Check.
Rice said, “That Takamina guy’s a beast. I pondered killing him for a minute there.”
Kapek said, “You should have. I know this Chink’s selling Jap shrunken heads.”
Lunceford said, “I heard about that. Frisco PD put out a bulletin. They found twenty-one decapitated Japs in the bay.”
Rice said, “Remember Pearl Harbor.”
Kapek said, “I remember — but don’t tell my draft board that.”
The squadroom was jammed floor-to-rafters. Elmer tagged boxes and logged shit. Hey, check this:
R. “Banzai Bob” Yoshida/DR #8619645/nine spike-studded dick sheaths, four blood-flecked samurai swords.
Lunceford said, “Ouch.”
Rice said, “The guy told me he used the swords to kill chickens. Some Jap voodoo ritual. He supplies the rice bowls on Alameda.”
Kapek said, “Yeah, and them riceheads feed the slop they cook to white cops.”
Ed Satterlee walked in. Elmer clocked him. The kibitzers flashed fuck-the-Fed looks.
Satterlee hooked a finger. Elmer dumped his confiscation box and trailed him out to the hall.
“I’m in a bind tonight, Elmer. I figured you could help me out.”
Elmer said, “Short notice, but okay.”
“I’ve got a mark set up with one of Brenda’s girls, but I’ve got nobody to work the camera. The gig just fell in my lap.”
“And the girl’s all primed to pump him?”
Satterlee lit a cigarette. “That’s right. Annie Staples. She could get the sphinx to cut loose.”
College Girl Annie. The bobby-sox type. Woof!!! Woof!!! Ivy League threads and long blond hair.
“Who’s the mark?”
“An informant of mine. A geezer named Saul Lesnick.”
The name reverberated. It reprised some Kay Lake dish. La Kay worked old Saul for Bill Parker. She’d mentioned some upcoming soirée. Old Saul was sure to attend.
Elmer said, “Okay, Ed. I’d be happy to help out.”
The lovebirds showed at midnite. Elmer crouched in the wall peek. Annie winked at the two-way mirror. Elmer yocked and rolled film.
The birds peeled and hit the sheets. Doc Saul looked cancer-cough consumptive. Annie vibrated Viking Vixen Supreme.
Perfunctory woo-woo ensued. Annie rode old Saul. She straddled him and found the fit. She faced the mirror and went mock craaaaazy.
Elmer timed the ride. It ran 4.8 minutes and felt practiced. Elmer nailed the gestalt.
Annie’s Ed the Fed’s mock girlfriend. She’s a shakedown pro. Fey Edgar Hoover looooves this shit. He watches it and slams the ham. It justifies his political agenda. He thus entraps Red slime.
Annie disengaged. She patted Saul’s pecker and walked to a sideboard. She poured two Drambuies and spritzed in seltzer. Saul lit cigarettes.
The lovebirds cozied in. Annie sipped her drink and blew smoke rings. She basked nude. Old Saul covered himself.
Talk hit the wall mikes. Elmer goosed the volume. Saul said, “...and Hitler’s not what people think he is. He’s more subtle than that.”
Annie patted her mouth. It expressed big ennui. Elmer yuk-yukked.
“The war’s a yawn. I’ve had it up to here. My sister joined the Wacs, because she’s a lezbo, and it’s full of young tail. She looks like the Bride of Frankenstein, and she got fired from her gym-teacher job for honking this girl on the volleyball team.”
Old Saul chained cigarettes. “That confirms my point about Hitler. He places a premium on physical culture. His Aryan breeding program impresses me. He subsidizes good Nordic stock and pays the females a breeding bonus. He’s convinced that the selective breeding of superior specimens can eliminate the specter of congenital disease.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “Okay, but what about good looks? I look good, and so do my mom and dad. But my sister looks like something the cat dragged in.”
Saul coughed into his handkerchief. Elmer yocked. The old hebe dug the Nazis. It was unrequited love.
“Racial science is still in its infancy. Comrade Stalin should put his people to work. We can’t let the Right ace out the Left here. Stalin’s designs are humane. He’ll implement compulsory breeding from a workers’ perspective.”
Annie patted her mouth. “You’re putting me to sleep.”
“What shall we talk about? You’re eager to learn. It’s what I like most about you.”
Annie tickled old Saul. Old Saul giggled. She swatted him with a pillow. Old Saul evinced glee.
“You like my big breasts and long legs, and these collegiate outfits that Brenda makes me wear. Do you know how many pairs of saddle shoes I’ve got now?”
Saul went Oy vey. “All right, then. What shall we talk about?”
“That party you mentioned last time. You said all these music exiles and movie stars would be there.”
“Oh, yes. At Otto Klemperer’s. I saved his life, you know. I diagnosed his brain tumor and got him into surgery, jack flash.”
“You’re heroic, sweetie. They should put you on the cover of Time magazine.”
Old Saul went tut-tut. “Comrade Stalin deserves it more than I do.”
“Will he be at the party?”
“No, but Orson Welles will be. I know you, Annie. Orson’s your favorite. You can’t fool me.”
Annie crushed her cigarette. “He should lose weight. I like my men lean.”
Old Saul laughed. “Like me?”
“You’re too lean, sweetie. I saw a newsreel at the Wiltern last night. The Japs captured these prisoners somewhere. They looked emaciated, like you sort of do.”
Old Saul glared. Elmer mind-read him. You dumb goyishe twat.
Annie said, “Come on, baby. Let’s get back to Mr. Welles.”
Old Saul sighed. “All right, Comrade Welles. He’s going out on one of FDR’s diplomatic missions, to Latin America, so that he can shtup Dolores del Rio and espouse the Red cause with all the gifted-dilettante fervor he’s capable of, which is considerable. He’s been my analysand dating back to his radio days, and his best work isn’t Citizen Kane, believe me. It’s the smut films he makes with big-name movie stars. You wouldn’t believe the names.”
Annie put out big eyes. The mike volume glitched. Elmer caught “Kurt Weill,” “Bertolt Brecht,” “Spanish Civil War.” He goosed the knob and replugged a wire. He caught “Meyer Gelb,” “analysand,” “incendiary whiz.” He caught “badly burned” and “battle with Franco’s Falange.”
The glitch unglitched. Full volume kicked on. Old Saul said, “I saved his life, too. I’ve got a Chinaman pal. He’s a plastic surgeon, and he performed skin grafts on Meyer.”
Elmer snagged it. The surgeon was Lin Chung. Who else but? It’s who you know and who you blow—
Annie said, “I thought Terry Lux was the big plastic surgeon. I tricked with him once. He told me he was America First, and the world’s greatest plastics man. He said he could turn my ugly sister into Betty Grable.”
Old Saul shrugged. “Terry’s Terry. He’s as right as I’m left, and sometimes the twain shall meet. The war’s created odd alliances. The left and right converge to acknowledge the shuck of democracy. My analysand Claire De Haven and her cop lover underline that perception.”
Elmer snagged it. Wooo — Claire the D. and El Dudster Alert.
Annie lit a cigarette. “You told me about her. She’s a socialite, but she’s Communist up the wazoo.”
Old Saul sipped Drambuie. “I’d call her a morphine-addicted dilettante before I even addressed her speciously reasoned politics. And, I’d add that her cop lover is an evil brute, and that Claire’s out for thrills, plain and simple. They’re in Mexico now, and Claire and I have phone sessions twice a week. She’s behaving paranoically, I’m afraid. She thinks that a transplanted prairie tart named Kay something stabbed her lover last month, and I can in no way dissuade her.”