Jimmy the Kid

Dyer Avenue, on the west side of midtown Manhattan, has almost no true existence at all. It runs eight blocks, from Thirty-fourth Street to Forty-second Street, and contains no houses, no shops, no churches or schools or factories. Lined with the blank walls of warehouse backs and overpass supports, it is partially roofed by ramps leading to the upper levels of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, and is used exclusively to funnel traffic coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel. There's no reason to park there, and in fact no parking is permitted.

Which was what the mounted policeman told them, ten minutes later. Coming up on Dortmunder's side of the car, he leaned down beside the neck of his horse and said, "There's no parking here, fella."

Dortmunder looked up and back, and saw this policeman's face suspended in midair. Then he saw it was a policeman's head with a horse's body. He just stared.

"Didn't you hear me, fella?" the policeman said.

Dortmunder reared back, as best he could in the Renault, closed one eye, and finally managed to get the right perspective. "Oh," he said. "Right. Yeah." Nodding to the policeman, he turned to tell Murch to drive them away from there.

"Just a minute," the policeman said, and when Dortmunder looked at him again he was climbing down off his horse. Now what? Dortmunder thought, and he waited while the policeman got himself down onto the blacktop and leaned his head close to the window. He gave Dortmunder a hard look, and then gave Murch a hard look. He also sniffed loudly, and Dortmunder realized the police. man thought they were drunk. He sniffed again, and wrinkled his face up, and said, "What's that stink?"

"His cigar," Dortmunder said. "I told him it stunk," he said, and watched the Caddy go by. Silver-gray Cadillac limousine, whip antenna, gray-uniformed chauffeur, kid in the backseat, Jersey plate number WAX 361. Dortmunder sighed.

"Urp," Murch said. Then, being very hasty, he said, "Okay, officer, I'll move it now." He even shifted into gear.

"Just hold on there," the policeman said. The Cadillac went on up to Forty-second Street and turned right. The policeman, leading his horse, walked slowly in his tight riding boots around the front of the Renault. He studied the car and the license plate, and frowned through the windshield at the two men inside there. Murch gave him a big wide smile, and Dortmunder just looked at him.

There wasn't room for the horse between the left side of the Renault and the brick wall of the overpass support, so the policeman left it standing broadside in front of the car.

Still smiling broadly at the policeman, Murch said out of the corner of his mouth, "What if he asks for license and registration?"

"Maybe there's a registration in the glove compartment."

"Yeah, but I don't have a license."

"Wonderful," Dortmunder said, and the policeman leaned down to look in Murch's window and say, "What are you parked here for, anyway?"

Murch said, "I got a dizzy spell coming through the tunnel." Out front, the horse's tail, which was on Dortmunder's side of the car, lifted up and the horse began to relieve himself.

The policeman said, "Dizzy spell, huh? Let's see your-"

"Your horse," Dortmunder said loudly.

The policeman looked past Murch at Dortmunder. "What?"

"Your horse," Dortmunder said, "is shitting on our car."

The policeman leaned in and looked through the windshield at his horse. "Son of a bitch," he said. He removed his head from the car, went around front, grabbed the reins, and led the horse away from the car.

"Get us out of here," Dortmunder said.

"Right." Murch put the Renault in gear again and angled out away from the curb and around the policeman and his horse. Moving slowly by, he called to the policeman, "Thank you, officer. I feel a lot better now."

The horse apparently preferred walking to standing still when relieving itself, and was now walking slowly up Dyer Avenue, plopping contentedly behind itself, and ignoring the policeman's efforts to make it stop. "Yeah yeah," the policeman said, nodding in distraction at Murch, and to the horse said, "Stop there, Abner, stop there."

Up at Forty-second Street the light was against them. They stopped, and Dortmunder said, "Goddam it to hell and goddam it back again."

"So we'll try it again Friday," Murch said.

"The horse'll shit in the window next time."

The light turned green and Murch made a left. "You want me to take you home?"

"Might as well."

At Tenth Avenue the light was against them. Murch said, "I threw out the cigar, did you notice?"

"I told you it stunk."

"Friday we'll wait around the corner on Forty-second. You can park there."

"Sure," Dortmunder said.

The light remained red. Murch looked thoughtful. He said, "Listen, you in a hurry?"

"In a hurry for what?"

"Let's take a little drive, okay?"

Dortmunder shrugged. "Do what you want."

"Fine," Murch said. The light turned green and he headed up Tenth Avenue.