Joseph Wambaugh - The Blue Knight

“Damn, Zoot!” I finally exploded. “You been a friggin’ scammer all your life, fracturing every friggin’ law you had nuts enough to crack, and you sit here now acting like a pious nun. If you wanna play your own tune you better damn well learn to dance to it, and right now you’re gonna do the friggin’ boogaloo, you goddamn hemorrhoid!”

I took a step toward Zoot’s chair and he snapped up straight in his seat saying, “Okay, Morgan, okay. Whadda you want? For God’s sake I’ll tell you what you wanna know! You don’t have to get tough!”

“Is the number you phone a relay?” repeated Charlie calmly.

“I think so,” Zoot nodded. “Sounds like some goofy broad don’t know nothing about the business. I been calling this same broad for six months now. She’s probably just some stupid fucking housewife, sitting on a hot seat and taking them bets for somebody she don’t even know.”

“Usually record them on Formica,” Charlie explained to me, “then somebody phones her several times a day and takes the action she wrote down. She can wipe the Formica in case the vice cops come busting down her door. She probably won’t even know who pays her or where the phone calls come from.”

“Fuck no, she ain’t gonna know,” said Zoot, looking at me. “This shit’s too big, Morgan. It’s too goddamn big. You ain’t gonna bother nobody by rousting me. You don’t understand, Morgan. People want us in business. What’s a guy get for bookmaking? Even a big guy? A fucking fine. Who does time? You ever see a book get joint time?” said Zoot to Charlie, who shook his head. “Fuck no, you ain’t and you ain’t going to. Everybody bets with bookies for chrissake and those that don’t, they like some other kind of vice. Give up, Morgan. You been a cop all these years and you don’t know enough to give up fighting it. You can’t save this rotten world.”

“I ain’t trying to, Zoot,” I said. “I just love the friggin’ battle!”

I went down the hall to the coffee room, figuring that Charlie should be alone with Zoot. Now that I had played the bad guy, he could play the good guy. An interrogation never works if it’s not private, and Charlie was a good bullshitter. I had hopes he could get more out of Zoot because I had him loosened up. Anytime you get someone making speeches at you, you have a chance. If he’s shaky about one thing, he might be about something else. I didn’t think you could buy Zoot with money, he was too scared of everything. But being scared of us as well as the mob, he could be gotten to. Charlie could handle him.

Cruz Segovia was in the coffee room working on his log. I came in behind him. There was no one else in the room and Cruz was bent over the table writing in his log. He was so slim that even in his uniform he looked like a little boy bent over doing his homework. His face was still almost the same as when we were in the academy and except for his gray hair he hadn’t changed much. He was barely five feet eight and sitting there he looked really small.

“Qué pasó, compadre,” I said, because he always said he wished I was Catholic and could have been the godfather for his last seven kids. His kids considered me their godfather anyway, and he called me compadre .

“Órale, panzón,” he said, like a pachuco, which he put on for me. He spoke beautiful Spanish and could also read and write Spanish, which is rare for a Mexican. He was good with English too, but the barrios of El Paso Texas died hard, and Cruz had an accent when he spoke English.

“Where you been hiding out all day?” I said, putting a dime in the machine and getting Cruz a fresh cup, no cream and double sugar.

“You bastard,” he said. “Where’ve I been hiding. Communication’s been trying to get you all day! Don’t you know that funny little box in your car is called a radio and you’re supposed to listen for your calls and you’re even supposed to handle them once in a while?”

“Chale, chale. Quit being a sergeant,” I said. “Gimme some slack. I been bouncing in and out of that black-and-white machine so much I haven’t heard anything.”

“You’ll be a beat cop all your life,” he said, shaking his head. “You have no use at all for your radio, and if you didn’t have your best friend for a sergeant, your big ass’d be fired.”

“Yeah, but I got him,” I grinned, poking him in the shoulder and making him swear.

“Seriously, Bumper,” he said, and he didn’t have to say “seriously” because his large black eyes always turned down when he was serious. “Seriously, the skipper asked me to ask you to pay a little more attention to the radio. He heard some of the younger officers complaining about always handling the calls in your district because you’re off the radio walking around so much.”

“Goddamn slick-sleeved rookies,” I said, hot as hell, “they wouldn’t know a snake in the grass if one jumped up and bit them on the dick. You seen these goddamn rookies nowadays, riding down the friggin’ streets, ogling all the cunt, afraid to put on their hats because it might ruin their hair styles. Shit, I actually saw one of these pretty young fuzz sitting in his black-and-white spraying his hair! I swear, Cruz, most of these young cats wouldn’t know their ass from a burnt biscuit.”

“I know, Bumper,” Cruz nodded with sympathy. “And the skipper knows a whole squad of these youngsters couldn’t do half the police work you old-timers do. That’s why nobody says anything to you. But hombre , you have to handle some calls once in a while instead of walking that beat.”

“I know,” I said, looking at my coffee.

“Just stay on the air a little more.”

“Okay, okay, you’re the macho . You got the huevos de oro. ”

Cruz smiled now that he was through stepping on my meat. He was the only one that ever nagged me or told me what to do. When someone else had ideas along those lines, they’d hit Cruz with them, and if he thought I needed talking to, he’d do it. They figured I’d listen to Cruz.

“Don’t forget, loco , you’re coming to dinner tonight.”

“Can you see me forgetting dinner at your pad?”

“You sure Cassie can’t come with you?”

“She sure wishes she could. You know Friday’s the last day for her at school and they’re throwing a little party for her. She has to be there.”

“I understand,” said Cruz. “What day is she actually going up north? She decided yet?”

“Next week she’ll be packed and gone.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just take your vacation now and cut out with her. What’s the sense of waiting till the end of the month? That vacation pay isn’t worth being away from her for a few weeks, is it? She might come to her senses and ask herself why the hell she’s marrying a mean old bastard like Bumper Morgan.”

I wondered why I didn’t tell Cruz that I’d decided to do just that. What the hell was the secret? Friday was going to be my last day, I never cared anything about the vacation pay. Was I really afraid to say it?

“Gonna be strange leaving everything,” I muttered to my coffee cup.

“I’m glad for you, Bumper,” said Cruz, running his slim fingers through his heavy gray hair, “If I didn’t have all the kids I’d get the hell out too, I swear. I’m glad you’re going.”

Cruz and me had talked about it lots of times the last few years, ever since Cassie came along and it became inevitable that I’d marry her and probably pull the pin at twenty years instead of staying thirty like Cruz had to do. Now that it was here though, it seemed like we’d never discussed it at all. It was so damn strange.

“Cruz, I’m leaving Friday,” I blurted. “I’m going to see Cassie and tell her I’ll leave Friday. Why wait till the end of the month?”