It’s another really nice day and he just about manages to dress appropriately. He walks along tree-lined, sun-dappled West Fourth Street and tries to imagine living in one of these brownstones. They’re gorgeous, but he could never afford the rents around here. Besides, he’d miss the sea from his window. He finds a coffee shop out on Sixth. Convinced now that he is being followed, he can’t help feeling self-conscious, as though every move he makes, every gesture, is being watched and graded. A corollary of this, of course, is that his life might be in danger. He stays in the coffee shop for an hour, until just after nine, sipping coffee and watching people as they come and go. When he is out on the street again, he flags down a cab. He does this on impulse. He tells the driver East Fifty-eighth Street and they quickly join the flow of traffic heading uptown. Jimmy half turns and looks through the rear window. If he has a tail, could he lose it this easily? Seems possible. He turns around again, and looks ahead.
