: Margolin: The Last Innocent Man

“Are we all here?” he asked rhetorically. He had known the precise number of people in the room every minute since he had arrived.

“Okay, for those of you who have not been keeping up with the captain’s weekly bulletin on developments in the law, last week the public defender filed a motion claiming that the equal-protection rights of Vonetta Renae King were being violated…”

“They got us there,” Ortiz called out. “Vonetta’s been violated more than any whore I know.”

Coffin giggled and Ryder stared at him. Coffin covered his mouth and coughed.

“Is it all right if I continue, Bert?” Ryder asked in a tired voice. He knew there was no way to keep Ortiz from acting the clown. He also knew that Ortiz was one of his best vice cops. It all balanced out.

“As I was saying, the public defender is claiming that the prostitution laws are being unfairly enforced, because only the…er…females are being arrested. Since the statute makes anyone guilty who offers or agrees to have sex for a fee, the PD is saying that that includes the trick too.

“Chief Galton agrees. You ladies will work with a male cover. You are to stay within eye contact at all times.”

“Sergeant?” Darlene asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking about this. We’ll be dressing up like prostitutes, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what about entrapment? I mean, isn’t that planting the idea in the john’s head?”

“The legal adviser said it’s not, but it’s best to let him bring up the subject of sex and the price.”

“How far are we going to have to go to make a bust?” Louise asked.

“Yours is made pretty well already,” Ortiz said. Coffin laughed, then looked embarrassed and stopped.

“Come on, Bert, for chrissakes. This is important,” Ryder said.

And it was important, Darlene thought. And goddamn Ortiz and Coffin and Neale. Why wouldn’t they take the women seriously instead of treating them like secretaries in uniform?

“That’s a good question. The way the law reads, you don’t have to…er…uh, have sexual relations with the trick to make a case. The law is broken if the male offers or agrees to have sexual intercourse, which you ladies know what that is, or deviate sexual intercourse, which is, uh, as the statute says, contact between the, er, genitals of one person and the, er, mouth or, er, anus of another.”

Ryder blushed. Actually blushed! Darlene wanted to laugh, but it was too sad a state of affairs. Why wouldn’t he say “blow job” or “asshole” or any of the other words he used when women weren’t around?

“So if you get such an offer for money, you can make the arrest.”

“How are we going to work this?” Ortiz asked.

“I don’t want any arrests made alone on the street. We don’t want anyone freaking out on us. Bring the trick to your male cover. There’s less likelihood of trouble with a man there.”

“What if the trick wants you to get in his car?”

“Absolutely not. We don’t get into cars. I don’t want you ladies isolated from your cover. If a trick asks you to get in his car, tell him there are cops around, and they’ll make a pinch if they see you get in the car. Suggest a meet where your male cover is waiting. If the trick insists, brush him off.

“Okay, any more questions? No? Good. Now, I want good collars. There are certain judges, and you know who I’m talking about, who are going to jump at a chance to throw out these cases. You just wait until we bag a doctor or some big-shot attorney. So don’t give them the chance.

“All right, I want Tallant and Coffin to work the area around Ninth and Burnside. Louise, you and Neale take the area by the Hilton. And Darlene and Bert, you take the park blocks.”

DARLENE STRAIGHTENED HERtight black miniskirt and dipped her knees so she could adjust her blond Afro wig in the sideview mirror of the unmarked police car. The California-surfer-girl effect produced by her straight blond hair, large blue eyes, and deep tan had been destroyed by false eyelashes, tons of pancake makeup, and gobs of red lipstick. Grotesque, she thought, as she put the finishing touches on the wig.

“Not bad, Darlene,” Ortiz chuckled. “You may be in the wrong line of work.”

“Stuff it, Bert,” she snapped, still angry at him for the incident in the squad room.

“You know, Darlene, your trouble is you never took the time to get to know me. Now, if we had a drink after the shift, you’d get to see the real me.”

“Look,” she said, straightening and looking him in the eye, “I don’t have time for any of your macho shit tonight. Hand me my coat, please.”

There was heavy emphasis on the “please.” Ortiz laughed and pulled a cheap rabbit coat out of the trunk. Darlene was wearing a fire-engine-red sweater that left her little room to breathe. She kept the coat open so the sweater showed. Black panty hose and high black boots completed her official whore uniform. She checked her purse to make sure she had not forgotten her service revolver.

Ortiz had picked a darkened parking lot for his surveillance post. An office building occupied the other half of the block on the same side of the street. There was a jewelry store, a shoe-repair shop, a beauty salon, and an all-night cafe across the way. The only illumination came from a series of evenly spaced streetlights.

“What’s the plan?” Ortiz asked, suddenly all business.

Darlene looked up and down the street. It was a one-way street going south.

“I’ll walk down the block to the corner, across from the cafe. That way I can get the traffic on both streets. Will you be able to see me from here?”

“Yeah. Just stay under the streetlight on the corner. This building blocks a little of my view.”

“If I get a proposition that’s good enough for an arrest, I’ll pat my wig. Then I’ll have the trick come to the lot.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Darlene hadn’t thought about the story she would use to lure the trick to Ortiz. Ortiz leaned against the side of the car watching her.

“I’ll tell him I have a car in the lot and the keys to my room are in it. How’s that?”

Ortiz stood up and stretched.

“Good. There’s enough shadow here to keep me Kidden until you’re almost to the car.”

“Okay,” Darlene said. She turned her back to Ortiz and started across the parking lot. There were butterflies in her stomach, and she had a sudden urge to go to the bathroom. She always did when she was nervous, and she was suddenly nervous and a little scared.

“Darlene,” Ortiz called after her, “don’t take any chances.”

DARLENE HAD BEENstanding near the corner for fifteen minutes when the beige Mercedes drove by the first time. She got a fast look at the driver as he went by. Blond, good-looking. He had smiled at her. Darlene had smiled back, hoping he would stop, but he hadn’t. Darlene had no idea why she had brought the rabbit coat along. It was way too hot for it. If she didn’t get a nibble soon, she was determined to take it back to the lot. She glanced back toward Ortiz but couldn’t spot him in the shadows.

The Mercedes drove by again and pulled to the curb across the street. The man signaled to her and she walked toward him, remembering to swing her hips as she went. She had to concentrate to keep from stumbling in her high-heel boots.

“Nice night,” the man said. He was a little nervous, but trying to be cool, Darlene thought.

“Nice enough,” she said. “What are you doin’ drivin’ around in this big old car all by your lonesome?”

The man smiled. Probably married, Darlene thought. Where was the little woman while Papa was out cavorting? Bridge club? Maybe home watching TV while hubby is at a “business” meeting. She could imagine how that pretty face was going to look when Papa had to explain to Mama that he had been arrested for prostitution.