Chapter 2

Across town in a remote corner of Griffith Park, Steely and Frank pull their patrol car up to the unlit public toilets. They climb out, nightsticks in hand, and proceed into the toilets.  Steely carries his bullhorn as well.

Steely and Frank stand in the washroom gazing over the tiled floors where a dozen or so snoring rag women all but cover every inch.  Newspapers are draped around the bottom of the stalls where others are sleeping in somewhat privacy.

In the corner, an old woman with her pushcart sits on a beat-up milk carton beneath a hot air hand dryer.  The officers stand and watch as she comes out of a half sleep, fumbles for the ON button and activates another fifteen-second blast of warm air.  She nods off just before it stops, causing her to fumble again for the ON button. 

They watch the process repeat itself a few more times, then Frank leans over to him.  “C''mon.  Let''s get it over with.” 

Steely heaves the sigh of man just doing his duty and motions Frank to relax and watch, pressing his fingers to his lips.

***

Doc''s hand carefully pours some hot water into Anna''s tea cup as she continues her story.  On the table is a large pile of $5.00 and $10.00 bills that has Pepe transfixed.

“Hey…I should know better than you, shouldn’t I?” pleads Anna.  Look, she doesn''t sound well and I''m…I''ve never seen any of my own blood and…living with this guy wasn''t happening anyway.  So, I took his money to find her.”  She ducks her head.  “He''ll kill me if he finds me.”

Doc, looking a bit bewildered, asks “Didn’t you try and talk with him about the tape and needing the money?”

Anna takes a sip, as Doc pours for Pepe.  “No,” she says reflectively.  After the first year, we... we really don''t talk anymore.  I made a mistake with the guy, and…he was always too high to talk about it.”  She sheepishly glances down at the money, then picks it up.  “Look… I''ve only got a few hundred here and it''s got to last till I find her.  Would you accept what I''ve got and help?  Pepe says if anyone can find a transient on the street, you can.”

 “We’re called Rags now, thanks to the Glen Becks of the world, but…thanks for the compliment.”  He blushes a bit.  “Never was approached to be a private eye before.  Humph.  How about that Pepe?  Doc, the Private Eye.”  He gives her a paternal pat on the head.  Don''t worry about the money.”  He gets up and gestures to the door.  “Now let''s hear what more this little lady has to say.”

He grabs a flashlight and guides them out the door.

***

Steely lifts his bullhorn, turns the switch to “warning” and blasts the calm with an ear-shattering siren.

 Everybody flies out of their sleeping position, some dazed, others hysterical from the fright, all bumping into each other like an ant hill, just besieged by a foot stomp screech.  “C''mon, you creepos,” bellows Steely.  “Haul ass!”

More blasts of the siren.

Frank runs his stick along the radiators, making more terrifying sounds.

As the women drag their carts, pushing, shoving, crawling to get out.  Steely, his eyes cold and merciless, whacks them on their legs and backs.

Frank remains somewhat hesitant, as Steely motions for him to wail on them.   He half-heartedly whacks their carts, rather than their backs.

“C''mon for Christ sake, Frank.  Hit ''em.  That''s all they understand.”

Frank stops short, a look of self-deprecation filling his face.  “Guess I''m just a greenhorn.”

Steely thrusts his stick between one woman''s legs, tripping her.  “You sure as hell are.”

The woman picks herself up and exits, leaving the toilets empty except for the old woman under the dryer.  She is slumped against the wall as if still sleeping.  “C''mon you old scum bag.  Move it!” shouts Steely.

She doesn''t move.

Steely steps up and nudges her hard with his stick, toppling her over.

Frank steps back as the body falls to the floor, revealing her blue face.  “Jesus, Sergeant.  She bought the farm.  Fuck!”

Steely looks down at her.  “One less to worry about.”

Frank leans toward the woman as Steely motions him toward the door.  “Leave her.  Maintenance''ll find her.”  Steely steps over her and takes a last look at the room.  “Check her bags.”

“Ah, c’mon, sarge.  Enough is…”  He catches himself, conscious of not wanting to rile Steely up any more. He presses his shoe into the bags.  “Nothing but old clothes.  Let’s get out of here.”

 Just as Frank passes him, Steely, still staring back into the darkness of the toilets, thrusts his stick out, blocking his exit.  “You get any gum with those burgers?”

Frank does a double take and heaves a quiet sigh.  “Yah… the food you ordered me to…  Sure.  You asked me to, didn’t you?”

Steely lets his steel baton dangle by the wrist strap, extending his cupped hand.  “Well?”

Frank reaches in his pocket and hands him a pack of Bazooka bubble gum.  Steely looks at it, grinning.  “Stuff''s bad for your health, Frank.  Rots your teeth.” He unwraps a piece and sticks it in his mouth as he quickly reads the cartoon wrapper.

Frank stands impatiently.  “That’s probably why they only sell it in that souvenir store anymore, sergeant.  Can we go now?”

Steely lets out an eerie, child-like laugh and points with his stick.  “After you check her bags.”

“Ah for God’s sake.”  Frank jerks back into the corner and starts rifling through her meager possessions. 

  Steely finishes reading the cartoon.  “Good one, Frank.  Never read this one before.”  He looks around the room and folds up the wrapper in his usual accordion style manner, chucks it aside and starts up the stairs as Frank continues to halfheartedly checks her bags.  He finds only some old clothes and a little porcelain music box with the inscription, "Happy Mother''s Day, Mom - 1992."  He opens it and hears a Strauss waltz.  He hesitates then respectfully closes it as he hears Steely from the darkness at the top of the stairs.

“Bring it, soldier.”

Frank reflects a moment, takes it and walks to him with the music box.  As he hands it off, he asks calmly, “Wish you wouldn''t call me that, sergeant.

“Fits.  That’s what we are.  C’mon.”