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prison issue.
    InBroadfield's case this wouldn't happen because if he was convicted he would be sent upstate to SingSing orDannemora orAttica . You don't do murder time in the Tombs.

    A guard opened his door and locked me in with him. We looked each other over without saying anything until the guard was presumably out of earshot. Then he said, "Jesus, you came."

    "I said I would."

    "Yeah, but I didn't know whether to believe you or not. When you take a look around and realize you're locked up in a jail cell, that you're aprisoner, that something you never believed could happen to you is actually happening, shit, Matt, you don't know what to believe anymore about anything." He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered it to me. I shook my head. He lit himself a cigarette with the gold lighter,then weighed the lighter in his hand. "They let me hang onto this," he said. "That surprised me. I didn't think they let you have a lighter or matches."

    "Maybe they trust you."

    "Oh, sure."He gestured to the bed. "I'd say take a chair but they didn't give me one. You're welcome to the bed. Of course there's a good chance there are little creatures living in it."

    "I'm comfortable standing."

    "Yeah, so am I. It's going to be a real picnic, sleeping in that bed tonight. Why couldn't the fuckers at least give me a chair to sit on? You know, they took my tie."

    "I guess that's standard procedure."

    "No question. I had an advantage, you know. The minute I walked in the door I knew I was going to wind up in a cell. At the time I didn't know anything aboutPortia, that she was there, that she was dead, anything. But as soon as I saw them I knew I was going to be arrested because of the complaint she swore out.Right? So while they're asking me questions I'm taking off my jacket, getting out of my pants, kicking my shoes off. You know why?"

    "Why?"

    "Because they have to let you get dressed. If you're dressed to begin with they can take you that way, but if you're not they have to let you put something on, they can't haul you downtown in your underwear.
    So they let me get dressed and I picked out a suit withbeltless slacks."
    He opened the jacket to show me."And a pair of loafers. See?" He hiked a trouser leg to display a navy shoe. The leather looked to be lizard. "I knew they'd want to take my belt and shoelaces. So I picked out clothes that didn't call for a belt or laces."

    "But you wore a tie."

    He gave me the old grin again. It was the first I'd seen of it this morning. "Damn right I did. You know why?"

    "Why?"

    "Because I'm going to get out of here.You'regonna help me, Matt. I didn't do it and you'll find a way to prove it, and as much as they'll hate the idea they'regonna have to let me out. And when they do they'll give me back my watch and my wallet, and I'll put my watch on my wrist and my wallet in my pocket.

    And they'll give me my tie, and I'll get in front of a mirror and take my time getting the knot just right.

    I might tie it three or four times to get that knot just the way I like it. And then I'll walk out that front door and down those stone steps looking like a million dollars. And that's why I wore that fucking tie."

    THE speech probably did him some good. If nothing else it reminded him that he was a class guy, a guy with style, and that was a useful self-image for him to have in a jail cell. He squared his big shoulders and got the whine of self-pity out of his voice, and I took out my notebook and gave him some questions to answer. The answers weren't all that bad, but they didn't do much to get him off the hook.

    He had gone out for a sandwich not long after I'd talked to him, say around six-thirty. He'd bought a sandwich and a few bottles of beer at a delicatessen onGrove Street and brought them back to his apartment.
    Then he sat around listening to the radio and drinking the beer until the phone rang again a little before midnight.

    "I figured it was you," he said. "Nobody ever calls me