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But that isn't the way it happened。
The street was impossible。 The crowd was anxious for the kill now； anxious for the die to be cast either way。 They didn't much give a damn at this moment whether or not Miranda would kill the priest and the police lieutenant and the missioner and the mayor and the governor and even the president。 They didn't care whether or not a cop on one of the rooftops would fire a lucky shot and catch Miranda splank between the eyeballs。 They only wanted it to be over and done with； either way。 And so the crowd was restless； and a little mean； and hot； and unfortable。 It was a crowd which was beginning to resent this tie game which had run into fourteen innings。 The tenth inning had been a treat and the eleventh a distinct bonus and the twelfth a lovely dividend； but the thirteenth brought on thoughts of other things to be done。 Watching a game was great fun … but life was real and life was earnest； and life was going on outside that ball park。
So the crowd resisted the shoving of Zip and Cooch； and occasionally the crowd shoved back at the two boys and cursed a bit； and did everything possible to make the task of locating China unimaginably difficult。
In fifteen minutes' time； Zip and Cooch gave up the search。
It was just as well that they had； because China wasn't in the neighborhood any longer。 China had gone over to the park where she had sat by the lake and watched the people in the rowboats。 That's where China was。 She cried a little； yes。 In the park； by the lake； watching the rowboats。
The sailor？ Did he wander back to the street？ Did he amble over to the park？
The sailor went to bed with a prostitute named Marge。 Marge was a practiced whore； and she pleased the sailor immensely。 The sailor paid her fifteen dollars； which was nearly every cent he had。 Then he walked to the subway； got on a train； went downtown to where his ship was docked； started up the gangway； saluted the ensign on the fantail； saluted the officer of the deck； went to the rear partment； took off his whites； put on a pair of dungarees and a chambray shirt； climbed into his sack； and went to sleep until the loud…speaker amidships announced； 〃Chow down。〃 He ate a good dinner； saw a movie on the boat deck that evening； went to bed about eleven o'clock； and sailed for San Diego the next morning。 He never saw the Puerto Rican girl named China again in his life。 He probably went back to Fletcher； Colorado； eventually。 Maybe she flashed into his mind every now and then … like once every twelve years。 Maybe he remembered her dimly and wondered what had bee of her。 Maybe； married to Corrine and running an insurance business； he sporadically thought of China in an idealized way； the most beautiful girl in the world； exotic； that day in a strange city； far away； I wonder what became of her； I wonder。
She sat in the park and wept a bit and watched the rowboats。
You are God； and you can do it any way you want to。 You can even get them married the next day before his ship sails。 Anything you want to do。 All the possibilities are there。 And you're God； and there isn't anyone who's going to slap your wrist； no matter how you do it。
But God； man； that is the way it happened。
Steve Carella knocked on the door。 There were bullet holes in the door； and Carella remembered that Pepe Miranda had shot a patrolman through that door； and he suddenly wanted his 。38 in his hand。
Now； easy； he told himself。 Now just take'it easy； and don't panic。 We are going to play this Miranda's way because there are a lot of people out there on the street； and we don't want them to be getting shot。 So be cool。 Your hand is shaking； and you are itching to pull that 。38 so that you'll have something more than a set of prayer beads in your fist when that door opens； but be cool； Steve…o； be cool and。。。
The door opened。
A 。45 automatic was the first thing Carella saw。 The door opened just a crack； and there was the 。45； its big ugly snout pointing into the hallway。 Carella's mouth felt very dry。
〃I'm 。。。 Father Donovan；〃 he said to the automatic。
The door opened wider。 Carella's eyes panned up from the 。45； the hand holding it； the thin wrist； the black hair curling on the arm； the narrow shoulders； the sweat…stained undershirt； the sudden puff of black hair in the hollow of the throat； the wings of the man's collarbones； his thin neck； and high cheekbones； brown eyes； puffed lids； a balding head； and desperation。 Add a man up； add the parts； form a total picture； and the total is desperation。 It was there in Miranda's eyes and in his mouth and even in the way he held the 。45； his head tilted to one side； his shoulder sort of leaning into the gun； the gun close to his body as if it were something he cherished； a tie to reality。
〃e in a minute；〃 Miranda said。
Carella stepped into the apartment。 The place was a shambles。 The furniture； the floors； everything in the room bore the ravaging marks of gunfire。 It was inconceivable to think that a human being had been in this bullet…pocked room and managed to escape getting shot。
〃Looks like they dropped an atom bomb in here； don't it？〃 Miranda said。
〃Yes；〃 Carella answered。
〃You're not scared； are you？ They won't shoot with you in here； it's all right。〃
Carella nodded。 He was not scared。 It was only 。。。 he felt odd all at once。 He did not feel like a cop。 Miranda was not treating him as if he were a cop。 Miranda was behaving as if he were truly a priest； a person he could talk to； relax with。 He wanted to say； 〃I'm not what you think； Miranda！ Don't show yourself to me！〃 but the words would not e。
〃Boy； this has been murder；〃 Miranda said。 〃Look； I didn't ask you up here to confess to you or nothing。 I think we ought to get that straight。〃
〃Then why did you ask me to e up？〃
〃Well。。。〃 Miranda shrugged。 He seemed like a young kid in that moment； a young kid who is about to tell a priest that he took off a girl's underpants on the roof。 Carella kept staring at him。 Miranda held the 。45 in his hand loosely； expecting no trouble from this man he thought was a priest； embarrassed because he was about to reveal something； dishonorable to him。 〃I'll put it to you straight； Father；〃 he said。 〃I got to get out of this apartment。〃
〃Yes？〃
〃So 。。。 so you're going to take me out。〃
〃I am？〃
Miranda nodded。 〃I know that's pretty crumby。 But I got
to get out of here。〃…〃Where do you go from here； Pepe？〃
〃I don't know。〃 Miranda shook his head。 〃You know； Father； you reach the point where 。。。 where there ain't many places left to go。〃 He laughed nervously。 〃Where。。。〃 He laughed again。 〃I don't know。 I don't know where I'll go once I get out of here。〃
〃There're a lot of cops out there； Pepe。〃
〃Yeah； I know。〃 He sighed。 〃Man； this kind of stuff 。。。 I hate this kind of Public Enemy Number One stuff； you dig？ I just hate it。 Oh man； it's like 。。。 like something is expected of me； you know what I mean？ I've got to be the bad guy。 I don't know if it makes any sense to you； Father。〃
〃I'm not sure it does；〃 Carella answered； puzzled。
〃Well； like 。。。 like there are sides。 I'm the bad guy。〃 He shrugged。 〃I've always been the bad guy。 Ever since I was a kid。 So