Joseph Wambaugh - The Blue Knight

“You awake, Oliver?” I asked.

He opened one blue-veined eyelid. “Bumper, how’s it wi’choo?”

“Okay, Oliver. Gonna be a hot one again today.”

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ sticky. Let’s go in the shop.”

“Don’t have time. Listen, I was just wondering, you heard about this burglar that’s been ripping us downtown here in all the big hotels for the past couple months?”

“No, ain’t heard nothin’.”

“Well, this guy ain’t no ordinary hotel thief. I mean he probably ain’t none of the guys you ordinarily see around Raymond’s, but he might be a guy that you would sometimes see there. What the hell, even a ding-a-ling has a drink once in a while, and Raymond’s is convenient when you’re getting ready to rape about ten rooms across the street.”

“He a ding-a-ling?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he look like?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can I find him then, Bumper?”

“I don’t know, Oliver. I’m just having hunches now. I think the guy’s done burglaries before. I mean he knows how to shim doors and all that. And like I say, he’s a little dingy. I think he’s gonna stab somebody before too long. He carries a blade. A long blade, because he went clear through a mattress with it.”

“Why’d he stab a mattress?”

“He was trying to kill a teddy bear.”

“You been drinkin’, Bumper?”

I smiled, and then I wondered what the hell I was doing here because I didn’t know enough about the burglar to give a snitch something to work with. I was grabbing at any straw in the wind so I could hit a home run before walking off the field for the last time. Absolutely pathetic and sickening, I thought, ashamed of myself.

“Here’s five bucks,” I said to Oliver. “Get yourself a steak.”

“Jeez, Bumper,” he said, “I ain’t done nothin’ for it.”

“The guy carries a long-bladed knife and he’s a psycho and lately he takes these hotels at any goddamn hour of the day or night. He just might go to Raymond’s for a drink sometime. He just might use the restroom while you’re cleaning up and maybe he’ll be tempted to look at some of the stuff in his pockets to see what he stole. Or maybe he’ll be sitting at the bar and he’ll pull a pretty out of his pocket that he just snatched at the hotel, or maybe one of these sharp hotel burglars that hangs out at Raymond’s will know something, or say something, and you’re always around there. Maybe anything.”

“Sure, Bumper, I’ll call you right away I hear anything at all. Right away, Bumper. And you get any more clues you let me know, hey, Bumper?”

“Sure, Oliver, I’ll get you a good one from my clues closet.”

“Hey, that’s aw right,” Oliver hooted. He had no teeth in front, upper or lower. For a long time he had one upper tooth in front.

“Be seeing you, Oliver.”

“Hey, Bumper, wait a minute. You ain’t told me no funny cop stories in a long time. How ’bout a story?”

“I think you heard them all.”

“Come on, Bumper.”

“Well, let’s see. I told you about the seventy-five-year-old nympho I busted over on Main that night?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he hooted, “tell me that one again. That’s a good one.”

“I gotta go, Oliver, honest. But say, did I ever tell you about the time I caught the couple in the back seat up there in Elysian Park in one of those maker’s acres?”

“No, tell me, Bumper.”

“Well, I shined my light in there and here’s these two down on the seat, the old boy throwing the knockwurst to his girlfriend, and this young partner I’m with says, ‘What’re you doing there?’ And the guy gives the answer ninety percent of the guys do when you catch them in that position: ‘Nothing, Officer.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Oliver, his shaggy head bobbing.

“So I say to the guy, ‘Well, if you ain’t doing anything, move over there and hold my flashlight and lemme see what I can do.’”

“Whoooo, that’s funny,” said Oliver. “Whoooo, Bumper.”

He was laughing so hard he hardly saw me go, and I left him there holding his big hard belly and laughing in the sunshine.

I thought about telling Oliver to call Central Detectives instead of me, because I wouldn’t be here after today, but what the hell, then I’d have to tell him why I wouldn’t be here, and I couldn’t take another person telling me why I should or should not retire. If Oliver ever called, somebody’d tell him I was gone, and the information would eventually get to the dicks. So what the hell, I thought, pulling back into the traffic and breathing exhaust fumes. It would’ve been really something though, to get that burglar on this last day. Really something.

I looked at my watch and thought Cassie should be at school now, so I drove to City College and parked out front. I wondered why I didn’t feel guilty about Laila. I guess I figured it wasn’t really my fault.

Cassie was alone in the office when I got there. I closed the door, flipped my hat on a chair, walked over, and felt that same old amazement I’ve felt a thousand times over how well a woman fits in your arms, and how soft they feel.

“Thought about you all night,” she said after I kissed her a dozen times or so. “Had a miserable evening. Couple of bores.”

“You thought about me all night, huh?”

“Honestly, I did.” She kissed me again. “I still have this awful feeling something’s going to happen.”

“Every guy that ever went into battle has that feeling.”

“Is that what our marriage is going to be, a battle?”

“If it is, you’ll win, baby. I’ll surrender.”

“Wait’ll I get you tonight,” she whispered. “You’ll surrender all right.”

“That green dress is gorgeous.”

“But you still like hot colors better?”

“Of course.”

“After we get married I’ll wear nothing but reds and oranges and yellows…”

“You ready to talk?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Cruz gave me a talking-to-about you.”

“Oh?”

“He thinks you’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

“Go on,” she smiled.

“Well…”

“Yes?”

“Damn it, I can’t go on. Not in broad daylight with no drink in me…”

“What did you talk about, silly?”

“About you. No, it was more about me. About things I need and things I’m afraid of. Twenty years he’s my friend and suddenly I find out he’s a damned intellectual.”

“What do you need? What’re you afraid of? I can’t believe you’ve ever been afraid of anything.”

“He knows me better than you know me.”

“That makes me sad. I don’t want anyone knowing you better than I do. Tell me what you talked about.”

“I don’t have time right now,” I said, feeling a gas bubble forming. Then I lied and said, “I’m on the way to a call. I just had to stop for a minute. I’ll tell you all about it tonight. I’ll be at your pad at seven-thirty. We’re going out to dinner, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Then we’ll curl up on your couch with a good bottle of wine.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she smiled, that clean, hot, female smile that made me kiss her.

“See you tonight,” I whispered.

“Tonight,” she gasped, and I realized I was crushing her. She stood in the doorway and watched me all the way down the stairs.

I got back in the car and dropped two of each kind of pill and grabbed a handful from the glove compartment and shoved them in my pants pockets for later.

As I drove back on the familiar streets of the beat I wondered why I couldn’t talk to Cassie like I wanted. If you’re going to marry someone you should be able to tell her almost anything about yourself that she has a right to know.