“What shit?” Liberty was bewildered.
“The grass. Or whatever. Acid. Horse. Snow. Where is it?’
“Listen!” I claimed his attention. “There’s a bomb here! It’s rigged to go off when the phone rings! You’ve got to--”
“Hallucinating.” Detective Snowpush decided. “You two been tripping!”
“No! We—”
“Where’s the sugar?”
“There’s something in the spade chick’s lap,” one of the cops told him.
“Oh, yeah.” Detective Snowpush peered nearsightedly across the room at Liberty. “Looks like snowflakes, all right. Check it out,” he ordered the cop.
The cop went over to Liberty, knelt beside her, and studied the area under suspicion.
“Well?” Detective Snowpush was impatient.
“It ain’t snow,” the cop replied. “And it ain’t LSD neither.”
“What is it, then?”
“You wouldn’t believe it.” The cop stood up and scratched his head. He looked across at me, then back at Liberty, then at me again. “How the hell . . . ?” He walked over to Detective Snowpush and whispered in his ear.
“Are you sure?” Snowpush exclaimed aloud.
The cop nodded.
“Better notify the Vice Squad.”
The cop exited, closing what was left of the door behind him. A moment later it shot open again and a fresh contingent of bluecoats burst into the room, guns drawn. The paunchy man in civvies who seemed to be in charge of them stepped forward.
“Inspector Greeknik, Gambling Squad!” he bellowed. “This is a raid! Everybody up against the wall!”
Up against the wall? “We’re locked to these chairs; we can’t move.” I. called the circumstances to his attention. '
“Do as you’re told, and nobody’ll get hurt!”
“Hey, Greeknik,” Detective Snowpush greeted him. “Put me down for a fin on the nose, Teabiscuit, sixth at Belmont.”
The inspector took out a pad and pencil and made a notation. “ ‘Teabiscuit.’ You’re down,” he told Snowpush.
“Inspector Greeknik!” I babbled. “The telephone! There’s a bomb attached to it! Any minute now it—”
“Not my department,” Greeknik told me brusquely. “Only the Emergency Bomb Squad is authorized to fool around with infernal machines.”
“But –“
“Hey, Greeknik! What’s the Gambling Squad doing here anyway?” Detective Snowpush demanded. “This is a narcotics raid!”
“The hell you say! We’ve had this raid set for weeks,” Inspector Greeknik told him. “Everybody knows that. Hell, it’s been checked out with the commissioner and the godfather.”
“A bomb! A BOMB! A BOMB!”
They ignored me.
“We were here first!” Detective Snowpush stamped his foot. “And we’re not leaving!”
“All right. Just don’t get in our way!” Inspector Greeknik loomed over me. “Where’s Luigi?” he demanded.
“Let’s see those veins!” Detective Snowpush knelt on my other side and squinted at my arms.
“If you don’t do something about that bomb-—”
“Luigi called me from here before, so I know he was here! Now, what did you do with him?”
“Aha!” Snowpush squeezed my arm hard. “A ]unkie!”
I craned my head to look at my arm. It was covered with red welts. “That’s hives,” I explained. “It’s a fear reaction. When I panic, I get hives. And sometimes,” I babbled, “I get an erection.”
“And sometimes you don’t!” Liberty reminded me.
“What are you? Some kind of degenerate?” Inspector Greeknik backed away from me.
“You don’t know the half of it.” Detective Snowpush followed and whispered in his ear. He gestured toward Liberty, and Greeknik stared.
“I don’t believe it!” Greeknik exclaimed. “That’s depraved! . . . And pretty remarkable, too,” he added.
“All these hopheads are perverts,” Snowpush informed him.
“Aren’t you going to deactivate that bomb?” I whined plaintively.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG‘! Rapid fire shot away what was left of the door lock. “Detective Slaughter, Homicide Division!” Two heavy-duty police revolvers smoked from each of his hands. Another platoon of cops ushered him into the room. “Hands up! This is a raid!”
Hands up? “Our wrists are handcuffed behind our backs,” I told him meekly. “We can’t put our hands up.”
“Listen, Slaughter, this is my bust!” Snowpush protested.
“The Gambling Squad has priority!” Greeknik took issue.
“Homicide!” Slaughter insisted. “I outrank both of you.”
“Don’t try to lay that on me!” Snowpush said hotly. “You’re only a detective, same as I am.”
“That’s right, narc. Except for one thing.” Slaughter ended the argument. “I’ve got tenure!”
“If you’re in charge,” I came in quickly, “then do something about the bomb hooked up to the phone!”
“I’m Homicide, mister. That’ll have to wait for the Bomb Squad.”
“Don’t mind him,” Snowpush told Slaughter. “He’s turned on.”
“Where’s Luigi?” Greeknik thundered down at Liberty.
“Hey, Snowpush, that reminds me, you got any shit?” Detective ‘Slaughter asked.
“Sure. A nickel bag enough?”
“Is it any good?”
“Constantinople Gold. Top-grade hash. Confiscated it myself from a pusher fresh from Marseilles.”
“Yeah? Then make it a dime’s worth.”
“What happened to the pusher?” Greeknik wondered.
“He got oft. They couldn’t prove possession.” Snowpush winked. “Not a grain on him; it’s all right here.” He patted his hip.
“Hey, fellas,” I moaned. “The bomb . . .”
“Look at this, Slaughter.” Greeknik pointed at Liberty’s lap. “What do you make of it?”
Slaughter looked. His eyes went from Liberty’s black body to my white body and back to Liberty’s black body again. Then he pronounced judgement: “Mis- cegenation!”
“Racist!” Liberty glared at him.
“I’m from South Seattle.” Slaughter shrugged. He stuck a long finger under my nose. “Where’s the victim’s body?” he demanded.
“Where’s Luigi?”
“Where’s the shit?”
“Hello-hello-hello.” A voluptuous blond girl in hot pants made her entrance. “Did somebody call the Vice Squad?”
“Hi, Lieutenant DeCoi,” Greeknik greeted her. “Where’s De Sade? I thought he handled Vice raids.”
“He had tickets to a whipping. So he sent me instead.” Lieutenant DeCoi oscillated over to me, bent over my bedraggled penis lying on the table, and picked it up delicately between two well-manicured fingers.
“What have we here?” she inquired. “Poor little thing.”
“Up yours!” I snarled.
“An empty threat.” She let it drop.
“There’s why,” Inspector Greeknik told her. “Look at that.” He pointed at Liberty.
“Very nice.” Lieutenant DeCoi appraised Liberty’s naked body. “But I don’t swing that way.”
“He means that.” Detective Snowpush pointed more accurately.
Lieutenant DeCoi squinted. “Why, that’s . . . Yes, it is! I’d know it anywhere!” She fluttered her long eye-lashes at me. “Well, there’s certainly more to you than meets the eye.”
“Say, lieutenant,” Detective Slaughter said, “I hear Mama Macri got some new girls.”
“That’s right. Six virgins from L.A.”
“Come on, now! You couldn’t find six virgins in the whole state of California.”
“The Syndicate snatched a Brownie Patrol for her. But they’re not in the cribs yet. Not until the commissioner gets first pick.”
“Lucky commissioner! And that De Sade’s a lucky dog too. I should have joined the Vice Squad instead of Homicide. All that young stuff. . . .”
“THE BOMB!” Liberty and I shouted the reminder in unison.