"A skinny wh.o.r.e in a brown dress recognized me from working uniform in this area," Roy lied. "I saw her look at me and run and tell all the wh.o.r.es on the block. It's no use, I'm burned here."

"Let's go over to the park and bust a quick fruit or two," said Ranatti. "We haven't made a fruit pinch for a few days."

After leaving his private car in the station parking lot Roy rejoined Gant in the vice car and they drove toward the park. Roy was disappointed that he had so far been unable to make a vice arrest, but he decided he'd operate successfully in The Cave later tonight and it now occurred to him that he had no idea how to arrest a h.o.m.os.e.xual.

"What're the elements of a fruit pinch?" asked Roy.

"That's easier than a wh.o.r.e bust," said Gant, driving casually through the early evening traffic. "If he makes a lewd offer in a public place, that's it. Or if he gropes you. But as far as I'm concerned you don't have to let a man grab your joint. If it looks like he's making a move to honk you, just grab his hand and he's busted. We'll say on the arrest report he touched your privates. I don't give a s.h.i.t what Jacovitch says about legal arrests and embellishing arrest reports, I don't let n.o.body touch my tool unless she's wearing a dress and I know for sure there's a female body under the dress."

"Seems like you could just settle for the verbal offer," said Roy.

"Yeah, you could. But some f.a.ggots are real aggressive. You say h.e.l.lo and bang, they got you by the dork. I don't expect you to submit to that c.r.a.p. Just operating fruits is bad enough. But maybe we won't have to operate them. Maybe we can catch them in the trap."

"I heard lots of talk about the trap. the trap. What is it?" asked Roy, feeling a bit uncomfortable about the prospect of working fruits. What is it?" asked Roy, feeling a bit uncomfortable about the prospect of working fruits.

"That's what we call a vantage point," said Gant, accelerating up the hill on Sixth Street past Central Receiving Hospital. "There's lots of places where fruits hang out, like public restrooms. Well, some of these places install vents covered with heavy mesh screen or something like that, where we can peek through into the restroom area. Most of the places take the doors off the s.h.i.thouses for us too. Then we sit in the trap, the trap, as we call it, and peek through into the restroom. Of course there's legal technicalities like probable cause and exploratory searches involved here, but I'll tell you about that when we make the arrest report-if we catch any. Sometimes we use the CC units and let one guy sit in the trap with a radio and if he sees some fruit action in the john, he whispers to us over the radio and in we come. Let me warn you about fruits. I don't know what you're expecting, but I can tell you that a fruit can look like anything. He can be a big manly guy with a wife and kids and a good job, he can be a professional man, or a priest, or even a cop. We've caught people from every walk of life in these traps. All kinds of people got kinks, and in my opinion, any guy with this particular kind of kink that has to indulge it occasionally will sooner or later look for a public restroom or some other sleazy fruit hangout. It's part of the cruddy thrill I guess. I talked to a million fruits in my time and lots of them cop out to needing a little action in a place like this once in a while even when they can have their kicks in private with a discreet boy friend. I don't know why, I just know they do it. So the thing is, you might run into a pretty square kind of fruit in here. Like I said, a respectable married guy or something, and when he finds out you're the law, that son of a b.i.t.c.h might come uncorked. Suddenly he pictures a big scandal where Mama and the kiddies and all his friends read on the front page of the as we call it, and peek through into the restroom. Of course there's legal technicalities like probable cause and exploratory searches involved here, but I'll tell you about that when we make the arrest report-if we catch any. Sometimes we use the CC units and let one guy sit in the trap with a radio and if he sees some fruit action in the john, he whispers to us over the radio and in we come. Let me warn you about fruits. I don't know what you're expecting, but I can tell you that a fruit can look like anything. He can be a big manly guy with a wife and kids and a good job, he can be a professional man, or a priest, or even a cop. We've caught people from every walk of life in these traps. All kinds of people got kinks, and in my opinion, any guy with this particular kind of kink that has to indulge it occasionally will sooner or later look for a public restroom or some other sleazy fruit hangout. It's part of the cruddy thrill I guess. I talked to a million fruits in my time and lots of them cop out to needing a little action in a place like this once in a while even when they can have their kicks in private with a discreet boy friend. I don't know why, I just know they do it. So the thing is, you might run into a pretty square kind of fruit in here. Like I said, a respectable married guy or something, and when he finds out you're the law, that son of a b.i.t.c.h might come uncorked. Suddenly he pictures a big scandal where Mama and the kiddies and all his friends read on the front page of the Times Times that old Herbie is really a c.o.c.ksucker. That's what's going on in his sweaty brain. And you be careful, because if you was taking him for murder he wouldn't be near as panicky or dangerous. This p.r.i.c.k might literally try to kill you to get away. I say don't get yourself hurt for a lousy misdemeanor pinch that ain't worth a G.o.dd.a.m.n in court anyway. You know what the average fruit gets? About a fifty-dollar fine and that's it. He'd have to have a bunch of priors to draw any jail time. But these fruits don't know all this and if they don't know it they don't think of it when you're arresting them. All they're thinking about is getting away from you. And they're f.u.c.ked up in the head anyway or they wouldn't be there in the first place, so you just be careful working fruits." that old Herbie is really a c.o.c.ksucker. That's what's going on in his sweaty brain. And you be careful, because if you was taking him for murder he wouldn't be near as panicky or dangerous. This p.r.i.c.k might literally try to kill you to get away. I say don't get yourself hurt for a lousy misdemeanor pinch that ain't worth a G.o.dd.a.m.n in court anyway. You know what the average fruit gets? About a fifty-dollar fine and that's it. He'd have to have a bunch of priors to draw any jail time. But these fruits don't know all this and if they don't know it they don't think of it when you're arresting them. All they're thinking about is getting away from you. And they're f.u.c.ked up in the head anyway or they wouldn't be there in the first place, so you just be careful working fruits."

"I will," said Roy, feeling his heart race again. He hadn't bargained for the dangers of vice work. When he first learned he was going to vice he vaguely pictured girls and drinking. He thought of how he had never actually been in a fight in the two years he had been a policeman. He had to a.s.sist a partner wrestle a man to the ground a few times where the handcuffs were applied without too much trouble. But he had never actually struck a man, nor had anyone ever struck him. And a vice officer carried no baton. "Do you carry a sap?" Roy asked.

"You bet," said Gant, lifting his shirt and showing Roy the huge black beaver-tail sap he carried inside his waistband.

"Maybe I ought to buy one," said Roy.

"I think you ought to have one," Gant nodded. "Vice officers get in some good ones and that onesies on twosies wristlock they teach you in the academy never seems to work when you're squirming around on some p.i.s.s-covered restroom floor with some b.l.o.o.d.y sweaty fruit, or maybe battling some hugger mugger's pimp in some dark hotel lobby when your partner doesn't know where the h.e.l.l you are."

"This job doesn't sound too good after all," Roy smiled weakly.

"I'm just telling the worst that can happen," said Gant. "They're the things that happen to young hot dogs like Ranatti and Simeone. But you stick with the old salts like me and nothing's going to happen. We won't make as many pinches as those guys but we'll go home in one piece every night."

Gant parked the vice car a half block from the park and walked to the hedgerow on the south side of the duck pond where they found Ranatti and Simeone sprawled on the gra.s.s smoking and throwing pieces of popcorn to a hissing black gander who accepted the tribute but scorned them for their charity.

"n.o.body appreciates something for nothing," said Ranatti, pointing his cigarette at the ferocious gander who tired of the popcorn and waddled to the water's edge.

"We going to operate, or work the trap?" asked Gant.

"Whatever you want," Simeone shrugged.

"What do you want to do, Roy?" asked Gant.

"h.e.l.l, I'm too new to know," said Roy. "If we operate that means we walk around and pose as fruits?"

"Just be available," said Simeone. "You don't have to swish around or play with your coins in your pants pocket or anything. Just hang around and talk to the fruits that hit on you. Usually one or two of us operate out around the trees and the other two wait somewhere. If you get an offer you bring the fruit to the waiting place. Tell him you got a car nearby or a pad, or tell him anything. Just get him to us, then we all take him. One man never takes a fruit alone."

"I already told him that," said Gant.

"Or, if you're squeamish about playing fruit, and I don't blame you if you are," said Ranatti, "'cause I never could stand to operate them-well, then we can go to the trap. Then you only watch them in a lewd act. You don't have to actually mingle with them like when you operate."

"Let's do that," said Roy.

"You two want inside or outside?" asked Simeone to Gant.

"Outside. What do you think?"

"What did you ask him for?" said Ranatti.

"He respects his elders," said Gant as they began strolling through the park. It was a warm summer evening, and a slight breeze cooled Roy's face as it came off the pond. Many of the ducks were asleep, and aside from the steady flow of nearby traffic it was quiet and restful here.

"It's a beautiful place," said Roy.

"The park?" said Ranatti. "Oh, yeah. But it's full of f.a.ggots and thieves and a.s.sholes in general. No decent people dare hang around here after dark."

"Except us vice officers," said Simeone.

"He said decent people," Gant reminded him.

"Once in a while some squares that're new in town might come around here after dark with the family, but they soon see what's happening. They used to lock up the johns at night, but some brainy park administrator decided to leave them open. The open restrooms draw fruits like flies."

"Fruit flies," said Simeone.

"We used to only have a hundred fruits a night around here. Now we got a thousand. Maybe we can get the restrooms closed again."

"That's it over there," said Gant to Roy, pointing at the large stucco outbuilding squatting near a clump of elms that rustled in the wind which had grown stronger.

"Roy, you and me'll wait behind those trees over there," said Gant. "When they come out of the trap we'll see them and run over and help them."

"One time," said Simeone, "there were only two of us here and we caught eight fruits in there. One was gobbling another's joint, and the other six were standing around fondling anything they could find."

"A real circle jerk," said Ranatti. "We snuck out of the trap and didn't know what the h.e.l.l to do with eight of them. Finally Sim spots a pile of roofing tiles at the corner of the tool shed and he sticks his head in and yells, 'All you fruits are under arrest.' Then he slams the door shut and backs off to the pile of tiles and starts heaving them at the door every time one of them tries to get out. He was really enjoying it, I think. I ran to the call box on the corner and put out a help call and when the black and whites got here we still had all eight fruits trapped in the c.r.a.pper. But the wall of the building looked like a machine gun squad had strafed it."

"See what I told you before about sticking with me and staying out of trouble," said Gant, walking toward the clump of trees where they would wait. "Why don't you go in with them for a while, Roy? You might as well see what it's all about."

Ranatti removed his key ring from his pocket and unlocked the padlock on a ma.s.sive tool shed which was attached to the side of the building. Roy entered the shed and was followed by Ranatti who held the door for him and closed it behind them. It was deep and black in the shed except for a patch of light six feet up on the wall near the roof of the shed. Ranatti took Roy's elbow and guided him through the darkness and pointed to a step and a three-foot platform leading up to the patch of light. Roy stepped up and looked through the heavy gauge sheets of wire mesh into the interior of the restroom. The room was about thirty by twenty feet, Roy thought. He envisioned the dimension might be a question by the defense if he ever had to go to court on an arrest he made here. There were four urinals and four stools behind them separated by metal walls. Roy noticed there were no doors on the front of the stalls and several peepholes were drilled in the metal walls which separated the toilets.

They waited silently for several minutes and then Roy heard feet shuffling on the concrete walk leading toward the front door. An old stooped tramp slouched in toting a bundle which he opened when he got inside. The tramp took four wine bottles from the dirty sack and drained the half mouthful of wine which remained in each of them. Then he put the bottles back into the bundle and Roy wondered what value they could have. The old man wobbled over to the last stool where he removed his filthy coat, lunged sideways against the wall, righted himself, and took the floppy hat from his tremendous s.h.a.ggy head. The tramp dropped his pants and sat down in one motion and a tremendous gaseous explosion echoed through the restroom.

"Oh Christ," Simeone whispered. "Just our luck."

The stench filled the room instantly.

"Jesus Christ," said Ranatti, "this place smells like a s.h.i.thouse."

"Were you expecting a flower shop?" asked Simeone.

"This is a degrading job," Roy muttered and went to the door for some fresh air.

"Well, the old thief's got enough a.s.swipe stashed to last a week," said Simeone in a loud voice.

Roy looked back into the restroom and saw the tramp still sitting on the toilet, slumped against the side wall snoring loudly. A huge wad of toilet paper protruded from the top of his ragged undershirt.

"Hey!" Simeone called. "Wake up you old ragpicker. Wake up!"

The tramp stirred, blinked twice and closed his eyes again.

"Hey, he's not sleeping real sound yet," said Ranatti "Hey! Old man! Wake up! Get your a.s.s up and out of here!"

This time the tramp stirred, grunted and opened his eyes with a snap of his head.

"Get the h.e.l.l out of here, you old crud!" said Simeone.

"Who said that?" asked the tramp, leaning forward on the toilet, trying to peek around the wall of the toilet stall.

"It's me. G.o.d!" said Ranatti. "Get the h.e.l.l out of here."

"Wise son of a b.i.t.c.h, huh?" said the tramp. "Jus' wait a minute."

As the tramp was struggling back into his pants, Roy heard footsteps and a pale, nervous-looking man with a receding hair-line and green-tinted gla.s.ses entered the rest-room.

"A fruit," Ranatti whispered in Roy's ear.

The man looked in each toilet stall and seeing only the uninteresting tramp in the last stall, walked to the urinal on the far side of the room.

The tramp did not buckle his belt but merely tied the leather around his waist. He slammed the floppy hat back on his head and picked up the bundle. Then he saw the man standing at the last urinal. The tramp put down the bundle.

"h.e.l.lo G.o.d," said the tramp.

"Beg your pardon?" said the man, still standing at the urinal.

"Ain't you G.o.d?" asked the tramp. "Didn't you tell me to get the h.e.l.l out of here? Well I might not look like much, but no son of a b.i.t.c.h tells me to get my a.s.s out of a public s.h.i.thouse, you son of a b.i.t.c.h." The tramp put down his bundle deliberately while the terrified man re-zipped his trousers. As the man skidded toward the door across the slippery floor of the restroom the tramp threw a wine bottle that crashed on the doorjamb and showered the man with gla.s.s fragments. The tramp hobbled to the door and looked after his fleeing enemy, then returned to his bundle and hefted it to his shoulder. With a toothless triumphant grin he staggered from the restroom.

"Sometimes you get a chance to do good things for people in this job," said Simeone lighting a cigarette, making Roy wish he would not smoke in the stifling dark enclosure of the shed.

It was perhaps five minutes when another step was heard. A tall, muscular man of about thirty entered, walked to the sink and ran a comb deliberately through his wavy brown hair without glancing to his left. Then he examined the wide collar of a green sport shirt worn beneath a lightweight well-fitting lime sweater. Then he walked to each toilet stall and looked inside. He then walked to the urinal which had been occupied by the pale man, unzipped his trousers and stood there not urinating. Ranatti nodded in the darkness to Roy but Roy did not believe he could be a fruit. The man stood at the urinal for almost five minutes craning his neck occasionally toward the door when a sound was heard outside. Twice Roy thought someone would enter and he now knew of course what the man was waiting for, and he shivered in the back of his neck and decided when another one came in he did not want to watch, was not curious enough to watch because already he felt slightly nauseated. He always had the idea that fruits were all swishes, hence identifiable, and it sickened him to see this average-looking man in here, and he did not want to watch. Then an old man entered. Roy didn't see him until he was through the door and stepping lightly to the urinal at the opposite end of the line. The old man was perhaps seventy, dressed nattily in a blue pinstripe with natural shoulders and matching vest, and a blue silk tie over a pale blue shirt. His hair was pearl white and styled. His hands were lightly veined and he picked nervously at invisible lint on the impeccable suit. He looked at the tall man at the other urinal and smiled and the light glinted off his silver collar pin and Roy was struck with a wave of revulsion not imperceptible like before, but gut wrenching as the old man, still holding his hands near his groin out of Roy's line of sight, hopped along the urinals until he was standing next to the tall man. He laughed softly and so did the tall man who said, "You're too old." Roy whispered incredulously to Ranatti, "He's an old man! My G.o.d, he's an old man!"

"What the h.e.l.l," Ranatti whispered dryly, "fruits grow old too."

The old man left after being repulsed another time. He stopped in the doorway but finally left in dejection.

"He didn't really do anything lewd," Simeone whispered to Roy. "He just stood next to him at the urinal. No touching or anything. He didn't even jerk off. No good for an arrest."

Roy thought the h.e.l.l with it he had seen enough and decided to join Gant on the cool clean gra.s.s in the invigorating air when he heard voices and feet sc.r.a.ping and decided to see who or what would enter. He heard a man say something in rapid Spanish and a child answered. The only thing Roy understood was "Si Papa." Then Roy heard the man walking away from the doorway and he heard other children's voices talking Spanish. A boy of about six skipped in the restroom not looking at the tall man and ran to a toilet where he turned his back to the watchers, dropped his short pants to the floor revealing his plump brown behind, and urinated in the toilet while he hummed a child's song. Roy smiled for a moment, but then he remembered the tall man. He saw the tall man's hand moving frantically in the area of his crotch and then he stepped away from the urinal and m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed as he faced the boy but hurriedly returned to the urinal when a child's shrill laugh pierced the silence from the outside. The boy adjusted his pants and ran from the restroom still humming, and Roy heard him shout, "Carlos! Carlos!" to a child who answered from a long way across the park. The child never saw the tall man who now grunted while he stood at the old place and his hand moved more frantically than before.

"See? Our job is is worth doing," Simeone grinned viciously. "Let's take that b.a.s.t.a.r.d." worth doing," Simeone grinned viciously. "Let's take that b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

As the three men broke from the shed door, Simeone whistled and Gant came running from the clump of swaying elms. Roy saw a man and three children across the expanse of darkness strolling across the gra.s.s carrying shopping bags. They were almost out of the park.

Simeone led the way into the restroom with his badge in his hand. The man looked at the four vice officers and fumbled with the zipper of his trousers.

"You like kids?" Simeone grinned. "I'll bet you got some little bubblegummers of your own. Want to bet, Rosso?" he said and turned to Ranatti.

"What is this?" asked the man, his face white, jaw twitching.

"Answer me!" Simeone commanded. "You got kids? And a wife?"

"I'm getting out of here," said the man, walking toward Simeone who shoved him back against the wall of the restroom.

"No need for that," said Gant, standing on the threshold.

"I'm not getting rough," said Simeone. "I just want to know if he's got a wife and kids. They almost always do. Do you, man?"

"Yes, of course. But why are you arresting me? Lord, I didn't do anything," he said as Simeone handcuffed his hands behind his back.

"Always handcuff fruits," Simeone smiled to Roy. "Always. No exceptions."

As they were leaving the park, Roy walked behind with Gant.

"How do you like working fruits, kid?" asked Gant.

"Not too good," Roy answered.

"Look over there," said Gant, pointing toward the pond where a slender young man in tight coffee-colored pants and a lacy orange shirt was mincing along the edge of the water.

"That's what I thought all fruits looked like," said Roy.

The young man stopped every thirty feet or so, genuflected, crossed himself, and prayed silently. Roy counted six genuflections before he reached the street where he disappeared in the pedestrian traffic.

"Some of them are pretty pitiful. That one's trying to resist," Gant shrugged, offering Roy a cigarette which he accepted. "They're the most promiscuous creatures that ever walked the earth. They're so G.o.dd.a.m.ned unsatisfied they're always seeking. Now you see why we try to work wh.o.r.es, and gambling, and bars as much as possible. And remember, you can get the s.h.i.t kicked out of you working fruits. On top of all the rest of the c.r.a.p you got to put up with, it's dangerous as h.e.l.l."

Roy's mind drifted back then, back to college. He had been reminded of someone. Of course! he thought suddenly, as he remembered the mannerisms of Professor Raymond. It had never occurred to him before! Professor Raymond was a fruit!

"Can we work wh.o.r.es tomorrow night?" asked Roy.

"Sure, kid," Gant laughed.

At midnight, Roy was getting tired of sitting in the vice office watching Gant do his paper work as he talked baseball with Phillips and Sergeant Jacovitch. Ranatti and Simeone had not returned since taking the fruit to jail, but Roy heard Jacovitch mention their names during a phone conversation and he cursed when he hung up and muttered something to Gant while Roy glanced over vice reports in the other room.

Ranatti and Simeone rushed in just after midnight. "Ready to raid The Cave?" Ranatti grinned.

"I got a call, Rosso," said Jacovitch quietly. "Some wh.o.r.e called and asked for the sergeant. Said her name was Rosie Redfield and that you guys tore the wiring out of her car and flattened her tires."

"Us?" said Ranatti.

"She named you," said Jacovitch soberly to the young men who did not seem overly surprised.

"That's the wh.o.r.e that thinks she owns Sixth and Alvarado," said Simeone. "We told you about her, Jake. We busted her three times last month and she got her cases consolidated and got summary probation. We've done everything to try to get her to hustle someplace else. h.e.l.l, we got two vice complaints about her hustling on that corner."

"Did you know where she parked her car?" asked Jacovitch.

"Yeah, we know," Ranatti admitted. "Did she say she saw us f.u.c.king up her car?"