Scotty said, “Miranda-Escobedo doesn’t apply here. This is a kangaroo court, and you’re the kangaroo.”
Jomo spat on the table. Scotty pulled a rubber-hose chunk from his waistband. It was ten inches long and friction tape-gripped.
“Over the past seven months fourteen liquor stores have been robbed in southside Los Angeles. You match the general description of the suspect. A confidential police informant called me today. He gave you up for the crimes, and I found him credible. I would advise you to confess. If you require legal counsel, you may address your attorney.”
Dwight said, “Confess.”
Jomo said, “Marsh Bowen snitched me. First, he whups me, then he snitches me. You see the stitches on my head? That ex-pig motherfucker did that. You think I’m not gonna get no get-back when I get out of here?”
Scotty flexed the hose chunk. “Son, I would love to see that happen. Marsh put some hurt on me as well, and I would love to see him get his comeuppance.”
Jomo squirmed. His cuff chain rattled. The cuffs were tight-ratcheted. His wrists bled.
“Marsh snitched me, right?”
Scotty said, “That’s correct.”
“So let me out of here. Give me a skate on them chump-change 211’s and I’ll get us both some get-back.”
Dwight said, “Confess first. We’ll get you a day pass to get your shit in order. I’ve got a Jew lawyer buddy. He’ll plead you out. You’ll do a year at the honor farm, tops.”
Jomo spat on the table. “Fuck your mother. You a fascist cockroach and a minion of the pig power structure. Your mama sucked my big black dick.”
Scotty winked at Dwight. Scotty circled the table and stood behind Jomo. Scotty stroked Jomo’s Afro with the hose chunk.
“Confess, son. It’s in your best interest to do so.”
Jomo said, “Fuck you.”
Scotty swung the hose chunk. Jomo screamed. Perfect kidney shot.
Dwight said, “Confess.” Jomo spat on the table. Scotty swung the hose chunk. Jomo screamed louder. Perfect kidney shot.
Dwight said, “Confess.” Jomo retched for air. Scotty placed a sheet of paper on the table. Dwight skimmed it. The fourteen 211’s were listed.
Scotty said, “Look at the list and nod your head. We’ll consider it a confession.”
Jomo spat on the table. Jomo said, “Fuck you.”
Scotty swung the hose chunk. Jomo screamed. Perfect kidney shot.
Dwight said, “He looked at the list. As his lawyer, I’m calling it a confession.”
Scotty bowed. “I agree. I’ll write it up later, and Mr. Clarkson can sign it when he’s capable of holding a pen.”
Jomo dripped bile. Blood was laced in. His head lolled. His cuffs cut deep. His eyes did funny things.
Scotty said, “I have a good deed in mind.”
Dwight said, “Tell me.”
Scotty fondled the hose chunk. “We could get BHPD a clearance on an old case of theirs. We could get you a clearance on that safe house and those guns.”
Dwight thought of Joan. “Forget the safe house. My people might get compromised. Let’s concentrate on the Hiltz job.”
“Hiltz job” tweaked Jomo. Say what? Whazzat? Don’t know no Hiltz job.
Scotty said, “Last September 14, two male Negroes pulled a string of residential robberies and in the process killed a wealthy hate pamphleteer named Dr. Fred Hiltz. I believe that you were Male Negro #1. I think you should confess to those crimes and reveal the identity of Male Negro #2. Mr. Holly, how would you advise your client?”
Dwight said, “Confess.”
Jomo spat blood on the table. Jomo said, “Fuck you.”
Scotty swung the hose chunk. Jomo screamed. Perfect kidney shot.
Dwight said, “Confess.”
Scotty said, “Confess.”
Jomo spat blood on the table. Jomo gasped, “Fuck you.”
Scotty swung the hose chunk. Jomo screamed.
Dwight said, “Confess.”
Scotty said, “Confess.”
Jomo spat blood on the table. Jomo sobbed, “Fuck you.”
Scotty swung the hose chunk. Jomo screamed.
Dwight said, “Confess.”
Scotty said, “Confess.”
Jomo spat blood on the table. Tissue chunks were laced in. Jomo rolled his head upright and took a big breath.
“Okay, I did them jobs. Me and a nigger named Leotis Waddrell. Leotis ripped me off. Went to Vegas and blew our stash on coke and roulette. I snuffed him. He’s out in the desert. You let me cop to Homicide-Two, I give you the fucking body.”
Scotty said, “He confessed.”
Dwight said, “I’ll verify it.”
Scotty said, “I’ve got a few more questions.”
Dwight shook his head. “Get him an ambulance. He tried to escape and you nailed him. You can post-date the confession.”
Scotty shook his head. Scotty tickled Jomo’s chin with the hose chunk.
“February 24, ‘64. The armored-car heist on 84th and Budlong. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. Dead guards, dead robbers, a very large take in cash and emeralds. The lead robber killed his own men and burned their bodies past recognition. He got away, and I’m halfway convinced that a second man may have gotten away, as well. While I have you here, may I ask if you know anything about that?”
Dwight blinked. It didn’t track, it didn’t play, it didn’t pertain-
Jomo blinked. Blood dripped down his chin.
“Man, why you askin’ me this? That case is age-old stale bread.”
Scotty swung the hose chunk. Jomo screamed. Perfect kidney shot.
Dwight stood up. Jomo lolled his head on the table. Scotty grabbed his hair and jerked it. The tabletop was blood-smeared.
“Rumors, scuttlebutt, anything you might have heard. I asked a civil question and I expect a civil answer.”
Jomo pulled his head away. His Afro came loose. It was a paste-on wig. Scotty laughed and threw it on the floor.
“One last time. The events of February 24, 1964. Tell me what you know about-”
“Man, I don’t know shit! Rumors is rumors! Maybe it’s BTA before they was BTA, maybe it’s white guys! Man, I don’t fucking know!”,
Scotty stroked Jomo’s scalp with the hose chunk. Dwight said, “Enough.”
Scotty stuck the hose chunk in his waistband. Scotty said, “As you wish.”
“Call an ambulance. Get him to Morningside.”
Scotty winked. “Sure, Dwight. I’ll call an ambulance, and we’ll say good night now.”
Dwight walked to the door. His ring was gone. His feet were numb. He smelled bile and blood.
Scotty said, “I still owe Marsh Bowen one.”
Dwight got out the door and downstairs. His feet were gone. He hit the parking lot shaking. Joan was leaning against his car.
Dawn at the fascist cop shop. Black amp; whites parked all around her. The Red Goddess in a pea coat and scuffed boots.
“I’m as good as you are. Are you convinced now?”
Dwight said, “Yes.”
It was cold. Joan shivered and jammed her hands in her pockets.
“Word will spread. Marsh handed up Jomo. We certified Marsh and got Jomo off the street in one go. It’s why I let the MMLF store guns in a BTA safe house. The BTA and MMLF will take it from there.”
“You knew Marsh was my infiltrator.”
Joan nodded. “Off a fight with Scotty Bennett? It was so fucking bold that it had to be you.”
Dwight shivered. “ ‘Nobody dies.’ Remember?”
“There’s some guns that won’t hurt anyone.”
“It might not be that simple.”
“Which should not impede our actions.”
Two cops walked by. Dwight stepped toward Joan. He took her hands with his cop world in view.
“Why this? And why now?”
“We both have blood on our hands. Maybe I’ve got more than you.”
“What do you mean?”
Joan said, “There’s things I know about you.”