Manhattan Is My Beat (Rune 1)

"But--"

"Don't worry about it. He could breathe, okay? Anyway, the lord's daughter gave him money and pearls and jewels. Maybe everlasting youth too, I don't remember."

"Man, not too shabby," Frankie said. "Happily ever after."

Rune didn't say anything for a moment. "Not exactly. He blew it."

"What happened?" Frankie seemed marginally interested.

"One of the things the daughter gave him was a box he wasn't supposed to open."

"Why not?"

"Doesn't matter. But he did open it and, bang, got turned into an old man in about five seconds flat. See, fairy tales have rules too. You have to play by them. He didn't. You've gotta listen to magic turtles and wizards. So, that's what I was thinking of when Mr. Kelly said something about getting rich. That I did a good deed and he was going to give me a reward."

Frankie added, "Just don't open any magic boxes."

Rune looked up. "So, that's my story about Mr. Kelly. Is it totally bizarre, or what?"

"You ever ask him about it, why he rented it so often?"

"Sure. And you want to hear a sad answer? He said, 'That movie? It's the high-point of my life.' He wouldn't say anything else. I'll bet his wife and him saw it on their honeymoon. Or maybe he had a wild affair with some vampy woman the night it was released and they were in a hotel in Times Square with the premiere right outside their window."

"Like, what'd the cops say about him getting whacked? They have any idea why?"

"They don't know anything. They don't care."

Frankie flicked through the pages in a rock music magazine, undid one of his earrings, looked at it, put it into a third hole in his other ear. He said, "So, you've seen it, you think it's worth being the high-point of someone's life?"

"Depends on how low your life has been."

"Like, what's it about?" the young man asked. "This movie?"

"There's a bank robbery in the 1930s or '40s, okay? Somewhere down in Wall Street. The robbers're holed up with a hostage in the bank and this young cop--you know, in love with the girl next door's name is Mary, that kind of hero--goes into the bank to exchange himself for the hostage. Then he kills the robber.... And then what happens is the cop can't resist. See, he's in love and he wants to get married but he doesn't have enough money. So he takes the loot and sneaks it out of the bank. Then he buries it someplace. The cops find out about it and throw him off the force and arrest him and he goes to jail."

"That's all?"

"I think he gets out of jail and gets killed before he digs up the money, only I got bored and didn't pay a lot of attention."

Frankie said, "Hey, here it is. Listen." He read from the video distributor catalogue. " 'Manhattan Is My Beat. Nineteen forty-seven.' Oh, this is so bogus. Listen. 'A gripping drama of a young, idealistic policeman in New York City, torn between duty and greed.' "

Rune glanced at the clock. Quitting time. She locked the door. "All I know is, if I ever made a movie, I'd shoot anyone who called it a 'gripping drama.' "

Frankie said, "If I ever make a movie anybody can call it anything they want, as long as I, like, get to play on the sound track. Hey, it says here it's based on a true story. About a real bank robbery in Manhattan. Somebody got away with a million dollars. It says it was never recovered."

Really? Rune hadn't known that.

"It's late," she told Frankie. "Let's get out of here. I need to--"

A loud knock on the glass door startled them. A threesome stood outside--a man and woman, arm in arm, and another woman. In their twenties. The couple was in black. Jeans, T-shirts. She was taller than he was, with very short yellow-white hair and pale, caked makeup. Dark purple lips. The man wore high black boots. He was thin. He had a long face, handsome and angular. High cheekbones. They both had yellow Sony Walkman wires

and earphones around their necks. Her cord disappeared into his pocket. The look was Downtown Chic and they displayed it like war paint.

The other woman was chubby, had spiky orange hair and she moved her head rhythmically--apparently to music that only she could hear (she didn't wear a Walkman headset). The cut and color of her hair reminded Rune of Woody Woodpecker's.

Another knock.

Frankie looked at the clock. "What do I say?"