night had fallen.
antoinette had been waiting all afternoon for benjamin franklin, right where he told her to wait, at the corner of 33rd and madison, across the street from the empty johnson’s department store.
it was winter, close to the shortest day of the year, and darkness came early.
nobody had seemed to pay any attention to antoinette through the afternoon, not even the police cars that had driven by a few times.
but now she began to worry that the police, if they drove by again, would notice her as the street began to be deserted as people closed the stores - the kind of stores that closed at 5 or 6 o’clock at the latest - and went home to their lonely or cozy - but warm! - rooms to order pizza or chinese or watch tv or read comic books or danielle steel novels.
it was getting cold.
antoinette wondered if she could blow benjamin franklin off, and just go home to the little room she shared with frankie lee. maybe benjamin had forgotten about her! it would be just like him. but even if he had forgotten about her and he found out she had gone when he had told her to stay - it wouldn’t be pretty.
she decided to call frankie lee and ask her for her advice, even though frankie never actually offered any advice. except things like, do what you gotta do, you know?
but just as antoinette reached for her phone, a police car pulled up.
was it the same one that had passed two or three times before? antoinette did not think so. she thought she would have remembered the policeman who was driving. he was young and kind of good looking but also kind of mean looking.
“are you lost, miss?” the good looking young policeman asked.
“no, officer, i was waiting for my friend, but he has not shown up and it is getting cold, so i was just getting ready to call my best friend and tell her i am on my way home.” as proof of this, antoinette showed the policeman her phone.
“get in,”: the young policeman told antoinette, “and we will take you home. get in the back, it is unlocked.”
antoinette knew enough not to argue. she opened the door. as she slid into the back seat she got her first good look at the other policeman. he was not so young or good looking, had a black mustache like a sicilian bandit, and looked downright nasty.
“i live on south street,” said antoinette, “down by the rverside.”
“don’t tell me my business, “ the young policeman said. he pointed the car north, toward the great swamp.
they drove for a while with nobody speaking, heading for the swamp. they left the lights of the city, and the roadhouses on the outskirts of the city, behind.
“this is not really the way to south street,” antoinette finally ventured to say.
“and we are not really policemen,” the driver replied. “we are a couple of desperate rounders, only pretending to be policemen, and we are kidnapping you.”
“i suspected as much.”
“do what we tell you”. the man with the black mustache spoke for the first time. “and you may not come to grief.”
may not, thought antoinette. “but just in case you really are policemen,” she said, “may i know your names, so that i can report you for unprofessional conduct?”
“my name is christopher columbus,” the driver said. “and my compadre here is vasco da gama.”
“my name is marie antoinette.”
“we know all about you.”
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