The quietus was uttered by Ora Lee Tingle as she and Carolina Moon were bouncing half dressed across the grass toward Park View Street at 5:00 A.M.
She turned and yelled, “It was a swell choir practice, fellas! And don’t worry, Roscoe, we ain’t gonna start calling you a duck socker!”
THIRTEEN
CATULLUS
It was two weeks after that memorable choir practice before there was talk of going to MacArthur Park. Roscoe’s shootout with the ducks had unnerved everyone and had caused ten choirboys and two cocktail waitresses to study the newspapers the next day for any mention of persons hit with stray bullets in the vicinity of the park. There was none. They were ready to try again. It was scheduled for a Thursday night near the end of August. Harold Bloomguard intended to make sure all the choirboys left their guns in their cars.
“We can’t have any more shooting at ducks,” Harold had informed the others.
“How about shooting at fags?” Roscoe Rules had remarked.
“Believe it or not it’s kind of nice to get back in a radio car after two weeks on vice,” said Sam Niles to Harold Bloomguard the Tuesday night before.
“I was getting tired of those smelly rest rooms,” Harold agreed as he blew a spit bubble against the steering wheel.
Sam slouched in the black and white and glanced languidly at the traffic which was light at this time of night. He didn’t mind when Harold drove toward the Miracle Mile for a change of scenery.
“Remember the whore who lived there?” asked Sam as they passed a freshly painted lemon and white townhouse apartment building.
“Yeah, sometimes vice was fun,” said Harold.
Then Sam Niles said something he would profoundly regret: “Just for kicks, drive by Gina Summers’ apartment, right off Wilshire.”
“Who?”
“That sadist whore, the one who takes those special tricks and does a number on them in her little torture chamber.”
“Oh yeah,” Harold said. “I never did see her. I remember you and Baxter talking about her.”
“Wanna see if she’s undressing up by her window tonight?” Sam asked. “Then you can see her. Tits like avocados.”
“All right!” Harold said.
When Harold pulled to the curb beside Gina Summers’ apartment and turned the lights out, Sam Niles said, “Yeah, she’s home. See the light up there in the sixth floor corner apartment? Just sit for a minute, see if she parades in front of the window naked.”
“Got lots of time.” Harold had his eyes glued to the light.
But after they sat for five minutes Harold got antsy and said, “Well?”
“No action tonight. Let’s split,” said Sam.
Just then Gina Summers walked in front of the window, a long piece of leather draped around her neck. She unbuttoned her blouse and stood naked to the waist, the leather resting on one breast as she lowered the shade.
“Outta sight!” Harold Bloomguard exclaimed.
“Harold, that was a man’s belt, wasn’t it?” Sam Niles asked.
“It was a long fat leather belt. Mighta been a whip!”
“Goddamn. She’s got a trick up there.”
“So what?”
“So what? Do you know that Scuz and Baxter and I stake out four nights straight trying to close the vice complaint on this bitch? We never got close. Now she’s got a trick up there. And she’s got her whip!”
“So? We’re not working vice anymore.”
“It’s police work, isn’t it? Besides, Scuz’d get his rocks off if a couple of bluesuits brought in Gina Summers on a vice pinch when his squad’s been working on her so long.”
“Come on, Sam,” Harold said. “It’s only a lousy misdemeanor like Scuz always said. Besides we can’t sneak and peek in full uniform.”
“Let’s try. You might get to see her bare ass, Harold.”
“That’s different. Let’s go,” Harold Bloomguard said, and the partners gathered up their hats and flashlights and locked the radio car.
“But how the hell we gonna get a violation?” Harold asked.
They crossed the street, looking up at the lighted window, entered the unlocked apartment building, took the carpeted stairs two at a time, clear to the fourth floor.
“We have to be able to hear the offer and the action,” Sam said.
“That’s impossible,” Harold answered, puffing up the stairs.
“I’ve got good ears.”
“Scuz said never to perjure yourself for a chickenshit vice arrest, remember?”
“Don’t worry. Did you see the fire escape by her window? Baxter and I always had it planned if we saw a trick inside we’d go out on the fire escape. It’s only three feet from her bedroom. I’m positive I could hear anything that was happening from there.”
“Well,” Harold shrugged and then they stopped and rested on the fifth landing.
Harold longed for the elevator. But he knew why Sam disliked the confinement.
At last they reached the sixth floor, and while Harold Bloomguard had second and third thoughts about doing vice work in uniform, Sam Niles climbed out on the fire escape and was squatting in the darkness catching his breath. Then Sam heard female laughter and a muffled male voice in Gina Summers’ bedroom.
He took off his hat and glasses and wiped his forehead on his blue woolen shirtsleeve and cleaned his glasses with his handkerchief, catching a breeze near the rooftops.
He listened. The voices were low but after three minutes he heard a woman’s voice say, “Is this what you want?”
And then the crack of leather and a man’s gasp of pain.
“I can do better, honey. This isn’t much,” said the woman’s voice again, followed by another crack and a man’s cry and then another crack and a groan.
Then the woman’s voice got more husky and guttural. She said, “You feel like you belong to me now, don’t you, baby? Well you do, you bastard! You worthless son of a bitch! Right now Gina owns you! You’re not a man. You’re an animal! Gina’s animal!”
Then there were three cracks of leather and unbroken groaning. Sam Niles was chilled from the rib cage to the top of his head and furiously beckoned for Harold to climb out on the fire escape.
“But I can do better.” The woman’s laugh was like a bark. “I can really hurt, baby, you give me a chance. There’s no extra charge. Same price.”
And the man whimpered and moaned. Then there were three quick sharp cracks. And silence.
Harold Bloomguard crawled through the window and huddled next to his partner during the quiet moments.
“We’ve got it,” Sam whispered. “Goddamnit, we’ve got it. I heard it. The money offer. The act.”
Sam crawled back through the window into the hallway and Harold followed him down the hall where they ducked into an alcove.
“I heard her saying something about no extra charge,” Sam said. “I heard the act. It’s a good legal pinch!”
“What act? Screwing?”
“No. She’s whipping some guy!”
“Far out!” whistled Harold Bloomguard. “I sure never made a bust like this. Sex, money. We got her for prostitution. And him. Wait, is whipping considered a sex act?”
“I think so,” Sam Niles said, putting his hat on and pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Isn’t it?”
“You got me. I haven’t had that fantasy yet,” said Harold Bloomguard who thought he probably would by the time he got in bed tonight.
“Let’s go. I say we’ve got her,” Sam said. “We’ll just wait until he comes out…”
“Can’t we knock? I don’t wanna waste the whole night here. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Okay let’s go. They’re probably through by now. Unless he’s gonna let her beat him to death.”
While Harold stood back against the wall Sam Niles knocked at the door. There was no response so he knocked again, saying, “Miss Summers!”