The New Centurions Part 17

"That guy's blossoming out, Jake," said Simeone. "He's trying to be the youngest captain on the job. You got to watch the blossomers, they'll use their troops for manure."

Jacovitch looked helplessly at Roy and Roy was certain he would be admonished later by Jacovitch to keep silent about the b.i.t.c.hing in the vice squad. He was a poor example of a supervisor if he let it die like this, thought Roy. He should never have let it go this far, but now that it had, he should set them straight. The lieutenant was the officer in charge, and if Roy were in charge, by G.o.d, he would hope his sergeant did not permit the men to insult him.

"Let's talk about something else, you mutineers," Jacovitch announced nervously, jerking his gla.s.ses off and wiping them although they seemed to Roy perfectly clean.

"Did you guys hear how many marines Hollywood vice busted last weekend?" asked Simeone, and Roy thought Jacovitch looked obviously relieved that the conversation had s.h.i.+fted.

"What's happening in Hollywood?" asked Gant.

"What always happens?" said Simeone. "The joint is lousy with f.a.ggots. I hear they got twenty marines in fruit pinches last weekend. They're going to notify the general at Camp Pendleton."

"That p.i.s.ses me off," said Gant. "I was in the corps, but things were different in those days. Even marines are different now."

"Yeah, I hear there're so many fruit marines being busted, the jarheads at Camp Pendleton are afraid to be seen eating a banana," said Ranatti. "They eat it sideways now like an ear of corn."

"Anybody had a chance to work on the vice complaint at the Regent Arms?" asked Jacovitch.

"Maybe we could use our loaner here for that one," said Ranatti, nodding at Roy. "I think operating that joint is the only way. We prowled it. I got a ladder up to the balcony on the second floor and saw the room where those two wh.o.r.es are tricking, but I couldn't get close enough to the window."

"Trouble is, they're d.a.m.n particular who they take," said Simeone. "I think one or maybe two bellboys are working with them and sending up the tricks. Maybe Roy here could check in and we could set something up."

"Roy's too young," said Gant. "We need an old guy like me, but I been around so long one of those wh.o.r.es would probably recognize me. How about you, Jake? You're old enough and prosperous looking. We'll make you an out of town sport and set something up."

"Might be alright," said Jacovitch, running his fingers through his thinning black hair. "But the boss doesn't like the sergeants to operate too much. I'll see what he thinks."

"The Clarke Apartments is expanding their operations too," said Ranatti. "Apartments six, seven, and eight all have hot beds in them now. Sim and me were staked out there last night for less than an hour and we must've seen these three wh.o.r.es take twelve or thirteen tricks in there one after another. The trick checks in at the desk each time too, so the place is making a fortune."

"One hot bed can make you plenty," Jacovitch nodded.

"These three are really busy. They don't even bother changing sheets," said Ranatti.

"That used to be a square place," said Gant. "I used to take a date there after work whenever I'd get lucky. Too bad they had to get involved in prost.i.tution. Nice old guy runs the joint."

"Too much money in vice," said Jacovitch looking at each of them. "It can corrupt anybody."

"Hey, you guys hear what Harwell did in the restroom at the Garthwaite Theater?" asked Simeone.

"Harwell's a day watch vice officer" said Jacovitch to Roy. "He's about as psycho as Simeone and Ranatti. We all got our crosses to bear."

"What did he do this time?" asked Gant, completing his scribbled notes on a page of yellow legal-size paper.

"He was working the restroom on the vice complaint from the manager, and he spots a brand-new glory hole between the walls of the toilets, so he plops his big a.s.s down on the last stool without dropping his pants and he just sits there smoking his big cigar and pretty soon some fruit comes in and goes straight to the glory hole and sticks his joint through at old Harwell. Lopez was watching from the trap behind the air conditioning on the east wall and he could see real good since we had the manager take the doors off all the johns to discourage the fruits. He said when the guy's joint came poking through the hole, why old Harwell tapped the ashes off that big cigar and blew on the coal till it was glowing red then ground it right into the head of the guy's d.i.c.k. Says the fruit was screaming on the floor when they left."

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d's psycho," Jacovitch murmured. "This is his second tour on vice. I had my doubts about him. b.a.s.t.a.r.d's psycho."

"You ever hear about the glory hole in Bloomfield's Department Store in the ladies dressing room?" asked Ranatti. "Where the wienie wagger shoved it through at the old babe changing clothes and she stuck a hatpin clear through it and the son of a b.i.t.c.h was pinned right there when the cops arrived."

"I heard that one for years," said Phillips. "I think some cop dreamed that one up for a good locker room story."

"Well, the one about Harwell is true," said Simeone. "Lopez told me. Said they got the h.e.l.l out right away. Harwell wanted to book the fruit. Can you imagine, after he d.a.m.n near burned his d.i.c.k off, he wants to put him in jail? Lopez told him, 'Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here and the fruit'll never know it was a cop that did it.'"

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d's going to get fired someday," Jacovitch grumbled.

"Look, you got to keep your sense of humor working this job," Ranatti grinned. "You'd go nuts if you didn't."

"I'd like to've seen that," said Gant. "Was the fruit a white guy?"

"Pretty close," said Simeone. "He was Italian."

"You a.s.shole," said Ranatti.

"You guys remember this is trash night," said Jacovitch.

"What a pain in the a.s.s," said Simeone. "I forgot. Jesus Christ, I wore decent clothes tonight."

"Trash night is the night we help the day watch," said Jacovitch to Roy. "We've agreed to rummage through the garbage cans real late at night on the night before the weekly trash pickup. The day watch gives us the addresses of the places they suspect are bookie joints and we check their trash cans."

"I can tell all my friends I'm a G-man," Ranatti muttered. "G for garbage."

"It worked pretty good so far," said Jacovitch to Roy. "We've found betting markers in garbage cans in three places. That gave day watch something to work on."

"And I go home smelling like a garbage dump," said Ranatti.

"One night we were rummaging in the cans back of Red Cat Sam's restaurant," said Simeone, grinning at Jacovitch, "and we find a big hog's head. G.o.dd.a.m.n hog had a head like a lion. Old Red Cat's a splib, specializes in soul food. Anyway, we brought the head back for Jake, here. We stuck it in his wall locker and went home. Next night we come to work early to make sure we see him open it and that's the G.o.dd.a.m.n night this new lieutenant gets transferred in, unbeknownst to us. And they gave Jake's locker to him. He opened that door and didn't say a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing. Nothing! n.o.body said nothing. We just all pretended like we were doing our paper work or something, and didn't say nothing!"

"He told me later that he thought this was an initiation for the new commander," said Jacovitch, lighting a cigarette and coughing hoa.r.s.ely. "Maybe that's why he's made it so tough on us."

"Let's not talk about him anymore. I get depressed," said Gant. "You guys ready to go to work?"

"Wait a minute before you go," said Jacovitch. "We got something pretty big cooking tonight. We're going to take The Cave at 1:00 A.M. A.M. I know you guys've probably heard rumors because it's impossible to keep a secret in this outfit. Anyway, we got some good scam from a reliable snitch that The Cave is having a lewd movie show tonight. I can't understand it unless Frippo the owner is just plain desperate for business. Anyway, the word is out and the G.o.dd.a.m.n place is going to be packed tonight. Do you know anything about The Cave, Roy?" I know you guys've probably heard rumors because it's impossible to keep a secret in this outfit. Anyway, we got some good scam from a reliable snitch that The Cave is having a lewd movie show tonight. I can't understand it unless Frippo the owner is just plain desperate for business. Anyway, the word is out and the G.o.dd.a.m.n place is going to be packed tonight. Do you know anything about The Cave, Roy?"

"A little," Roy nodded.

"We been hitting them pretty hard lately," said Jacovitch. "One more good bust and I think we can get his liquor license. Tonight should be it. You guys drop whatever you're doing and meet me here at about midnight. We're borrowing about a dozen uniformed policemen from patrol and two teams from Administrative Vice are going to a.s.sist. The movie show is supposed to start about one and we're going to have Roy inside. As soon as the movie starts, Roy, you casually walk to the restroom. We already heard from the snitch that n.o.body's going to get in or out the front door after it starts. Stick a cigarette out the window and wave it around. We'll be sitting outside where we can see that window. Then we'll use the key and come in the front door."

"You have a key to the place?" asked Roy.

"Yeah," Ranatti grinned. "That's it in the corner." He pointed to a four-foot metal post with a heavy steel plate welded on the end and handles affixed to each side so that four men could swing it.

"It should come off with no problems," Jacovitch said. "I don't think you'll have any trouble, but if you should, like if something screwy should happen-if you're made as a vice officer, if you're in any danger at all-you just pick up a barstool or a beer mug or anything and toss it through the front window. Then we'll be right in. But you won't have any trouble."

"Do I just sit there and have a drink?" asked Roy.

"Yeah. Order beer and drink out of the bottle," said Ranatti. "You don't dare drink out of a gla.s.s in the slimy place. Hey, Sim, is Dawn LaVere still hustling out of The Cave?"

"I saw her out front last week," Simeone nodded. "Watch for that b.i.t.c.h, Roy. She's the smartest wh.o.r.e I ever saw. She can spot a cop quick. If she suspects you're vice she'll start her act. Sit next to you, put a hand around your waist and pat you down for a gun and handcuffs while she's tucking a big t.i.t under your armpit to keep you busy. She'll feel your key ring or get her hands on it if she can to see if you got call box keys or handcuff keys. And she'll feel for two wallets because she knows most policemen carry one wallet with their money and another one for their badge. I'd advise you to leave your badge and gun and everything with Gant before you go in."

"I don't know about that," said Jacovitch. "He'd better be armed. I don't want him getting hurt."

"A gun can screw up the deal, Jake," Ranatti protested. "He might as well get used to taking a few chances. We all got to if we want to work vice."

"I don't know. I'll think about it," said Jacovitch.

"Another thing, don't let old Dawn kiss you," giggled Ranatti. "She loves to snuggle around with guys she's hustling. Real affectionate wh.o.r.e, but she's got VD and TB."

"Runny at both ends," Simeone nodded. "All the time."

"She gobbles about twenty joints a night," said Ranatti. "Dawn once told me she don't even screw anymore. Most guys would rather have head jobs and that's a lot easier for her. She don't even have to undress."

"She a d.y.k.e?" asked Gant.

"Oh yeah," said Ranatti. "She lives over on Alvarado with some big fat bull dagger. Told me one time she can't stand to lay a man anymore."

"A vice officer hears all the girls' problems," said Phillips to Roy. "We get to know all these a.s.sholes so well."

"Want Roy to work with me?" asked Gant to Jacovitch.

"I want the four of you to work together tonight," said Jacovitch. "I don't want you guys getting hung up on something and not be ready to go on The Cave when it's time. You four go out together. You can take two cars, but decide what you're going to do till midnight and do it together. Phillips'll work with me."

"Let's go down on Sixth and see if Roy can operate a streetwalker," said Gant to Ranatti and Simeone who were already taking their small flashlights out of the drawer of a filing cabinet.

"Trash night and I'm wearing a brand-new s.h.i.+rt," Ranatti grumbled, b.u.t.toning the s.h.i.+rt gingerly. Roy noticed it fitted well and the shoulder holster was completely concealed. He wondered if he should invest in a shoulder holster. He decided to wait. He was only working vice this month and it might be a long time before he was given a permanent plainclothes a.s.signment. Surely though, someone would want him soon. Felony car, vice, someone would want him. He was sure it was evident to everyone that he was an exceptionally good policeman but police work was temporary and he knew he should be thinking about what courses he would be taking this semester. He seemed to have lost his drive in that direction. Maybe, he thought, I'll take a vacation this semester.

They took two cars. Gant was driving a two-tone green Chevrolet which the vice officers had done their best to camouflage by putting oversized tires on the back. Someone had hung a fuzzy object from the mirror and Gant told Roy that Simeone was responsible for the college decals plastered all over the rear window. Still, Roy thought, it looked like a stripped down, low priced, plainclothes police car. The Department, according to Gant, was very tight with expenditures of funds for undercover operation.

Gant drove Roy to the parking lot where he had his private car.

"Listen Roy," said Gant. "We'll be in the vacant lot behind the yellow apartment building north of Sixth just off Towne Avenue. You make a pa.s.s by there and see where we are. Then you cruise a few blocks down on Sixth and you should see a hustler or two even this early in the evening. If you get her, bring her back to the meeting place."

"Okay," said Roy.

"You sure you learned last night what you need for a wh.o.r.e pinch?" asked Gant.

"Offer of s.e.x for money," said Roy. "Seems simple enough."

"Okay, Roy, go ahead," said Gant. "If you see a wh.o.r.e you suspect is a man dressed up as a woman, don't hit on him. Pa.s.s him by and try another one. We don't operate fruits alone. They're the most dangerous unpredictable b.a.s.t.a.r.ds in the world. You just hit on women-real women." women."

"Okay," Roy said, getting anxious to start. It was a dark night, and being out here on the city streets in plainclothes was like being out here for the very first time. It was eerie and exciting. His heart began thudding.

"Go ahead, kid," said Gant. "Take it easy though."

Roy noticed that his hands became extremely clammy and the steering wheel slippery as he turned east on Sixth Street. It wasn't that he was alone, because he was not really alone with Gant and Ranatti and Simeone staked out just a few blocks away. But he was for the first time out in the streets minus the security of the badge and blue suit, and though he knew this street fairly well, it seemed altogether strange. A vice officer loses the comfort of the big bra.s.s s.h.i.+eld, he thought. He acquires an ident.i.ty. Without the blue suit he becomes a mere man who must function as a street dweller. His confidence was waning. Was it more than nervousness? He put a hand on his chest and measured the thuds. Was it fear?

Roy saw a streetwalker at Fifth and Stanford. She was an emaciated Negro with straight legs and Roy guessed she was an addict with her look of yearning. She smiled as he drove slowly by.

"h.e.l.lo blondie," she said, walking up to Roy's car on the pa.s.senger side and peering in.

"h.e.l.lo there," Roy said, forced a smile, and cursed silently at his quivering voice.

"Haven't I seen you around?" she asked, still smiling an uninviting bad-toothed smile as she glanced around the car, probing, and Roy guessed that she suspected immediately.

"I've never been here before," Roy answered. "A friend told me about this place. Said I could have a good time."

"What do you do for a living, baby?" she smiled.

"Insurance man."

"That's funny, you look just like a cop to me," she said, drilling him with her eyes.

"A cop?" he laughed brokenly. "Not me."

"You look exactly like a young cop," she said unblinkingly while he withered.

"Look, you're making me nervous with this cop talk," said Roy. "Can I get a good time around here, or not?"

"Maybe you could," she said. "What do you have in mind?"

Roy remembered last night's admonishment by Jacovitch about entrapment and he knew she was trying to lead him into making the offer himself.

"Don't you know?" he said, trying a coy smile but uncertain how it looked.

"Give me a card, baby, I might want to buy some insurance sometime."

"Card?"

"A business card. Give me a business card."

"Look, I'm a married man. I don't want you to know my name. What're you trying to do, blackmail me?" said Roy, congratulating himself on his quick thinking and making a note to borrow some cards from an insurance office for any future operations.

"Okay," she smiled easily. "Tear your name off the card or scratch it out with that pen in your s.h.i.+rt pocket. Just let me see that you have a card."

"I don't have any with me," said Roy. "Come on, let's get down to business."

"Uh huh," she said, "let's do that. And my business is minding my own business. Any insurance man that ain't got a million cards in his wallet is a mighty poor insurance man."

"So I'm a poor insurance man. What the h.e.l.l," said Roy hopelessly as she turned to walk away.

"You ain't even a good vice cop," she sneered over her shoulder.

"b.i.t.c.h," said Roy.

"Paddy, blue-eyed motherf.u.c.ker," said the prost.i.tute.

Roy turned right on the next street, drove south to Seventh then back up to Sixth where he parked his car a half block away with the lights out and watched the prost.i.tute talking to a tall Negro in a gray felt hat who nodded and walked quickly down the block to a fat prost.i.tute in a green satin dress whom Roy hadn't seen before. She ran inside the building and talked with two women in the doorway who were just coming out. Roy drove to the meeting place where he found Gant sitting in the back seat of Ranatti and Simeone's car.

"Might as well go somewhere else," said Roy. "I'm burned."

"What happened?" asked Gant.