"shoesmaketheman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Harold A)

Someone should get tough with Zeke Francisco, too. Joe knew that. Everyone, it seemed,
knew that Zeke was bringing dope over the border, somehow, and that some of that dope
was going to school kids. And that was bad!

But although everyone knew all about Zeke, no one had ever been able to prove it.
Zeke's apartment had been raided time after time. His automobile had been stopped at
the border, had almost been taken apart several times. Zeke, himself, had been
stripped to the skin in futile searches.

Always, it had ended with Zeke giving a Bronx cheer to the customs officials and to
the cops. He always would--


A CAR swished by, throwing rain and mud over Joe McCarthy's big form. He looked up
quickly, then wished at once that he was some place else.

The car had braked to a halt, directly in front of an ornate apartment house. Three
men were getting out of it, three nattily dressed men, with derby hats set jauntily
on their heads. One of the men was laughing.

"There he is. There's Happy McCarthy," the man jeered.

Joe McCarthy groaned. It was Zeke Francisco, naturally. Zeke had always tried to
make life miserable for him. Zeke who, as a kid, had known he could hit Joe McCarthy
in safety, because Joe wouldn't hit back. Zeke who, now that he was grown, still
knew he could sneer and insult in safety.

For just an instant, Joe was tempted to turn and walk the other way. Then his head
came up, his eyes narrowed slightly

"Old Happy McCarthy, the boy who never had a fight," Zeke Francisco leered.
"Imagine Bantam Pike sending you out to get something on me."

Without conscious motion, Joe McCarthy knew he was walking forward. His ears were
ringing slightly. Zeke's words showed that he already knew of Joe's conversation
with Commissioner Pike, showed that there must be a leak somewhere in the police
department.

Joe was proud of that police department, even if he couldn't be a member. For
there to be a leak there--

Zeke Francisco stuck his jaw forward. "Hit me, Joe," he invited smoothly.

Joe McCarthy stopped. His big shoulders rose and fell. Behind Zeke, he could see
the other two men grinning wisely, amused at a picture of a giant who wouldn't
fight. Joe knew that he was flushing, knew that he should do something, but he
couldn't. Habit of a lifetime held him back.

Zeke Francisco knew that also. The little man was smiling broadly.