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Authors: William Campbell Gault
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The knuckle throbbed like a toothache. Blood was dripping off my chin from my torn lip as I waited to get through to McGill.
His gruff voice came on. “Captain McGill speaking.”
“Joe Puma, Captain. Sergeant Rodriguez is here. He threatened me. He hit me. I hit him back. He accused me of running some Mexican whore out of town, some girl he sails for I guess.”
“Put Sergeant Rodriguez on. I want his story.”
“He’s still out, Captain.”
“Well, damn it, do something about it. You phoned me before you took care of an unconscious man?”
“I figured I might not be alive to phone you after he was conscious again, Captain.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Puma. We don’t operate that way. Bring him around and have him phone me.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
I hung up as Rodriguez started to moan. Then he sat up and put his head forward into his hands, rotating his neck, breathing harshly. I had my hand on the .38 in my pocket. I still stood near the phone.
He swore softly in Spanish. He looked up at me. “This I won’t forget, you son-of-a-bitch.”
Nothing from me.
He put the flat of one hand on the floor and started to get up, but some of the rattles must have come to his brain with the movement. He sat back again, breathing heavily, blinking at me.
“Your head hit the door jamb,” I explained. “Captain McGill wants you to phone him as soon as you’re able to.”
He was rubbing the back of his neck, digging at it. He took a deep intake of breath and held it and put a hand down to lift himself up.
This time he made it and stood there, his back supported by the door. He expelled the breath he’d been holding.
“The captain’s waiting for your call, I said quietly.
“I’ll call him. I wouldn’t use your damned phone. We’ll meet again, you and I, Joe. I was the only friend you had down at headquarters and you’re going to regret this.”
I said nothing. I could see there was still some rubber in his legs and he was stalling for a dignified exit. Then, finally, his hand fumbled for the door knob.
When the door closed behind him, I took my hand from the .38 and it was wet with sweat. There was a little rubber in my own legs, but I didn’t sit down. I went over to where I could watch him through the blinds. My stomach rumbled and nausea crowded almost to my chest. Even in the event McGill would back me up, Manny would spread the word among his Department buddies and they’d remember it if the opportunity ever came.
But even that was less important than having trouble with the law at this time. Now, when I seemed to be on fair terms with McGill, and with the big pitch coming up, I should have been walking on eggs.
Minutes dragged by and Manny still sat in the car. My hand throbbed and my lip was puffing and two teeth were loose, but I stood there, waiting for him to drive away.
Blue showed in the bulged, taut flesh between my first and second knuckles. The ache was spreading through my whole forearm. Sweat ran down my legs, the back of my neck, my sides.
The ringing of the phone startled me as the Department car in front pulled away.
It was McGill. “Is Rodriguez still out?”
“No, Captain, he’s left. He refused to use my phone.”
“Oh.” A pause. “I suppose you’ll be phoning the Daily News about this example of police brutality?”
“I’m a Times reader myself, Captain. And I never try to make trouble.”
“Speak plainer, Puma.”
“I’ve no complaint,” I said. “I’m sorry I hit him back.”
“What are you mumbling about?”
“I’m trying to talk plain. But he caught me in the mouth. I’ve some loose teeth and a lip like a watermelon, Captain.”
“I see. About that girl, that Gonzales it was, eh?”
“Right.”
“Well, he’ll be disciplined. Don’t worry about that.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Don’t you worry about a damned thing,” he said and hung up.
The News had been screaming about police brutality for a month now, and the
His gruff voice came on. “Captain McGill speaking.”
“Joe Puma, Captain. Sergeant Rodriguez is here. He threatened me. He hit me. I hit him back. He accused me of running some Mexican whore out of town, some girl he sails for I guess.”
“Put Sergeant Rodriguez on. I want his story.”
“He’s still out, Captain.”
“Well, damn it, do something about it. You phoned me before you took care of an unconscious man?”
“I figured I might not be alive to phone you after he was conscious again, Captain.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Puma. We don’t operate that way. Bring him around and have him phone me.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
I hung up as Rodriguez started to moan. Then he sat up and put his head forward into his hands, rotating his neck, breathing harshly. I had my hand on the .38 in my pocket. I still stood near the phone.
He swore softly in Spanish. He looked up at me. “This I won’t forget, you son-of-a-bitch.”
Nothing from me.
He put the flat of one hand on the floor and started to get up, but some of the rattles must have come to his brain with the movement. He sat back again, breathing heavily, blinking at me.
“Your head hit the door jamb,” I explained. “Captain McGill wants you to phone him as soon as you’re able to.”
He was rubbing the back of his neck, digging at it. He took a deep intake of breath and held it and put a hand down to lift himself up.
This time he made it and stood there, his back supported by the door. He expelled the breath he’d been holding.
“The captain’s waiting for your call, I said quietly.
“I’ll call him. I wouldn’t use your damned phone. We’ll meet again, you and I, Joe. I was the only friend you had down at headquarters and you’re going to regret this.”
I said nothing. I could see there was still some rubber in his legs and he was stalling for a dignified exit. Then, finally, his hand fumbled for the door knob.
When the door closed behind him, I took my hand from the .38 and it was wet with sweat. There was a little rubber in my own legs, but I didn’t sit down. I went over to where I could watch him through the blinds. My stomach rumbled and nausea crowded almost to my chest. Even in the event McGill would back me up, Manny would spread the word among his Department buddies and they’d remember it if the opportunity ever came.
But even that was less important than having trouble with the law at this time. Now, when I seemed to be on fair terms with McGill, and with the big pitch coming up, I should have been walking on eggs.
Minutes dragged by and Manny still sat in the car. My hand throbbed and my lip was puffing and two teeth were loose, but I stood there, waiting for him to drive away.
Blue showed in the bulged, taut flesh between my first and second knuckles. The ache was spreading through my whole forearm. Sweat ran down my legs, the back of my neck, my sides.
The ringing of the phone startled me as the Department car in front pulled away.
It was McGill. “Is Rodriguez still out?”
“No, Captain, he’s left. He refused to use my phone.”
“Oh.” A pause. “I suppose you’ll be phoning the Daily News about this example of police brutality?”
“I’m a Times reader myself, Captain. And I never try to make trouble.”
“Speak plainer, Puma.”
“I’ve no complaint,” I said. “I’m sorry I hit him back.”
“What are you mumbling about?”
“I’m trying to talk plain. But he caught me in the mouth. I’ve some loose teeth and a lip like a watermelon, Captain.”
“I see. About that girl, that Gonzales it was, eh?”
“Right.”
“Well, he’ll be disciplined. Don’t worry about that.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Don’t you worry about a damned thing,” he said and hung up.
The News had been screaming about police brutality for a month now, and the
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