Desperate Measures

19

Wearing the grungy blue coat, Pittman stooped his shoulders and tried to look as defeated as he felt, making himself walk unsteadily up Lexington Avenue. The sun rose above buildings. Traffic increased. Horns blared.

Pittman wanted it to seem that he was oblivious to anything but objects along the sidewalk. Trying to appear off balance, he turned from Lexington onto Twenty-sixth Street. He stooped and pretended to pick up a coin, looked at his palm with satisfaction, then put the pretend coin into his dingy coat.

He risked a glance ahead of him and saw some slight commotion in the next block between Park Avenue and Madison, near Madison Square Park. The dome lights on a stationary police car were flashing. The bodies would have been removed by now. The investigation of the crime scene would be concluding.

Burt. Sickened by what had happened last night, Pittman continued to waver along Twenty-sixth Street. When he came to some garbage cans, he lifted their lids and snooped inside. He moved on. He came to other garbage cans and inspected them as well, ignoring the smell. Then he came to a Dumpster. Trying to look awkward, he struggled up the side of the bin, poked around in it, clutched his gym bag, lurched down, and reversed his direction, heading back toward Lexington. He was far enough away that the police would not have noticed him, especially as disheveled as he looked. After all, he thought caustically, the homeless are invisible.