Page 33 - The Myth and the Moment

Afternoon

“No. Evangelino: are you going to clean up that drink you spilled
on my carpet?”
Leave me alone, you harpy!
“It’s gone! My life’s work, gone!”
“I need to make a report on this. Any valuables missing? Cash,
jewelry, TV, watch, small appliances?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know! Let me think! My papers are gone,
my manuscripts, all my notes, the typeset copy—oh, no!”
“Personal documents. What about the valuables? Cassette player?
Hair dryer? What about cuff-links? You have any cuff-links?”
“No! None of that stuff! All I have in here is an old clock-radio,
and it’s right there on the floor, telling you what time its cord was
yanked out of the wall: 12:07. You’ve got to get my papers back!
You’ve got to find them! It’s not a question of money. They’re
priceless to me.”
“Insured?”
“Insure my papers? How the hell could I do that? I can’t even get
life insurance at my age!”
“Calm down, fella. Here’s a copy of our report. Use that number if
you need to refer to this case. Insurance company will want to know
it, too.”
“I don’t have insurance. I don’t want insurance. I want the police
to go out and get my papers back.”
“Okay. Listen, mister. You may think you’re the first guy ever to
get robbed, but we see hundreds of these break-ins every week.
There aren’t enough police to spare one to go searching for your
personal effects. If you had something valuable stolen, and you could
identify it, then we could check out the pawn shops and street sellers.
But papers? You should go check out the trash cans in a two-block
radius. Once the guy realizes what he took he’ll dump them.”
Dump them. Sit down, Nate, before you fall down. All that work
down the drain. Another week and it would have been out of here, in
the shop being etched on a platinum plate. Why didn’t I get an extra
copy made and hide it somewhere else? I could have afforded it.
Stupid, stupid, Nate! Maybe the police are right, maybe—they’re
gone. Don’t they take fingerprints, look for clues with a magnifying
glass? Can’t they tell if the thief were right- or left-handed by the way
my room is trashed? Now, wait: get hold of yourself!

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