The Men from the Boys by Ed Lacy

Author:Ed Lacy [Lacy, Ed]
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, OCR-Editing
Amazon: 1596542306
Publisher: MacFadden
Published: 1957-03-14T23:00:00+00:00

Four

Whoever said youth is the best medicine had the right dope—it was remarkable how Lawrence had recovered from the beating in less than twenty-four hours. Of course he was still in bed, but his voice was good and they’d taken off some of the bandages on his face—I could see his blackened eyes, his lips and scrawny neck. The doc told me he hadn’t found any more internal injuries and it would be at least a month before Lawrence would be able to walk out of the hospital.

As I saw the sparkle in his eyes when he saw me, and as I sat beside the bed and told him what I’d done, even my ideas about Bob Smith, I felt sorry for the boy. Maybe it was that skinny neck between all the bandages of his chin and chest. I decided once and for all I’d talk the kid out of his silly box-top ideas.

The boy listened without interrupting, finally said, “I don’t know, Marty. As you say, the big thing is the link, and what possible connection can there be between Lande and the top crime syndicate? Somehow, I agree with Lieutenant Ash— it doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure, it don’t make a bit of sense—now. But it’s something big, all right. I’m being tailed. That means soon as I left Lande this morning he got on the phone, yelled—to somebody. Somebody big because hiring a tail is an expensive deal.”

The eyes nodded. “Be careful, Marty, although I know you can handle anything that comes along. I can’t understand Ash’s not working with you, but as you say he must be busy. Anything new on the Anderson killing?”

“Haven’t had a chance to read a paper or hear the radio. Look, Lawrence, when you get out of here, I want you to promise me something—that you’ll leave the auxiliary force and forget about taking the police exam.”

Now his eyes actually blazed. “Why? Because I was ambushed you must think I’m not tough enough to be a real cop!” The words came out hard, almost curt.

“Lawrence, stop talking like you’re a wide-eyed twelve-year-old. Know the true definition of ‘tough’? It means you’re scared. The tougher the joker, the more the coward. I found that out for the first time the other night—the hard way. So let’s stop talking like children about being tough or brave—that’s for the birds. I want you to forget trying to be a cop because you’re an intelligent boy and you’ll only break your heart. I tell you to forget it just as I’d tell you to forget any other lousy job.”

“This is new—Marty the cop-hater!” he said, mocking me, his eyes sort of smiling at me above the bandages.

“I don’t hate cops, it’s only that we’re called upon to do an impossible job. Kids rob because they’re bored, thrill-happy, want a bang—but mostly because they’re broke. So you stick them in jail and they come out broke, and other kids continue to be broke, and it goes on and on.

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