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CRANKYBLANCA
Chapter 20: "I stick out my neck for nobody."
RBB [voiceover]: The riot was over, and I was as tired as I'd ever been in my life, but we had unfinished business. Princess and I turned in our riot gear, and headed back to the morgue, where we found Doc Rochelle asleep at her desk. I hated to do it, but it had to be done. We woke her up and asked her to finish her autopsy on Bulworth.
DOC ROCHELLE: You people are slavedrivers, you know that? You're worse than Dr. Shakesmear, and my only consolation is that you're up too and the two of you look more exhausted than I am.
PRINCESS OF PMS: We didn't get any sleep, and you did.
RBB: Come on, Doc, what more is there to learn from the poor bastard?
DOC ROCHELLE: Actually, I'd just finished writing up the report. I'm done cutting and taking samples and doing tests. The cause of death was what I told you. Also, if that one hadn't worked, he had a miniaturized thermite bomb embedded in his cerebral cortex. The poor bastard was destined to die the moment he broke ranks with them; it was only a question of which would get him first, the thermite brain bomb or the nanovirus in his gut. Look, can you walk me to my car? I don't like staying around this neighborhood this late, and I want to see my husband and my kids.
RBB: Sure, no problem.
RBB [voiceover]: We walked her to her car, and saw her off. Then Princess and I headed back to Cranky's.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Richard?
RBB: Hmmm?
PRINCESS OF PMS: Thanks for letting me drive.
RBB: What do you mean? I don't drive. And even if I did, you're a damn good driver. Why would I pull rank on you if you're good at it and like it?
PRINCESS OF PMS: Some guys...
RBB: I'm not some guys, right?
PRINCESS OF PMS: Right.
RBB: It's not looking good, is it?
PRINCESS OF PMS: No, it's not, Richard. They always seem a jump ahead of us. Even when we catch a break, as with Bulworth, they take him out before he can give us anything really useful.
RBB: Do you have any ideas?
PRINCESS OF PMS: Actually, I do. jen and Helen the Dyke are shifting gears. We can do one thing that might have two effects -- infiltrate them.
RBB: Who would infiltrate them?
PRINCESS OF PMS: A woman would have to do it. Someone who is a feminist and who can take out any guy who goes up against her.
RBB: Someone who can talk the talk and walk the walk, you mean.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Yes, exactly.
RBB: Good idea. Whom do you have in mind?
PRINCESS OF PMS: Well ... you won't like this, Richard ...
RBB: I don't do drag, Princess.
PRINCESS OF PMS [smiling]: Thanks. I needed that. Well ... I was talking about me.
RBB [explosively]: No. No way. No *fucking* way.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Why not? Because you think I can't handle it?
RBB: No. I know that you *could* handle it. But would they believe you? I don't think so.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Why not?
RBB: We've been at each other's backs through thick and thin all the way through this mess, and the one before this. They'd never trust you. They'd be convinced that you were a plant no matter what you did. Even though you could probably out-act Emma Thompson with one hand tied behind your back, they wouldn't trust you. Besides -- you're too valuable to risk.
PRINCESS OF PMS: And you're not?
RBB: I already said I don't do drag.
PRINCESS OF PMS: OK, then whom?
RBB: I think I have just the person in mind.
RBB [voiceover]: I wasn't snowing Princess, either. I did have the right person in mind, and I was looking forward to seeing her again and to springing the idea on her. I reached for the car phone and dialed Lieutenant zeppo.
SGT. MENDO [on phone]: Homicide.
RBB: Let me speak to Lieutenant zeppo, please. Professor Bernstein here.
SGT. MENDO [on phone]: Hey, prof. How's it hanging?
RBB: Sgt. mendo? Is that you?
SGT. MENDO [on phone]: None other. zeppo went home; he was holding his eyelids open with roach clips.
RBB: Cute, very cute. OK, I need your help. Pick up Wargasm and bring her to Cranky's Cafe Americain. Don't tell her why -- in fact, tell her that you're busting her for inciting a riot.
SGT. MENDO [on phone]: Will do.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Wargasm, huh? That's a brilliant idea. Not Tick?
RBB: Tick's still on maternity leave. And Wargasm is the right person for the job.
PRINCESS OF PMS: I hope she's in the mood to do it.
RBB [voiceover]: A half hour after we got back to Cranky's, Sgt. mendo and Sgt. Zorro brought Wargasm in. She looked just as good, and just as sultry, as I'd remembered her. A blonde with everything in all the right places, and a look on her face that said that she knew where every one of the right places was and the best way to make each one feel good on her and on you. I didn't want to know about her past -- and something told me that, if I did, it would take me the rest of my life just to get the outlines of the story down on paper. I shook my head wryly as I heard her coming in before I saw her. She was a spitfire, all right. Princess looked at me and raised one eyebrow -- a trick I've never been able to do -- and I winked at her. She smiled, but it was a smile that made me as nervous as it amused me.
At that moment, the radio kicked in.
VINYLMAN: Hello, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, guys and dolls, dogs and cats. This is Vinylman, your doctor of archaeological discography, playing all the good old stuff and the good new stuff, what there is of it, at WKRK, Radio Crankyland. And now a little late-night number for all of you who are in the mood for some lovin' -- Donna Summer with a disco hit that's just as hot as it was two decades ago, "Love to love ya, baby."
RBB: I don't believe it.
PRINCESS OF PMS: That guy's timing is unbelievable.
RBB: Here she comes now.
WARGASM: Unhand me! This isn't the police station! I want my lawyer! Is it about that guy? We were friends -- there was nothing illegal about what we were doing!
SGT. ZORRO: Come on in, ma'am, and we'll explain everything.
WARGASM: I want it explained NOW!
SGT. ZORRO: Ma'am, you were picked up for inciting a riot, and that's all I know. Now step this way or we'll have to get you there by the fireman's carry.
SGT. MENDO: And my back isn't what it used to be.
WARGASM: I will *not* step this way. I will -- oh, crap. I should have known that *you* were at the bottom of this.
RBB: Sit down and rest yourself. I have a suggestion for you....
WARGASM: Sorry, pal, I don't do mercy --
RBB: I wasn't asking for that, kid. Now will you listen to me or not? The inciting-to-riot charge is no phony. We have video of you with the crowd, video *and* audio. We could make that stick, but there's another option.
WARGASM: Screw your other option.
RBB: Look, you were out there because you thought that Crankyland was coming to an end, and you were scared, right?
WARGASM [unwillingly]: Right.
RBB: It *could* come to an end, and take all of us with it, but you could help prevent that.
WARGASM: That movie you love so much -- I'll quote it for you: "I stick out my neck for nobody."
PRINCESS OF PMS: He's not asking you to stick out your neck for anybody but yourself. Didn't you hear him? Crankyland going down could mean you going down along with it.
WARGASM [leering]: Going down, huh? That sounds good to me.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Winking out -- heading down the drain -- going up the spout -- shuffling off the mortal coil and joining the Choir Invisible.
RBB: You're a Monty Python fan, too?
PRINCESS OF PMS: Of course, isn't everybody?
WARGASM: I'm not. How do I know that you're not bullshitting me?
RBB: Bulworth.
WARGASM: What about him?
RBB: He's the thirteenth person to have died on the way to the bad guys' goal of shutting down Crankyland for good.
WARGASM [shocked, near tears]: I don't believe you.
RBB: Take a look.
RBB [voiceover]: I slid one of Doc Rochelle's autopsy photos of the corpse in front of her. She was tough, but not that tough. She put her hand over her mouth and started to make noises. I pushed over a wastebasket and she used it. Princess winced. I kept my face poker-straight. I didn't like what I was doing very much, but it had to be done. When Wargasm was through, I passed her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her mouth with one corner and then handed it back, wiping her eyes with a corner of the tablecloth at the table where we were sitting.
WARGASM: But he was just a kid....
RBB: Half of the corpses *are* just kids, Wargasm. I have the photos right here.
RBB [voiceover]: Actually, I didn't. I was just bluffing. I reached down to my briefcase and pulled out a leatherette folder I usually kept unanswered mail in. She waved it away hastily, and I made a big show of sliding it back into the briefcase.
RBB: Now, how about it?
WARGASM: How would I do this?
RBB: You're still friendly with jen, right?
WARGASM: Sure. She suggested that I show up in front of Cranky's tonight and have some fun.
RBB [voiceover]: I smiled to myself. She just proved that she was ready to go along, for if she weren't, she wouldn't have stuck her neck in the noose like that. She had about admitted that jen had put her up to conspiring to incite the riot. I looked over at Princess and she nodded almost imperceptibly; she'd gotten the point too.
RBB: OK, get in touch with jen and see what you can do about getting on her good side and she'll probably bring you on board.
WARGASM: How do you know that?
RBB: There are at least two openings, and she almost certainly wants to beef up the number of women in the plot.
WARGASM: OK. I'll do it. But it's not for you or for *her*. And it's not for that purple geek, either. It's for the kid. Nobody should die that young, Bernstein. Nobody.
RBB: No argument here, kid.
PRINCESS OF PMS: We'd better talk about the details of your assignment, and what you'll need.
RBB [voiceover]: Unwillingly, Wargasm started talking with Princess, but I figured that the two of them would relax and work OK together. My throat was dry, and I motioned to a sleepy waiter, who brought me a big glass of ice water, which was the only thing I wanted to drink. I sipped it and felt its coldness slide down my throat. It was different from the cold dread I had been feeling all night. I was starting to think that we were about to gain the upper hand. I was right, but it would be a long and painful road.
[...to be continued...]
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