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Authors: Joseph Wambaugh
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There were also two hookers working the early shift who were pretending to be interested in going for a s wim but were flying around the conventioneers like turkey vultures.
While they were following the bellman up one of two swooping stairways, Otto said, "I used to hear that Palm Springs is where rich Jews go to die."
"Yeah, if they can't stand Cubans and Haitians." "I could die here," Otto said.
"Doesn't matter where you die," Sidney Blackpool said. "It's when that matters. And sometimes that doesn't matter."
"Try not to be morbid, Sidney," Otto said. "Hey, I think I just saw Farrah Fawcett in the lobby!"
Their suite, which was composed of two bedrooms and two baths, thrilled Otto who tipped the bellman a five in a fit of extravagance. There was an ice bucket waiting, a bottle of pretty good California wine, and a fruit basket, compliments of the manager.
Sidney Blackpool was testing his king-size bed when Otto came running in through the connecting door, his rosy cheeks gone white.
"What's the matter, too much luxury for your little heart to bear?" Sidney Blackpool asked.
"Sidney!" Otto cried. "Whaddaya think Watson's giving us for expenses? I mean for a week's expenses?" "Five hundred?" Sidney Blackpool shrugged. "I mean , food and drink here at the hotel're comp'd so . . ."
Otto turned the manila envelope upside down an d t hey fell out on the bed. Twenty of them: five-hundred-
dollar bills.
"I didn't even know whose picture was on one!" Otto whispered. "Hello President McKinley!"
"He said we might have to pay for some information, but . . ."
"We can't keep it, Sidney."
"Why can't we?"
"Ten thou? I don't have my goddamn pension secured yet! Four years to go, baby."
"We're not being bribed, for c(rissake."
"Okay, we gotta make a ledger and keep track a ever y d ollar. If we get any leads and pay snitches we gotta keep track.-
"Are you crazy? We came here to play golf. The investigation's bullshit!"
"I know, I know! We gotta give him back at least nine grand. Damn, I got Hershey squirts in my shorts!"
I, m impressed by the money, Otto. I mean really impressed. I never had ten grand at one time but . . ."
:Okay, okay, but you got a lock on your pension. I don t. Let's give him back eight grand. Two we can justify for a week's expenses. Buying drinks for cops, and buying snitch information, and like that."
"Let's just think about it," Sidney Blackpool said. "What's ten K to a guy like Watson? In his office he had more than that invested in a freaking desk that looked like a piece a rotten liver."
"Okay, okay, we give back six grand," Otto said. can live with that."
"Let's run down to the bar and get a drink," Sidney Blackpool said. "I need a Johnnie Walker."
"Run down to the bar?" Otto cried incredulously. "Call room service! We don't have to run anywheres. Shit, I don't see how we could spend ten grand if we tried. Maybe five. I wonder how much a massage costs in a place like this. I wonder how much you should tip for a massage? I wonder if we could spend that even if we was to try . Maybe seven. Maybe we could justify keeping seven. If we tried . Wait a minute! Didn't somebody shoot poor old fucking McKinley?"
Chapter 5
THE BELIEVER HE'D BEEN CALLED WINGNUT SINCE GRAMMAR SCHOOL.
The reason was obvious: his ears. Willard Bates looke d l ike a wingnut all right, or like a VW bug with the door s o pen. For thirteen months he was a cop in Orange Count y a nd had nothing but grief, and thought about giving u p p olice work altogether.
Big problems for Wingnut Bates started there in Orange County two weeks after he finished police training. One afternoon he was driving his patrol car by Disneyland with his training officer riding shotgun. His partner, Ned Grogan, happened to be eyeballing a little cupcake in the crosswalk who was dressed in shorts and a "Kiss" T-shirt for her day in the magic kingdom when suddenly she almost got kissed by a Lincoln with New York plates. It failed to brake for
While they were following the bellman up one of two swooping stairways, Otto said, "I used to hear that Palm Springs is where rich Jews go to die."
"Yeah, if they can't stand Cubans and Haitians." "I could die here," Otto said.
"Doesn't matter where you die," Sidney Blackpool said. "It's when that matters. And sometimes that doesn't matter."
"Try not to be morbid, Sidney," Otto said. "Hey, I think I just saw Farrah Fawcett in the lobby!"
Their suite, which was composed of two bedrooms and two baths, thrilled Otto who tipped the bellman a five in a fit of extravagance. There was an ice bucket waiting, a bottle of pretty good California wine, and a fruit basket, compliments of the manager.
Sidney Blackpool was testing his king-size bed when Otto came running in through the connecting door, his rosy cheeks gone white.
"What's the matter, too much luxury for your little heart to bear?" Sidney Blackpool asked.
"Sidney!" Otto cried. "Whaddaya think Watson's giving us for expenses? I mean for a week's expenses?" "Five hundred?" Sidney Blackpool shrugged. "I mean , food and drink here at the hotel're comp'd so . . ."
Otto turned the manila envelope upside down an d t hey fell out on the bed. Twenty of them: five-hundred-
dollar bills.
"I didn't even know whose picture was on one!" Otto whispered. "Hello President McKinley!"
"He said we might have to pay for some information, but . . ."
"We can't keep it, Sidney."
"Why can't we?"
"Ten thou? I don't have my goddamn pension secured yet! Four years to go, baby."
"We're not being bribed, for c(rissake."
"Okay, we gotta make a ledger and keep track a ever y d ollar. If we get any leads and pay snitches we gotta keep track.-
"Are you crazy? We came here to play golf. The investigation's bullshit!"
"I know, I know! We gotta give him back at least nine grand. Damn, I got Hershey squirts in my shorts!"
I, m impressed by the money, Otto. I mean really impressed. I never had ten grand at one time but . . ."
:Okay, okay, but you got a lock on your pension. I don t. Let's give him back eight grand. Two we can justify for a week's expenses. Buying drinks for cops, and buying snitch information, and like that."
"Let's just think about it," Sidney Blackpool said. "What's ten K to a guy like Watson? In his office he had more than that invested in a freaking desk that looked like a piece a rotten liver."
"Okay, okay, we give back six grand," Otto said. can live with that."
"Let's run down to the bar and get a drink," Sidney Blackpool said. "I need a Johnnie Walker."
"Run down to the bar?" Otto cried incredulously. "Call room service! We don't have to run anywheres. Shit, I don't see how we could spend ten grand if we tried. Maybe five. I wonder how much a massage costs in a place like this. I wonder how much you should tip for a massage? I wonder if we could spend that even if we was to try . Maybe seven. Maybe we could justify keeping seven. If we tried . Wait a minute! Didn't somebody shoot poor old fucking McKinley?"
Chapter 5
THE BELIEVER HE'D BEEN CALLED WINGNUT SINCE GRAMMAR SCHOOL.
The reason was obvious: his ears. Willard Bates looke d l ike a wingnut all right, or like a VW bug with the door s o pen. For thirteen months he was a cop in Orange Count y a nd had nothing but grief, and thought about giving u p p olice work altogether.
Big problems for Wingnut Bates started there in Orange County two weeks after he finished police training. One afternoon he was driving his patrol car by Disneyland with his training officer riding shotgun. His partner, Ned Grogan, happened to be eyeballing a little cupcake in the crosswalk who was dressed in shorts and a "Kiss" T-shirt for her day in the magic kingdom when suddenly she almost got kissed by a Lincoln with New York plates. It failed to brake for
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