The Blue Knight (29 page)

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Authors: Joseph Wambaugh

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BOOK: The Blue Knight
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“I never been downtown alone before. I swear. And I didn’t even hitchhike. I took a bus. I was even gonna take a bus back to Echo Park. I didn’t wanna run into cops with the pills in my pocket.”

“How long you been dropping bennies?”

“About three months. And I only tried them a couple times. A kid I know told me I could come down here and almost any guy hanging around could get them for me. I don’t know why I did it.”

“How many tubes you sniff a day?”

“I ain’t a gluehead. It makes guys crazy. And I never sniffed paint, neither.”

Then I started looking at this kid, really looking at him. Usually my brain records only necessary things about arrestees, but now I found myself looking really close and listening for lies. That’s something else you can’t tell the judge, that you’d bet your instinct against a polygraph. I
knew
this boy wasn’t lying. But then, I seemed to be wrong about everything lately.

“I’m gonna book you and release you to your sister. That okay with you?”

“You ain’t gonna send me to Juvenile Hall?”

“No. You wanna go there?”

“Christ, no. I gotta be free. I was scared you was gonna lock me up. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I just gotta be free. I couldn’t stand being inside a place like that with everybody telling you what to do.”

“If I ever see you downtown scoring pills again, I’ll make sure you go to the Hall.”

The kid took a deep breath. “You’ll never see me again, I swear. Unless you come out around Echo Park.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t live too far from there.”

“Yeah? I got customers in Silverlake and all around Echo Park. Where do you live?”

“Not far from Bobby’s drive-in. You know where that is? All the kids hang around there.”

“Sure I do. I work with this old guy who’s got this pickup truck and equipment. Why don’t you let us do your yard? We do front and back, rake, trim, weed and everything for eight bucks.”

“That’s not too bad. How much you get yourself?”

“Four bucks. I do all the work. The old guy just flops in the shade somewhere till I’m through. But I need him because of the truck and stuff.”

This kid had me so interested I suddenly realized we were just sitting there. I put the cigar in my teeth and turned the key. She fired right up and I pulled out in the traffic. But I couldn’t get my mind off this boy.

“Whadda you do for fun? You play ball or anything?”

“No, I like swimming. I’m the best swimmer in my class, but I don’t go out for the team.”

“Why not?”

“I’m too busy with girls. Look.” The boy took out his wallet and showed me his pictures. I glanced at them while turning on Pico, three shiny little faces that all looked the same to me.

“Pretty nice,” I said, handing the pictures back.


Real
nice,” said the kid with a wink.

“You look pretty athletic. Why don’t you play baseball? That used to be my game.”

“I like sports I can do by myself.”

“Don’t you have any buddies?”

“No, I’m more of a ladies’ man.”

“I know what you mean, but you can’t go through this world by yourself. You should have some friends.”

“I don’t need nobody.”

“What grade you in?”

“Eighth. I’ll sure be glad to get the hell out of junior high. It’s a ghoul school.”

“How you gonna pass if you cut classes like this?”

“I don’t ditch too often, and I’m pretty smart in school, believe it or not. I just felt rotten last night. Sometimes when you’re alone a lot you get feeling rotten and you just wanna go out where there’s some people. I figured, where am I gonna find lots of people? Downtown, right? So I came downtown. Then this morning I felt more rotten from sleeping in the creepy movie so I looked around and saw these two guys and asked them where I could get some bennies and they sold them to me. I really wanted to get high, but swear to God, I only dropped bennies a couple times before. And one lousy time I dropped a red devil and a rainbow with some guys at school, and that’s all the dope I ever took. I don’t really dig it, Officer. Sometimes I drink a little beer.”

“I’m a beer man myself, and you can call me Bumper.”

“Listen, Bumper, I meant it about doing your yard work. I’m a hell of a good worker. The old man ain’t no good, but I just stick him away in a corner somewheres and you should see me go. You won’t be sorry if you hire us.”

“Well, I don’t really have a yard myself. I live in this apartment building, but I kind of assist the manager and he’s always letting the damn place go to hell. It’s mostly planted in ivy and ice plant and junipers that he lets get pretty seedy-looking. Not too much lawn except little squares of grass in front of the downstairs apartments.”

“You should see me pull weeds, Bumper. I’d have that ice plant looking alive and green in no time. And I know how to take care of junipers. You gotta trim them a little, kind of shape them. I can make a juniper look soft and trim as a virgin’s puss. How about getting us the account? I could maybe give you a couple bucks kickback.”

“Maybe I’ll do that.”

“Sure. When we get to the police station, I’ll write out the old man’s name and phone number for you. You just call him when you want us to come. One of these days I’m getting some business cards printed up. It impresses hell out of people when you drop a business card on them. I figure we’ll double our business with a little advertising and some business cards.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“This the place?” The kid looked up at the old brown brick station. I parked in the back.

“This is the place,” I said. “Pretty damned dreary, huh?”

“It gives me the creepies.”

“The office is upstairs,” I said, leading him up and inside, where I found one of the Juvenile Narcotics officers eating lunch.

“Hi, Bumper,” he said.

“What’s happening, man,” I answered, not able to think of his name. “Got a kid with some bennies. No big thing. I’ll book him and pencil out a quick arrest report.”

“Worthwhile for me talking to him?”

“Naw, just a little score. First time, he claims. I’ll take care of it. When should I cite him back in?”

“Make it Tuesday. We’re pretty well up to the ass in cite-ins.”

“Okay,” I said, and nodded to another plainclothes officer who came in and started talking to the first one.

“Stay put, kid,” I said to the boy and went to the head. After I came out, I went to the soft drink machine and got myself a Coke and one for the boy. When I came back in he was looking at me kind of funny.

“Here’s a Coke,” I said, and we went in another office which was empty. I got a booking form and an arrest report and got ready to start writing.

He was still looking at me with a little smile on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

“Nothing.”

“What’re you grinning at?”

“Oh, was I grinning? I was just thinking about what those two cops out there said when you went to the john.”

“What’d they say?”

“Oh, how you was some kind of cop.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled as I put my initial on a couple of the bennies so I could recognize them if the case went to court. I knew it wouldn’t though. I was going to request that the investigator just counsel and release him.

“You and your sister’re gonna have to come in Tuesday morning and talk to an investigator.”

“What for?”

“So he can decide if he ought to C-and-R you, or send you to court.”

“What’s C and R? Crush and rupture?”

“Hey, that’s pretty good,” I chuckled. He was a spunky little bastard. I was starting to feel kind of proud of him. “C and R means counsel and release. They almost always counsel and release a kid the first time he’s busted instead of sending him to juvenile court.”

“I told you I been busted twice for running away. This ain’t my first fall.”

“Don’t worry about it. They’re not gonna send you to court.”

“How do you know?”

“They’ll do what I ask.”

“Those juvies said you was really some kind of cop. No wonder I got nailed so fast.”

“You were no challenge,” I said, putting the bennies in an evidence envelope and sealing it.

“I guess not. Don’t forget to lemme give you the old guy’s name and phone number for the yard work. Who you live with? Wife and kids?”

“I live alone.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I might be able to give you a special price on the yard-work. You know, you being a cop and all.”

“Thanks, but you should charge your full price, son.”

“You said baseball was your game, Bumper?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” I stopped writing for a minute because the boy seemed excited and was talking so much.

“You like the Dodgers?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I always wanted to learn about baseball. Maury Wills is a Dodger, ain’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to go to a Dodger game sometime and see Maury Wills.”

“You never been to a big league game?”

“Never been. Know what? There’s this guy down the street. Old fat fart, maybe even older than you, and fatter even. He takes his kid to the school yard across the street all day Saturday and Sunday and hits fly balls to him. They go to a game practically every week during baseball season.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and know what the best part of it is?”

“What?”

“All that exercise is really good for the old man. That kid’s doing him a
favor
by playing ball with him.”

“I better call your sister,” I said, suddenly getting a gas bubble and a burning pain at the same time. I was also getting a little light-headed from the heat and because there were ideas trying to break through the front of my skull, but I thought it was better to leave them lay right now. The boy gave me the number and I dialed it.

“No answer, kid,” I said, hanging up the phone.

“Christ, you gotta put me in Juvenile Hall if you don’t find her?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You can’t just drop me at the pad?”

“I can’t.”

“Damn. Call Ruby’s Playhouse on Normandie. That joint opens early and Slim likes to hang out there sometimes. Damn, not the Hall!”

I got Ruby’s Playhouse on the phone and asked for Sarah Tilden, which he said was her name.

“Big Blue,” said the boy. “Ask for Big Blue.”

“I wanna talk to Big Blue,” I said, and then the bartender knew who I was talking about.

A slurred young voice said, “Yeah, who’s this?”

“This is Officer Morgan, Los Angeles Police, Miss Tilden. I’ve arrested your brother downtown for possession of dangerous drugs. He had some pills on him. I’d like you to drive down to thirteen-thirty Georgia Street and pick him up. That’s just south of Pico Boulevard and west of Figueroa.” After I finished there was a silence on the line for a minute and then she said, “Well, that does it. Tell the little son of a bitch to get himself a lawyer. I’m through.”

I let her go on with the griping a little longer and then I said, “Look, Miss Tilden, you’ll have to come pick him up and then you’ll have to come back here Tuesday morning and talk to an investigator. Maybe they can give you some advice.”

“What happens if I don’t come pick him up?” she said.

“I’d have to put him in Juvenile Hall and I don’t think you’d want that. I don’t think it would be good for him.”

“Look, Officer,” she said. “I wanna do what’s right. But maybe you people could help me somehow. I’m a young woman, too goddamn young to be saddled with a kid his age. I can’t raise a kid. It’s too hard for me. I got a lousy job. Nobody should expect me to raise a kid brother. I been turned down for welfare even, how do you like that? If I was some nigger they’d gimme all the goddamn welfare I wanted. Look, maybe it would be best if you
did
put him in Juvenile Hall. Maybe it would be best for him. It’s
him
I’m thinking of, you see. Or maybe you could put him in one of those foster homes. Not like a criminal, but someplace where somebody with lots of time can watch over him and see that he goes to school.”

“Lady, I’m just the arresting officer and my job is to get him home right now. You can talk about all this crap to the juvenile investigator Tuesday morning, but I want you down here in fifteen minutes to take him home. You understand me?”

“Okay, okay, I understand you,” she said. “Is it all right if I send a family friend?”

“Who is it?”

“It’s Tommy’s uncle. His name’s Jake Pauley. He’ll bring Tommy home.”

“I guess it’ll be okay.”

After I hung up, the kid was looking at me with a lopsided smile. “How’d you like Big Blue?”

“Fine,” I said, filling in the boxes on the arrest report. I was sorry I had called her in front of the kid, but I wasn’t expecting all that bitching about coming to get him.

“She don’t
want
me, does she?”

“She’s sending your uncle to pick you up.”

“I ain’t got no uncle.”

“Somebody named Jake Pauley.”

“Hah! Old Jake baby? Hah! He’s some uncle.”

“Who’s he? One of her friends?”

“They’re friendly all right. She was shacked up with him before we moved in with Slim. I guess she’s going back to Jake. Jesus, Slim’ll cut Jake wide, deep, and often.”

“You move around a lot, do you?”


Do
we? I been in seven different schools. Seven! But, I guess it’s the same old story. You probably hear it all the time.”

“Yeah, I hear it all the time.”

I tried to get going on the report again and he let me write for a while but before I could finish he said, “Yeah, I been meaning to go to a Dodger game. I’d be willing to pay the way if I could get somebody with a little baseball savvy to go with me.”

Now in addition to the gas and the indigestion, I had a headache, and I sat back with the booking slip finished and looked at him and let the thoughts come to the front of my skull, and of course it was clear as water that the gods conspire against me, because here was this boy. On my last day. Two days after Cassie first brought up the thing that’s caused me a dozen indigestion attacks. And for a minute I was excited as hell and had to stand up and pace across the room and look out the window.

Here it is, I thought. Here’s the thing that puts it all away for good. I fought an impulse to call Cassie and tell her about him, and another impulse to call his sister back and tell her not to bother sending Jake baby, and then I felt dizzy on top of the headache. I looked down at my shield and without willing it I reached down and touched it and my sweaty finger left a mark on the brass part which this morning had been polished to the luster of gold. The finger mark turned a tarnished orange before my eyes, and I thought about trading my gold and silver shield for a little tinny retirement badge that you can show to old men in bars to prove what you used to be, and which could never be polished to a luster that would reflect sunlight like a mirror.

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