Hawkins had nodded awkwardly and put out his hand, but Adam ignored the hand. He threw his arms around Hawkins, stretched his body and kissed Hawkins first on one cheek, then on the other, then he just hugged him, while Levy watched them with tears running down his face.

3

Chapter 3

Hawkins held his hands over the basin on the table in the hall. Old man Oshevsky saw that they were black and looked up blindly.

“Who’re you?”

“Roger Hawkins, Mr. Oshevsky.”

“Roger Hawkins the cop?”

Hawkins nodded.

“Where were you last night, cop?”

It took him a little time to remember, then he said wearily, “I was at a party, Mr. Oshevsky.”

Oshevsky’s cheeks turned purple. “Adam Levy’s getting stabbed and you’re at a party!”

Behind him in the line, Sam Arkin yelled, “Shut up, Oshevsky. How could he know?”

“Feh!” Oshevsky yelled back, holding the pitcher away from Hawkins. Hawkins kept his hands over the basin.

“Pour the water, Mr. Oshevsky,” he said, “or I’ll go into the house with dirty hands.”

The old man looked up at Hawkins while the others in line waited to see what would happen.

“It’s getting late,” Hawkins said, gently.

“Feh” the old man said again, but he poured the water over Hawkins’s hands, handed him a towel to dry them with, and Hawkins went into Levy’s apartment.

The place was hot and crowded and smelled of onions and smoked fish. Used paper plates littered tables, radiator tops, and windowsills. Most of the men in the room had beards and all wore hats. Hawkins took a black yarmulke from a pile on the table at the door and pushed it down over his hair. Eli Pinchik was leaning against the far wall of the foyer watching the crowd. The top of a small liquor bottle stuck out of his jacket pocket and his eyes were swollen and bloodshot. He saw Hawkins and grabbed his arm. “You didn’t come to the funeral. Your best friend dies and you don’t help bury him. Why?”

“Some of them wouldn’t want me there, Eli.”

Pinchik made a dry spitting gesture and looked through the arch at the men. “Because they’re schmucks, that’s why. . . .” He raised his voice, “Schmucks!” A few turned around but most ignored him. Pinchik sobbed and pulled out his bottle. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”

“Not till I see Levy . . .”

“I’ll be at the Union Dairy,” Pinchik said, “we gotta talk.” He went out the door and Hawkins looked over the other men’s heads for Levy.