Joseph Wambaugh - The Blue Knight

“You want to work for me? What could you do?”

“Anything. I know a phone number. Two numbers. You could take two other places just like this one. I’ll give you the numbers.”

“How do you know them?”

“I ain’t dumb, Mister Bronski. I listen and I learn things. When they’re drunk or high they talk to me, just like all men.”

“You mean Red Scalotta and his friends?”

“Please, Mister Bronski, I’ll give you the numbers, but you can’t take me to jail.”

“That’s not good enough, Reba,” said Charlie, sitting down in a violet-colored satin chair next to a messy dressing table. He lit a cigarette as Reba glanced from Charlie to me, her forehead wrinkled, chewing her lip. “That’s not near good enough,” said Charlie.

“Whadda you want, Mister Bronski? I’ll do anything you say.”

“I want the back,” said Charlie easily.

“What?”

“I want one of Red’s back offices. That’s all. Keep your phone spots. If we take too much right away it’ll burn you and I want you to keep working for Red. But I want his back office. I think you can help me.”

“Oh God, Mister Bronski. Oh Mother of God, I don’t know about things like that, I swear. How would I know? I’m just answering phones here. How would I know?”

“You’re Red’s girlfriend.”

“Red has other girlfriends!”

“You’re his special girlfriend. And you’re smart. You listen.”

“I don’t know things like that, Mister Bronski. I swear to God and His Mother. I’d tell you if I knew.”

“Have a cigarette,” said Charlie, and pushed one into Reba’s trembling hand. I lit it for her and she glanced up like a trapped little rabbit, choked on the smoke, then took a deep breath, and inhaled down the right pipe. Charlie let her smoke for a few seconds. He had her ready to break, which is what you want, and you shouldn’t wait, but she was obviously a ding-a-ling and you had to improvise when your subject is batty. He was letting her unwind, letting her get back a little confidence. Just for a minute.

“You wouldn’t protect Red Scalotta if it meant your ass going to jail, would you, Reba?”

“Hell no, Mister Bronski, I wouldn’t protect my mother if it meant that.”

“Remember when I busted you before? Remember how we talked about those big hairy bull dykes you meet in jail? Remember how scared you were? Did any of them bother you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you sleep in jail?”

“No, they bailed me out.”

“What about after you get your six months, Reba? Then you have to sleep in jail. Did you see any dildoes in jail?”

“What’s that?”

“Phony dicks.”

“I hate those things,” she shuddered.

“How would you like to wake up in the middle of the night with two big bull dykes working on you? And what’s more, how would you feel if you really started liking it? It happens all the time to girls in jail. Pretty soon you’re a stone butch, and then you might as well cut off that pretty hair, and strap down those big tits, because you’re not a woman anymore. Then you can lay up in those butch pads with a bunch of bull daggers and a pack of smelly house cats and drop pills and shoot junk because you can’t stand yourself.”

“Why’re you doing this to me, Mister Bronski?” said Reba, starting to sob again. She dropped the cigarette on the carpet and I picked it up and snuffed it. “Why do men like to hurt? You all hurt!”

“Does Red hurt you?” asked Charlie calmly, sweating a little as he lit another cigarette with the butt of the last one.

“Yes! He hurts!” she yelled, and Fuzzy stuck his head in the door to see what the shouting was about, but Charlie motioned him away while Reba sobbed.

“Does he make you do terrible things?” asked Charlie, and she was too hysterical to see he was talking to her like she was ten years old.

“Yes, the bastard! The freaky bastard. He hurts me! He likes to hurt! That fucking old freak!”

“I’ll bet he makes you do things with bull daggers,” said Charlie, glancing at me, and I realized I broke him in right. He wasn’t a guy to only stick it in halfway.

“He makes me do it, Mister Bronski,” said Reba. “I don’t enjoy it, I swear I don’t. I hate to do it with a woman. I wasn’t raised like that. It’s a terrible sin to do those things.”

“I’ll bet you don’t like taking action for him either. You hate sitting on this hot seat answering the phones, don’t you?”

“I do hate it, Mister Bronski. I do hate it. He’s so goddamn cheap. He just won’t give me money for anything. He makes me always work for it. I have to do those things with them two or three nights a week. And I have to sit here in this goddamn room and answer those goddamn phones and every minute I know some cop might be ready to break down the door and take me to jail. Oh, please help me, Mister Bronski.”

“Stop protecting him then,” said Charlie.

“He’ll kill me, Mister Bronski,” said Reba, and her pretty violet eyes were wide and round and her nostrils were flared, and you could smell the fear on her.

“He won’t kill you, Reba,” said Charlie soothingly. “You won’t get a jacket. He’ll never know you told me. We’ll make it look like someone else told.”

“No one else knows ,” she whispered, and her face was dead white.

“We’ll work it out, Reba. Stop worrying, we know how to protect people that help us. We’ll make it look like someone else set it up. I promise you, he’ll never know you told.”

“Tell me you swear to God you’ll protect me.”

“I swear to God I’ll protect you.”

“Tell me you swear to God I won’t go to jail.”

“We’ve got to book you, Reba. But you know Red’ll bail you out in an hour. When your case comes up I’ll personally go to Judge Bowers and you won’t go to jail behind that probation violation.”

“Are you a hundred percent sure?”

“I’m almost a hundred percent sure, Reba. Look, I’ll talk for you myself. Judges are always ready to give people another chance, you know that.”

“But that Judge Bowers is a bastard!”

“I’m a hundred percent sure, Reba. We can fix it.”

“You got another cigarette?”

“Let’s talk first. I can’t waste any more time.”

“If he finds out, I’m dead. My blood’ll be on you.”

“Where’s the back?”

“I only know because I heard Red one night. It was after he’d had his dirty fun with me and a girl named Josie that he brought with him. She was as sick and filthy as Red. And he brought another guy with him, a Jew named Aaron something.”

“Bald-headed guy, small, glasses and a gray moustache?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” said Reba.

“I know of him,” said Charlie, and now he was squirming around on the velvet chair, because he had the scent, and I was starting to get it too, even though I didn’t know who in the hell Aaron was.

“Anyway, this guy Aaron just watched Josie and me for a while and when Red got in bed with us, he told Aaron to go out in the living room and have a drink. Red was high as a kite that night, but at least he wasn’t mean. He didn’t hurt me. Can I please have that cigarette, Mister Bronski?”

“Here,” said Charlie, and his hand wasn’t quite as steady, which is okay, because that showed that good information could still excite him.

“Tastes good,” said Reba, dragging hard on the cigarette. “Afterwards, Red called a cab for Josie and sent her home, and him and Aaron started talking and I stayed in the bedroom. I was supposed to be asleep, but like I say, I’m not dumb, Mister Bronski, and I always listen and try to learn things.