The Pusher

Chapter Fifteen

They caught Dickie Collins on Christmas Eve.

They caught him as he was coming out of church, where he had just lighted a candle for his dead grandmother.

They took him to the Squad Room of the 87th Precinct, and four detectives surrounded him there. One of the detectives was Peter Byrnes. The others were Havilland, Meyer and Willis.

"What's your name?" Willis asked.

"Dickie Collins. Richard."

"What aliases do you go by?" Havilland asked.

"None."

"Ever own a gun?" Meyer asked.

"No. Never."

"Know Aníbal Hernandez?" Byrnes asked.

"The name sounds familiar."

"Did you know him, or didn't you?"

"Yeah, I knew him, I guess. I knew lots of kids in the neighborhood."

"When did you move?"

"Coupla months ago."

"Why?"

"My old man got a new job. I go where he goes."

"Did you want to move?"

"Makes no difference. I'm a free agent. I travel where I want to, no matter where I live. What's all the questions for? What did I do?"

"What were you doing on the night of December 17th?"

"How do I know? When the hell was that, anyway?"

"A week ago today."

"I don't remember."

"Were you with Hernandez?"

"I don't remember."

"Start trying to remember."

"No, I wasn't with Hernandez. What was that, a Saturday night?"

"It was a Sunday night."

"No, I wasn't with him."

"Where were you?"

"In church."

"What?"

"I go to church every Sunday night. I light candles for my grandmother."

"How long did you stay in church?"

"About an hour. I say a coupla prayers, too."

"From what time to what time?"

"From about… from about ten to eleven."

"And then what'd you do?"

"I drifted around."

"Who saw you drifting?"

"Nobody. What do I need witnesses for? You trying to hang the Hernandez kill on me?"

"What makes you think he was killed?"

"He hung himself," Collins said.

"Okay, but what made you call it a kill?"

"A suicide's a kill, ain't it?"

"Why should we try to hang a suicide on you?"

"How do I know? What else you got me in here for, if not that? You're asking questions about that night, ain't you? You're asking me if I knew Annabelle, ain't you?"

"You did know him."

"Sure, I knew him."

"From the neighborhood or from the Sea Scouts?"

"What Sea Scouts?"

"In Riverhead."

"Oh, you mean the Junior Navals. That ain't the Sea Scouts. Yeah, yeah."

"Where'd you know Mm from?"

"I used to say hello when I lived in the neighborhood. Then, when I met him at the Navals, we got a little friendly."

"Why'd you say you guessed you knew him? If you got friendly, then you knew him."

"Okay, I knew him. Is that a crime?"

"Why'd you go to the Navals?"

"I didn't belong. I only went to watch the marching. I like to watch guys march."

"You'll do a lot of marching where you're going," Havilland said.

"Yeah, you got to send me there first, cop. I still ain't heard no charge. Are you booking or just looking?"

"You're a pusher, aren't you, Collins?"

"You're dreaming."

"We've got three kids who made a buy from you. One is ready to identify you."

"Yeah? What's his name?"

"Hemingway."

"What're the other two called? Sinclair Lewis and William Faulkner?"

"You read a lot, Collins?"

"Enough."

"This kid Hemingway doesn't read. He's a junkie. He bought a sixteenth of heroin from you on the afternoon of December 20th. One of our detectives nabbed him right after he made the buy."

"So that's why I was being fol…" Collins cut himself short.

"What?"

"I didn't say nothing. If your Hemingway made a buy, he didn't get it from me."

"He said he did. He said it came from you."

"I don't know what a sixteenth of H looks like."

"Did you know Hernandez was a junkie?"

"Yeah."

"He ever shoot up with you?"

"No."

"You never saw him shoot up?"

"No."

"How do you know he was a junkie?"

"Word gets around."

"Ever see him with any other junkies?"

"Sure."

"Who?"

"I don't know their names."

"Ever see him with a junkie named Larry Byrnes?" Byrnes asked.

Collins blinked.

"I said Larry Byrnes," Byrnes repeated.

"Never heard of him," Collins said.

"Think hard. He's my son."

"No kidding? I didn't think cops had junkie sons."

"Did you happen to see my son on the night of December 17th?"

"I wouldn't know your son from a hole in the wall."

"How about the morning of December 18th?"

"I still don't know him, night or morning. How would I know him?"

"He knew Hernandez."

"Lots of guys knew Hernandez. Hernandez was a pusher, didn't you know that?" Collins paused. "Hell, he even pushed at the Navals."

"We knew it. How'd you know it?"

"I seen him sell a couple of times."

"To whom?"

"I don't remember. Listen, you think I know the names of every junkie in the neighborhood? I never fooled with that crap myself."

"You fooled with it on the twentieth, Collins. Two days after we found Hernandez dead, you were fooling with it."

"This Hemingway kid used to be one of Hernandez' customers."

"Yeah? Maybe he bought that sixteenth from Hernandez' ghost, then."

"He bought it from you."

"You're gonna have a hell of a time proving that, cop."

"Maybe not. We've had a man following you for the past few days."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So why didn't he pinch me? Listen, you find any stuff on me when you pulled me in? What am I here for, huh? I want a lawyer."

"You're here on suspicion of murder," Byrnes said.

"You mean…" Again, Collins stopped short.

"What, Collins?"

"Nothing. Hernandez hung himself. Just try pinning that one on me."

"Hernandez died of an overdose."

"Yeah? So he was careless."

"Who put that rope around his neck, Collins?"

"Maybe your son did, Lieutenant. How about that?"

"How do you know my rank?"

"What?"

"If you don't know my son, and if you don't know anything about my son, how the hell do you know my rank?"

"One of your bulls called you Lieutenant. What do you think?"

"Nobody's called me anything since you got here, Collins. Now how about it?"

"I guessed. You look like you got leadership qualities, so I figured you were the boss. Okay?"

"Larry says he knows you," Byrnes lied.

"Who's Larry?"

"My son."

"Yeah? Lots of guys know me who I don't know. I'm popular."

"Why? Because you're pushing junk?"

"Only thing I ever pushed was my sister's baby carriage. Get off that kick, cop. It leads nowhere."

"Let's try another kick, Collins. Let's try cards."

"What about them? Want to play some?"

"You ever play cards?"

"Sure, I do."

"You ever play with a kid named Batman Di Luca?"

"Sure."

"Who else was in that game?"

"Which game?"

"The night you played."

"I played cards with Batman a lot. He can't play to save his ass. I always win."

"What's a gunsel, Collins?"

"Huh?"

"A gunsel."

"Oh." Again, Collins blinked. "A guy who's hired to wash somebody."

"Pronounce it."

"Gunsel. Say, what is this, an English class?"

"When did you find out what a gunsel was?"

"I always knew."

"You found out that night of the card game, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't. I always knew."

"Which night, Collins?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew what a gunsel was before that night of the card game. Which night are we talking about?"

"The… the last time we played, I guess."

"And when was that?"

"About… about two weeks ago."

"And who played?"

"Me, Batman, and another guy."

"Who was the third guy?"

"I don't remember."

"Batman says you brought him down."

"Me? No, it was Batman. I think he was a friend of Batman's."

"He wasn't, and he isn't. Why are you protecting him, Collins?"

"I ain't protecting nobody. I don't even know who the guy was. Listen, I'd still like to know what you're driving at. You guys think—"

"Shut up!"

"Well, I got a right—"

"What happened on that night of the card game?"

"Nothing."

"Who first mentioned the word 'gunsel'?"

"I never heard it mentioned."

"Then why'd you mispronounce it?"

"I didn't mispronounce it."

"You pronounced it correctly?"

"Sure, I did."

"How'd you pronounce it?"

"Gunsel."

"When was this?"

"The night we…" Collins stopped. "Anytime I pronounced it."

"You said it wasn't mentioned on the night of the game."

"I said I never heard it. Maybe it was mentioned, how should I know?"

"If it wasn't mentioned, where'd you get the nickname 'Gonzo'?"

"Gonzo? Who's got a nickname Gonzo? Everybody calls me Dickie."

"Except those three kids who came to make the buy from you."

"Oh? Well, that explains it. You've got the wrong guy. You're looking for a Gonzo. My name is Dickie. Collins. Hey, maybe that's where you slipped up. Collins and Gonzo sound a little—"

"All right, let's cut the crap," Havilland said sharply.

"Well, I…"

"We know what happened at the card game. We know all about the gunsel routine and the way you goofed and called it 'gonzo' and the way it brought down the house, and the way you were called Gonzo the rest of the night Batman told us all about it, and Batman'll swear to it. We figure the rest like this, pal. We figure you used the Gonzo tag when you took over Hernandez' trade because you didn't figure it was wise to identify your own name with your identity as a pusher. Okay, so these kids were looking for Gonzo, and they found him, and one of them bought a sixteenth from you, and he'll swear to that, too. Now how about the rest?"

"What rest?"

"How about the cop you shot?"

"What?"

"How about that rope you put around Hernandez' neck?"

"What?"

"How about the slash job you did on Maria?"

"Listen, listen, I didn't—"

"How about shoving that old lady down the airshaft?"

"Me? Holy Jesus, I didn't do—"

"Which one did you do?"

"None of them! Holy Jesus, what do you take me for?"

"You shot that cop, Gonzo!"

"No, I didn't."

"We know you did. He told us."

"He told you nothing."

"Who?"

"This cop, whoever you're talking about. He couldn't have said it was me because I had nothing to do with it."

"You've got a lot to do with all of this, Gonzo."

"Stop calling me Gonzo. My name's Dickie."

"Okay, Dickie. Why'd you kill Hernandez? To get his two-bit business?"

"Don't be stupid!"

"Then why?" Byrnes shouted. "To drag my son in on it? How'd Larry's fingerprints get on that syringe?"

"How do I know? What syringe?"

"The syringe found with Hernandez."

"I didn't know there was one."

"There was. How'd you swing it?"

"I didn't."

"Were you trying to frame my son for this?"

"Stop harping on your son. Your son can go drop dead, for all I care."

"Who's the man that calls me, Gonzo?"

"I didn't know anybody called you Gonzo."

"Look, you rotten punk…"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Somebody called to tell me about my son and that syringe. Somebody's got something on his mind. Was he the guy at that card game?"

"I don't know who that guy was."

"The same guy who called me, isn't he?"

"I don't know who calls you."

"The guy who helped you kill Hernandez, isn't he?"

"I didn't kill anybody."

"And Maria, and the old lady…"

"I didn't kill anybody."

"You killed a cop," Willis snapped.

"Is he dead?" Collins asked.

The room was suddenly very quiet.

"What's wrong with that?" Collins said.

"You tell us, pal."

"You told me a cop got shot. You didn't say he was dead."

"No, we didn't."

"Okay, so how was I supposed to know about the goddamn bull? You didn't say he was dead, only that he got shot."

"We didn't say he was a bull, either," Byrnes said.

"What?"

"We said a cop. What makes you think he's a detective?"

"I don't know, I just thought so. From the way you were talking."

"His name is Steve Carella," Willis said. "You shot him on Friday, Collins, and he's still fighting for his life. He told us you shot him. Why don't you tell us the rest of it, and make it easy for yourself?"

"There's nothing to tell. I'm clean. If your cop dies, you ain't got a thing on me. I ain't got a gun, and I wasn't carrying no junk. So do me something."

"We're gonna do you a lot, pal," Havilland said. "In about three seconds flat, I'm gonna beat the crap out of you."

"Go ahead. See what that gets you. I ain't involved in none of this. Your cop is crazy. I didn't shoot him, and I got nothing to do with Hernandez, either. You going to build a friendship at the Junior Navals into a federal case?"

"No," Willis said, "but we're going to build your footprint into a murder case, that's for sure."

"My what?"

"The footprint we found near Carella's body," Willis lied. "We're going to check it against every pair of shoes you own. If it matches up you're—"

"We were standing on stone!" Collins shouted.

And that was it.

He blinked, realizing it was too late to turn back now, realizing they had him cold. "Okay," he said, "I shot him. But only because he was going to take me in. I didn't want to get tied in with this other stuff. I had nothing to do with killing Hernandez or his sister. Nothing. And I never saw that old lady in my life."

"Who killed them?" Byrnes asked.

Collins was silent for a moment.

"Douglas Patt," he said at last.

Willis was already starting for his coat. "No," Byrnes called, "I want him. What's his address, Collins?"