Carson Calloway sat with Dr. Peter Skelly in the professor’s hot, cluttered, third floor walk-up and apologized. “I can see that we’ve been negligent on a few of the studies, Pete. Lulu LaRue was my fault, I should’ve known to watch more closely where possible current criminal cases are concerned. That fucking blew up in my face. Turned out the kid was far younger than the specified criteria too.” Calloway scratched his temple. “Ah … sorry. Then there was this last week’s subject, Dorothy Peters. Shit, another one that obviously fits none of your requirements. Listen Doc, I’m gonna try harder here. I guarantee the remainder of the interviews will be sterling.”

Skelly, flipped through the transcripts, dropping loose sheets of paper and pushing aside a mountain of tape reels. He fingered his horn rim glasses higher on his nose and finally focused on Calloway. He grinned and stood, with jerky motions he tiptoed his way around clumps of reports and books and dug into his refrigerator. Bringing out two beers, he danced his way back and tossed one to his guest. “Are you crazy?”

Carson gulped, blinked. “Huh? I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry! Sorry? I’m over here wondering how I’ll ever repay you for the unbelievable gems of information you’ve been giving me and you’re apologizing? Fuck, Carson! This shit is amazing!”

“Huh?”

Skelly bounced to his feet and paced a small, cleared area on the floor. “A rebellious, rich kid looking for revenge against daddy? A sad, neglected middle class housewife? Do you know what you’ve uncovered here?”

“What?”

“Think about it, Calloway. If this single study by a single detail in a single precinct in a single city uncovered these two surprising test subjects … can you imagine? There must be the same scenarios in a hundred cities all across America! Kinsey is right. Sexuality has completely crossed all barriers!”

“Uh …” Calloway cleared his throat. This sure wasn’t what he expected. “So … you want me to continue?”

“Hell yeah I want you to continue. And about that criteria? Toss it out the window. Find the most intriguing, unusual test subjects in the Saturday lock up and keep up the good work!”

w

The men were gathered exactly on time and Calloway was grinning like a Cheshire cat, couldn’t wait to tell them that the studies would continue. He’d warned them of the possible, abrupt end to the detail, as results were necessary for the Captain and the good doctor. Dudley Smith was getting results; his detectives were improving by leaps and bounds. And thanks to Doc Skelly, not only could they continue doing the Saturday interviews, they could completely ignore the original criteria for choosing test subjects. No longer were they required to talk to standard, run of the mill hookers with stories they already knew like the back of their hands. It was going to be deeper now, more informative, surprising and a hell of a lot more interesting. They’ll be looking for the Dorothy Peters and the Lulu LaRues in the line up.

But before Calloway could open his mouth, Dudley Smith charged into the lock up and gave a glare no grown man would question without pissing his own pants. Calloway stepped aside as the Captain sniffed and scowled then looked over the collection of prostitutes. His eyes fell on a very familiar face.

This woman had been turning tricks since Dudley was in uniform. Granted, at the time Gilda was just a kid committing offenses that should have landed her in a youth correctional camp, but the broad had spunk and a hell of a lot of connections. The paunchy, frizzle haired woman glaring back at Dudley was far older than he remembered, but then again, so was he. He’d used Gilda’s services for years, until she gave him the clap that almost cost him his marriage. Needless to say, a man climbing the political career ladder had no room for favorite whores, especially whores of such low caliber, so he turned his back on her. Gilda could suck like no woman he ever knew. Pity, giving that up. No mouth had touched Captain Smith’s cock in years and years. It actually twitched, gazing at the once pretty woman and wondering if she still had it.

Gilda, a massive woman with wild yellow hair and a thick layer of Max Factor, recognized the tall Captain immediately. She thought to smile, but noted his scowl of disapproval. Her eyes darted along the detectives then back at Smith. She was sure she’d never get the free pass others were getting at the Saturday night line up in the Hollywood Station. She tossed up her hands and turned to leave the room. A uniform stopped her.

“Where do you think you’re going, lady?”

“Back to holding. They ain’t gonna pick me and we all know it,” Gilda spat and tossed a fierce glower over her shoulder at the Captain.

“We’ll take her.” Dudley growled and shot a glare at Calloway. “Get her file and let’s get moving, Detective.”

w

Set up at the Victory was standard; Calloway and Exley handling the recording equipment, the men assembling at the tables and the test subject respectfully offered a chair and a glass of water. She refused both, standing on her sturdy, thick legs, hands on her substantial hips and an irreverent grin on her lips.

“So,” she said, batting her eyes. “How’s this work. I do you one at a time, or just lay back and let you take turns?” Her eyes slid to the Captain. “Dud? You wanna go first? Been a while since I sucked you off. Come on, handsome” she wiggled her finger. “You know ya want it.”

Everyone was silent and Calloway readied to grip the Captain, hold him back or even toss him out, but to his surprise, Dudley grinned and shook his head. “No thank you, Gilda. Today we’re going to explore something else. Today, these men are going to ask you several questions about how you lowered yourself to this particular state in life.”

“Captain,” hissed Calloway. Dudley scowled.

Gilda felt her knees weaken and was shocked when the young one took her arm and led her to the chair. She looked up into his kind face and whispered. “What’s gonna happen to me?”

“Just answer the questions ma’am, then you’ll be released. Nothing is going to happen,” Ed said quietly.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to, fat Gilda?” spat Dudley, enjoying the shocked expressions from the men around him. He’d shake up this detail, find the dirt on Calloway and end this fiasco. “Start the recording machine, Calloway. Aren’t we here to collect data?”

“Captain,” Carson said quietly. “There’s a procedure.”

“Start … the … recording machine.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vincennes leaned back and watched Dudley. Stensland rubbed his chin and wondered exactly what the Captain was up to. It wasn’t until the next statement came out of Smith’s mouth that Bud kicked his partner under the table. Stens stifled a grin and remained silent.

“I know what you’re up to Gilda, we just need you to say the words,” Dudley spoke calmly, but he was just playing a hunch. It was how they used to get information out of the whore twenty years earlier. Having no clue what she was doing when she was off her back, it was always best to intimidate her by letting her think they were watching. Paranoia was Gilda’s biggest enemy and a formidable tool in a good interrogator’s hands. “Spit it all out, woman, or all deals are off.

“You said you’d release me after this!”

“Not likely. But how bad it comes down for you … now that depends on your cooperation, now doesn’t it. Start at the top.”

And the frightened bird started to sing.

Instinct pushed Bud White’s pen to his notepad and he was writing wildly.

“Motherfucker,” gasped Stensland as he too flipped pages in his own notes.

Exley blinked and Vincennes chuckled. Jack looked at Dudley and actually nodded a salute. Now this was an interesting outcome. White and Stansland had been working the case for weeks. Who’da ever thought Calloway’s stupid study would crack it wide opened? Jack grinned and watched the pieces fall in place.

“I didn’t start it!” cried the agitated test subject. “You know I never mean to get tangled in this shit, Dud, you know! But Raker Williams owes me so much money! He could never pay, no matter what … service … he wanted. So he promised me I’d get a piece of the take! He promised! I turn him in, I get nothing, Dud! Nothing!”

“Sure you do, Gilda. You get to walk out of here. Now, continue.”

Gilda paced and cried, tears streaking down her thick makeup and dripping milky drops onto her blouse. “It’s probably starting right now,” she gasped, looked around, desperate to see a kind expression. She was terrified. Gilda had not one or two but three children tucked away in fine schools back east. She worked hard to keep them there and even harder to keep her true identity hidden from the entire world. Once, she liked Dudley Smith a lot, even thought to tell him her secret but thankfully never did. She stood to gain enough for an entire year’s tuition for her kids all on one take. If she turned Williams in, said any more, she was screwed … and screwed royally. She gulped.

“Gilda, we’ll catch Williams sooner or later, but you help us catch him tonight, I’ll personally make a donation to assist against what the boyo owes you,” Dudley lied elegantly and poor Gilda believed him. She knew by the look on the men’s faces exactly which two needed what she had. She sighed and spoke directly to the younger of the team, the man with powerful muscles and sparkling blue-green eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Detective White.”

“Detective White, in fifteen minutes Raker Williams and twelve of his men are taking a huge shipment of imported goods … taking it directly from the peer at the Port of Los Angeles and taking it to his contact in Redondo Beach. I got the exact address ‘cause I’m supposed to meet him there to help unload.” And finally, Gilda melted down onto the chair. “Fuck,” she hissed.

w

Exley was actually pleased for White and Stensland, but he hated how Dudley had shouldered his way into the whole process. Ah well, he thought as he drove from the Victory. It looked like this one was a sacrifice. Admittedly, Gilda made a fairly boring test subject anyway and he was sure there was nothing about such a woman they or Dr. Skelly could learn. Chalk it up to a Stensland/White win and a study loss. No problem, there was always next week.

He chuckled aloud, realizing that whatever the Captain had in mind had just backfired on him. After all, the detail was designed to not only gather information, but make the detectives better at their work. Bud White and Richard Stensland were on their way to making their third major case in six weeks. Even Dudley had to admit … that was improvement of perhaps … oh … three hundred percent.

He whistled a pleasant melody as he parked and trotted across the street to the diner. Ed looked at his wrist watch, a full twenty minutes early. He took his favorite booth and ordered coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich. Dorothy had told him he looked a little thin and pale and he wanted to show her he was doing as she asked. Eating better, eating more often and eating the kind of food he liked most. His mom never made him a grilled cheese sandwich, but for two weeks he’d been meeting Dorothy to talk at the diner and taking her recommendation for a better diet.

“If you were my son, I’d be making you meatloaf and grilled cheese sandwiches. That would put some color in your cheeks, Ed.”

Her words still rang in his ears and as he chewed melted cheese on toast, he wondered for the thousandth time … exactly why was he doing spending so much time with Mrs. Peters? Was she a mother figure to him? A friend? He felt deep concern for her and often thought of her as an older sister. He wanted to make sure she wasn’t walking the streets. He wanted her to choose to stop taking money for sex, to change her life and leave her husband.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Dorothy said as she slid into the booth across from Ed.

He smiled and took her in. She smelled wonderful, Ivory soap and some kind of lavender perfume. Her hair was simple and her makeup even simpler and this pleased Ed more than anything. She was dressed in a light blue shirtwaist dress, a string of pearls around her lithe neck. Nothing fancy, nothing elegant and nothing like the night they’d picked her up. It was as though she was no longer playing the roll of neglected housewife on the prowl, and instead acting as older sister of a cop.

She ordered coffee and nothing else then actually reached across to take Ed’s hand in hers. “I’ve done it.”

“What?” His brain was on fire! Had he convinced her to get that divorce? To leave her husband and even Los Angeles? All he wanted was a good, safe, happy life for her; one with a new, loving husband who understood her values. A new life Ed could feel proud to know he’d helped her forge. “What did you do, Dot?” He grinned and squeezed her fingers.

She straightened and pushed back a wave of thick, shiny brown hair. “I got a job, Ed. A wonderful job. I will be the personal secretary to the president of the North Hollywood Bank. Isn’t that marvelous?”

Ed’s smile dropped. “Oh, yeah, I suppose it is.”

“I’ve disappointed you?” her eyes saddened.

“No, no. I was just …”

“I know what you were hoping, Ed. But I need you to think logically. First of all, I need to be able to support myself before I can leave him. Now, I lied in my interview and told them I was separated … but technically I am … my husband is never home. And I gave them your name as a reference. Is that okay?”

“Sure, sure. As long as I know the story, I’ll back it up.” His eyes roamed the diner and he heard Dorothy sigh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d be asking you to be untruthful. But I have few choices, Ed. I will be penniless and homeless if I simply try to divorce him without having some employment … and,” her eyes twinkled and she grinned, “since I no longer have another form of income …”

Ed rubbed his eyes. “I’m just trying to help you, Dot. I don’t like it that the bastard can just show up any time he wants. I don’t like it that he can push you to do what you did. I hate it. I want you out of there.”

“And where will I go, Ed?”

He blinked, she’d gone from big sister to mother in a few curt words. “Stay with me.”

“For how long? Until I find another husband? Ed, sweet Ed, you have already done so much for me. All I need you to do now is be a friend. Maybe lie a little about how you know me and what you think of me to help me secure this new job … and don’t worry so much. I’ll be fine. Just fine.”

Ed nodded, leaned over the table to kiss her cheek. Yeah, she’ll be just fine. Famous last words.

w

Captain Smith, Richard Stensland and Wendell White were off for a bust that was sure to make front page news. The robbery ring had baffled the entire department and this was certainly a good turn of events for the two detectives … too bad they’d get none of the glory or congratulations for it … Dudley was already positioning himself as the leader and brains behind the operation. But with everything White and Stens were learning, they’d have their fair share of solved cases Smith will have nothing to do with.

Calloway felt no guilt or remorse as he left the Victory. Doc Skelly had given him a nice wide range of freedom and he felt sure the next week’s interview would make up for the night’s crime focus. Besides, Smith had gotten his jollies and he didn’t expect another sneak involvement from the Captain anytime soon.

Driving around the block three, four, five times, Calloway finally decided it was time to face the music. Time to come eye to eye with something he was trying to ignore, pretending would simply go away. It hadn’t and was most likely never going to just go away.

As much as he hated the whole thing, Francine Foster was going to marry Benton Kirk, her current co-star in what was touted to be the biggest blockbuster film of the decade. Franny had messed everything up in Carson’s head. She turned out to be more than he expected … in and outside of the bedroom. He liked her, hell … he loved her. She was supposed to be a passing fancy, a plaything to tell his grandkids about someday. Nothing important but … there it was. Oh, he wasn’t about to tell her not to marry Kirk just because he thought she shouldn’t, just because he knew the man to be a swish and just because he knew he’d never make her happy. He had a different approach.

Hollywood usually gets what it wants, and the studio wanted Francine Foster’s soul. The studio knew they were demanding she marry a man who couldn’t and wouldn’t give her children … good for them, she could keep working. The marriage would clear Benton Kirk’s name; after all, a homosexual man would never marry a woman, right? Ah, thank heaven for the gullibility of the American public. Also, the nuptials were sure to make any future films involving both Foster and Kirk instant successes … and the money would continue to roll in.

The door swung opened and Franny leaned, her eyes tilted in a lazy perusal of her secret lover.

“Don’t do it,” Carson said. “Don’t ruin your whole life, Franny.”

“What will it matter?” she sighed and turned, walked with a loose, easy stride from the opened door, leaving Calloway to enter and close it behind him.

“It’ll matter … a lot. He’ll leave you empty and feeling like a fucking fool when it’s all said and done, baby.”

She poured a heavy crystal tumbler to overfull with expensive bourbon and sipped. It obviously wasn’t her first drink of the evening. Carson calmly took it from her trembling hand and set it aside. He led her to the sofa and looked down at her.

“What will it matter?” she said. “I mean, what difference does it make, anyway?”

Here goes, Calloway swallowed hard. “Marry me instead.”

Franny snorted a laugh that became a silly giggle. “I’m going to marry a common cop? Nonsense, Carson. We’ll just go on like we have been, handsome. You and me and our own little sexy secret.” Her grin was soft, eyes hooded as she reached out and cupped her palm over the bulge at his crotch.

He gripped her wrist and pushed it away. “You’re not getting this, are you Franny? You marry that fag and I’m history. There will be no fucking secret, no clandestine little get-togethers. Nothing.”

“You’re a liar. You can’t just stop seeing me,” the bold, brash movie star returned to Franny and she stood, glaring into his face. “You will never leave me.”

“I’m leaving you now,” and Carson turned on his heel. He didn’t expect the heavy crystal tumbler to fly so true or straight … or hurt so much.

No stitches were needed at the back of his head, but Carson felt the need for some kind of medical assistance as Franny cried and crawled over him, stripped his clothes and straddled him. Sucked his solid cock into her ready sex and begged him to never, ever leave her.

“Then,” Calloway sighed when it was finished, after taking her to the big luxurious bed and only when she was calm enough to hear him out. “You have to marry me. It’s the only way we’re gonna save each other, baby. The only way.”

Francine Foster did not answer.

w

Lorna rationalized away her relationship with Officer Bud White by reminding herself that she simply had no place in her life for fairytales.

Who was she kidding? As much as she allowed herself for a short time to believe that there was a safe haven with the burly officer, in the end it was their differences that drove her away. Word was out that her pimp, Leroy was looking for her and the inevitable reunion would hardly be a touching one. While Bud had tried to keep her safe by telling her to not answer the door or telephone, it was hardly a practical solution. She could only clean the tiny apartment so many times in a day, and as the hours ticked away between the moment Bud left to start his shift and his return home for the evening, she was surrounded by the sounds of the outside world going by without her. She had become the proverbial bird in a cage; not gilded by any means, but safe, warm and dry.

The problem was that she longed for the familiarity of her life in the barrio. It had hardly been pretty, but Leroy wasn’t always after her and as long as she did well with her tricks, he wasn’t too terribly abusive. She could deal with the cuts and bruises or the occasional cracked rib whenever he felt that she wasn’t pulling her full share of the load. But he had a new set of girls now who were keeping him occupied much of the time, younger and more willing to play the game of becoming the reigning number one under Leroy’s charge.

Perhaps she had been starting fights with Bud as a means of trying his patience to the point where he’d toss her out. She knew he would never consider marrying her, and even if he did, what kind of impression would that make on his coworkers and superiors? Whores were fine to keep around as a diversion, and she had never come across any cop who was immune to the disposable convenience of a guaranteed fuck or suck in exchange for not being hauled in on a vice bust. While Bud was more chivalrous than most cops she had come across, he was still a member of the blue brotherhood.

There really wasn’t much difference between what she did as opposed to the wife of a respectable man. Perhaps the location was cleaner and the sex was less rough, but at least she had the option of walking away afterwards. No shirts to mend, no shoes to shine, no dirty dishes other than her own. Nada. While the temporary reprieve from her life on the streets had been pleasant for a while, Lorna was practical about who and what she was and where she belonged.

As a last act of appreciation for what Bud had tried to do for her, she made sure that his apartment was clean and all the buttons on his shirts were mended. As she closed the door behind her for the last time she felt a little sad, but shook it off. She needed to be alert and figure out how to deal with Leroy. That thought alone chilled her, but she’d make it up. Cold hard cash had a way of putting him in a good mood, and she had $80 of Bud’s money that she could use as a bit of leverage. If she could only avoid Leroy for a couple of days she’d have enough to make up for her time away.

Her immediate problem was that she didn’t have a way back to her side of town other than walking. A taxi would require too much cash and the busses didn’t run where she needed to go. So she began to walk. The day was clear and the sun felt good on her back. She would normally still be asleep at this time, and it felt strange, as if she were doing something wrong or out of place.

By the time she had walked five blocks she began to feel uncomfortably hot and thirsty. She had just entered the main drag of the business section of town and the approaching bus stop called to her, if only to sit for a moment and rest. Maybe taking the bus wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all; she’d still have to walk quite a way afterwards to get where she needed to go, but she’d worry about that later. She had no idea as to how often this particular bus ran, but while she was sitting there waiting, a brown sedan pulled up and the passenger side window was down. An older gentleman was driving, not very attractive, but the way he looked at her as he leaned over to open the passenger side door was an expression she recognized.

Without a word, she nodded her head and got into the car.

w

It was late, late night, in fact already almost morning before Bud White reached his apartment. He was pleased to have been a part of breaking the theft ring that represented millions to the movie industry. Williams was behind robberies of everything from fabrics used to make costumes, to equipment for lighting, to actual undeveloped film and he’d been doing it for years. He stole it all then managed to sell it back at a great profit to the very men who’d originally ordered the materials from overseas. It felt good to break that cycle, but it might have been nice to be appreciated for all the footwork he and Stens had put in on the case. Didn’t matter much though, there was another case on their desk and no doubt another one under that one.

He was exhausted but still aware enough to move quietly around his apartment. He poured and gulped two fingers of scotch and rolled his neck. He carefully pushed opened his bedroom door and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Minutes passed and Bud saw the same thing … nothing. The bed was neatly made; the moonlight drifting in the window skimmed the flawless mattress. No wrinkle, no imperfections and … no Lorna.

Bud sighed, stripped and crawled into his bed.

w

Monday morning in the squad room was a breeze after the beating his ego took over the past weekend; Linda had started packing; their momentary truce apparently over, starting in right away with the haranguing of her acid tongue. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to just get up and leave and spent Saturday and Sunday mornings feigning sleep on the couch as Linda moved about the apartment, making what seemed to Jack to be as much noise as possible.

He unconsciously gripped his file of hard won leads closer as he passed Exley’s vacant desk. There was a tired looking hooker giving statement at another detective’s desk and Jack could smell the choking stench of alcohol coming off her as she spoke. An amused smile at the rookie officer’s expression as he tried to type up the report had not gone unnoticed by the hooker, and she responded with a curl of her lip, exposing a crooked row of tobacco stained teeth.

“How charming.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” was the hooker’s blue chip response.

Jack shook his head, suddenly noting the similarity to his soon to be ex, only Linda looked a damn sight more appealing than this pathetic creature. But what was waiting for him over by his desk proved far more interesting.

The kid had done her best to present her version of a Hollywood actress’ disguise, complete with wide brimmed hat and scarf topped off with a pair of dark cat-eye glasses. He guessed she had been trying to emulate Lauren Bacall in The Big Sleep, but ended up looking more like a young Hedy Lamar about to go on her first bender.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart.” The kid was trying to look calm and sophisticated, but he noticed that her fingernails had been bitten to the quick. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss LaRue?”

Her lips pressed into a thin embarrassed line, Jennifer Wolfowitz looked up at Jack, her eyes peering over the top of her sunglasses. Glancing quickly both right and left, she licked her lips and took a deep breath. “Can we talk someplace a little more … private?”

Jack tried not to smile; she had some information for him. But as to whether it would be something useful, he’d have to wait and see. “I hope you’re not wasting my time.”

Jennifer shook her head and Jack took a quick glance around. So far her presence hadn’t drawn any attention, and with a quick nod he motioned for her to follow him.

He choose the cleanest of three interrogation rooms; the one that smelled the least of sweat and piss. Standing at the doorway, motioned for Jennifer to enter first.

“Charming accommodations.” She looked at the two chairs before the old metal table and chose the less dirty of the two. Jack sat down across from her.

“Sorry, but the Beverly Wilshire was all booked for the day. Let’s cut the small talk, Jennifer. Why are you here?”

The girl removed her sunglasses and reached into her handbag. “I was thinking about what you told me the other day, you know, about my father.”  She paused for a moment, but when Jack didn’t respond, she cleared her throat and continued. “I did some checking, and I think I have some information for you.”

She pulled out a small think black ledger and sat in down on the table between them. “It’s my father’s private appointment book; the last entry was three days ago, and it includes names and phone numbers. There’s even a mention of that guy … Lenny something or other …”

Jack’s intuition was buzzing. He reached for the book, almost expecting the kid to snatch it away, but she only watched him expectantly. Flipping through the pages, he realized that he may have just been given the golden egg that would help crack his case wide as the Grand Canyon.

“What do you want in return?”

Jennifer reached for her sunglasses and put them back on. “I don’t want anything, and it’s got nothing to do with you. There’s no love lost between my father and I and I’d like nothing better than to see him behind bars for the rest of his life. Do you think there’s enough there to help your case against him? I may be able to get more …”

The fact that she had been ballsy enough to bring him this much only reaffirmed that the kid was addicted to taking too many chances. The adrenalin rush from playing high-priced hooker could take second place to the rush of seeing daddy locked away forever, and Jack could only see disaster looming ahead if he gave her such a choice.

“No, that won’t be necessary. This is more than sufficient.” Understatement of the decade. Lenny Obermann’s name was peppered throughout for the months of January, July and August, picking up again in November and December. A few extra bookings to help spread the holiday cheer perhaps? Wait, there were other names as well … Pierce Patchett, Ellis Lowe; this could prove very interesting.

He slipped the book into the inside breast pocket of his blazer and fixed his gaze on Jennifer. “Now I want you to walk away from this.”

Jennifer bit her lip and nodded.

“Do you have a ride back to school, or wherever it is you need to go?” He didn’t like the idea of her sticking her neck out, and he hoped that she’d listen to his advice.

“I have my car.”

They both stood and Jack went to the door and held it open for her. “Stay out of trouble, Jennifer. You’ve finished playing your part.”

She edged past him, the scent of her perfume heavy in his nostrils. “It ain’t over ‘till it’s over, Detective Vincennes. But I get your meaning.”