa died. We went back to the funeral parlor then, and Grandpa was laying in the coffin. I began crying, don’t you remember? I didn’t cry for Grandpa up until that time. But I cried then.

DI PACE: I didn’t see you crying, Danny. I didn’t know my father meant that much to you.

DANNY: Pop, I don’t like Harlem.

DI PACE: Well, I haven’t got a job here any more, Danny. And this shoe store...

DANNY: Pop, do we have to move to Harlem? Pop, I really don’t like it. I’ve got friends here and—

DI PACE: You’ll make new friends there.

DANNY: I don’t want to be friends with kids who hit a colored guy with an ash can.

DI PACE: All the kids in Harlem aren’t like that.

DANNY: Pop, listen to me. Can you stop working on that bush for a minute? Can you listen to me?

DI PACE: What is it, Danny?

DANNY: I don’t want to live in Harlem, Pop. Please. I don’t want to live there.

DI PACE: It’s not as easy as that, Danny. I’ve lost my job.

DANNY: Well, for Christ’s sake, why’d you lose it?

DI PACE: I don’t like that kind of language.

DANNY: I’m sorry, but why’d you have to lose your job? Why couldn’t you hang on to it? What’s the matter with you, Pop?

DI PACE: They cut production, Danny. It’s not my fault.

DANNY: I don’t want to live in Harlem!

DI PACE: (with some anger): You’ll live where we have to live!

DANNY: I don’t want to live there! I don’t want to live where guys—

DI PACE: Danny, we’re moving and that’s it. I don’t want to hear anything more about it.

DANNY: Pop, please, don’t you see? I couldn’t live there. I’d be... I’d be...

DI PACE: You’d be what?

DANNY: I’d... I’d...

(He turns and runs out of the yard. His father stares after him for a moment and then goes back to tying his bush.)

“He never finished the sentence?” Hank asked.

“No,” Di Pace said. “But the other night, thinking about it, I knew what he was trying to tell me.”

“And what was that?”

“He was trying to say he’d be afraid. Afraid.” Di Pace paused. “And I wouldn’t hear him.”

Eleven

With the trial only three days away, with his face still covered with adhesive plaster even though he’d been released from the hospital, Hank received a call at the office that Friday.

“Mr. Bell, this is Lieutenant Canotti.”

“Hello,” Hank said.

“I’ve got that report you wanted.”

“The report? What report?”

“On those knives.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I’d almost forgotten.”

“What’s the matter, Bell? Losing your pep? You were ready to go in to your boss on this, remember?”

“I remember.”

“So where’s the fighting assistant district attorney now?” Canotti paused. “That street beating take the starch out of you?”

“I’m busy, Canotti,” Hank said. “Make it short, and make it sweet, and cut the bull. I don’t know you well enough to start a feud.”

Canotti chuckled and then said, “We ran a lot of tests on these knives. No good latent prints because they got smeared when this Rugiello girl handled them. But there was something else that was interesting. At least, I think it was interesting.”

“What was that?”

“Well, you’ll see when you get the report. I’m sending a copy over together with the knives. Don’t forget to sign for receipt, will you?”

“When will this be?” Hank asked.

“I’m sending them over right now. The trial ain’t till Monday, am I right?”

“That’s right.”

“Sure. So you got all weekend to think about it.” Canotti chuckled again. “I hope it don’t upset your case, Mr. Bell.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you read the report. Like I said, it’s pretty interesting.”

“Okay, I’ll read the report.”