Ceremony

Chapter 4

Hummer looked about seventeen. He must have spent a half hour getting his look right before he came downtown to hang out. His pale tan Timberland boots were carefully half laced and the cuffs of the jeans were carefully caught inside the loose uppers. Despite the cold rain, his bombardier jacket was open, the fur collar up, the collar of his plaid shirt turned up inside the jacket collar. There were, three other boys and two girls with Hummer. They were all dressed with the same careful pretense of sloppiness. Suburban tough. I always figured I could take a guy wearing eighty-dollar boots and a crocodile on his sweater, but that's probably just a form of prejudice. On the other hand, I was wearing a leather trench coat with epaulets and a belt. I felt like Joel McCrea in Foreign Correspondent.

I said, "You Hummer?" He looked up at me slowly, took a drag on his cupped cigarette, and said, "Who wants to know?"

"Now there you go," I said. "You've been watching Starsky and Hutch again and stealing all their good lines."

Hummer said, "Yeah."

And I said, "Yeah, you're Hummer? Or yeah, you been watching Starsky and Hutch?"

"What's it to you?"

I looked at one of the girls-she was slim and blond and wore high-heeled black boots and tapered jeans and a down vest over a black turtleneck sweater. She had a plaid umbrella folded up, and she leaned on it like a cane. "This is slow going, isn't it?" I said.

She shrugged and said, "Maybe."

Two of the boys looked at each other and snickered. I never cared much for being snickered at. I took a slow breath. "I'm trying to locate April Kyle-man any of you help me on that?"

"April May," the girl with the umbrella said.

"April will," one of the snickerers said, and they all laughed without letting it really out.

"Whyn't you get lost, man?" Hummer said. "We ain't got nothing to say about April."

"Hummer," I said, "just because you haven't had your growth spurt yet doesn't mean you're too little to hit."

"You hit me, and my old man will sue your ass," Hummer said.

"I imagine so," I said. "Any of you care if April Kyle's in trouble?"

"What kind of trouble?"

"Grown-up trouble," I said. "She's got herself in- volved with people who will beat her up for a dollar and kill her for five." "How do you know?" It was the girl with the umbrella talking.

I thought about it for a minute. April's reputation didn't have anything to lose. "She's tricking," I said, "in the Combat Zone. That means a pimp, that means the real possibility of abuse, maybe dying."

"I told her she should stop doing it free," Hummer said.

"You start her hooking?" I said. I was looking straight into his face.

"Hey, man, no way. I just used to kid her, is all. She got into trouble, she done it on her own."

"You got any idea where she's living?"

"You a cop?" the umbrella girl said.

"I know it's corny as hell," I said, "but I'm a private eye. Couldn't you tell by my leather trench coat?"

"How do we know that?" Hummer said.

"Besides the leather trench coat? I could show you my license. One of your buddies could read it to you."

One of the other boys said, "Hey, you cant' a gun?"

"Knowing I was going to talk with you toughies, I thought I'd better."

"What kind you got?"

"Smith and Wesson," I said. "Detective special." I'd found a subject that interested them. "Thirty-eight caliber. Sam Spade autograph model."

"Hey, lemme see it," the kid said.

"No. I'm not here to play guns. I'm trying to find out how to get hold of April Kyle."

"She had a friend in Boston," the umbrella girl said. "Hey, I said we're not telling him nothing," Hummer said. "That goes for you too, Michelle." I took hold of Hummer's upper arm with my right hand and squeezed it. He tried to flex up his biceps to counteract me, but I was much stronger than he was. From the feel of his upper arm a lot of people were.

"Hummer," I said, "be quiet."

He tried to yank his arm away. I tightened the squeeze a little more. The fixed expression of tolerant superiority began to dissolve. What replaced it looked a lot like discomfort.

"What's the friend's name?" I said to Michelle.

"Come on, man," Hummer said. He pulled at my grip with his free hand.

"You mind if I discuss the name of April's friend?" I said.

He kept working on my grip without much progress. I squeezed a little more.

"Ow, man, shit-you're busting my goddamned arm."

"You mind if Michelle tells me stuff?"

"No, ow, no, go ahead, man-tell him, Michelle-let go."

I eased up on the squeeze, but still held his arm.

"Michelle?"

"Amy Gurwitz," she said. "She used to live here, but she moved to Boston."

"Parents move?"

"No, just her. They threw her out."

"Address?"

"I don't know."

Hummer was trying to tug his arm loose.

"Anybody else?" I said.

All of them were silent. The arm squeeze had scared them. I had the secret to dealing with the difficult teen years. Violate their civil rights a little. Cause some pain. Bully them a bit. No such thing as a bad boy.

"No other friends?" I said.

They all shook their heads again, except Hummer, who was still trying to get his arm loose. I let him succeed. All of them were quiet. Hummer sat with his head down, rubbing his arm.

"You think you're pretty tough, huh?" he said. "Come out and push around a bunch of kids."

"I am pretty tough, Hummer. But not because I pushed you around. l pushed you around because I had to. There's people can push me around. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Hummer didn't look up. None of the other kids looked at him. There was nothing else to say. I walked away, back toward the center of town, where I'd left my car. On the way I looked for a puppy to kick.