The cabbie shrugged eloquently. "Who knows?" he said. "You ask questions, you might get answers you don't like. I don't ask questions, I live longer."
"But—"
The cops, meanwhile, had advanced toward the car. One of them looked in. "Who's the passenger?" he said.
The cabbie swore again. "You want me to take loyalty oaths from people?" he said. "You want to ruin my business? I got a passenger, how do I know who he is? Maybe he's the Lone Ranger."
"Don't get funny," the cop said. His partner had gone around to the back of the car.
"What's this, the trunk again?" the cabbie said. "You think maybe I'm smuggling in showgirls from the edge of town?"
"Ha, ha," the cop said distinctly. "One more joke and it's thirty days, buster. Just keep cool and nothing will happen."
"Nothing, he calls it," the cabbie said dismally. But he stayed silent until the second cop came back to rejoin his partner.
"Clean," he said.
"Here, too, I guess," the first cop said, and looked in again. "You," he said to Malone. "You a tourist?"