By Joseph Wambaugh
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2010 Retail ePub
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Additional info for The Black Marble
The old cop asked hopefully, since he had to hit sixteen and was down to his last ninety cents. ” Max Haffenkamp, from residential burglary, slammed the phone down. “Hollywood’s turned into a frigging ghetto! ” “Tell em you found their welfare check,” Clarence Cromwell said. ” “Lord, I hope there’s a gang killing tonight,” said Frick. ” “I’m losing weight, Irma,” Frack leered, sucking in his chest. “Stomach like a washboard. You could wash your lace underwear on my tummy. ” Just then the rape victim stormed out of the interrogation room yelling: “Well if you won’t bust that sucker, I’m goin to the F.
She squatted beside a puddle of fallen rose petals and emptied her bladder. Then she shook herself, scampered across the lawn, in through the French doors, and leaped up onto the bed. The Dalmanes and Chivas turned Madeline’s legs gelatinous. She closed the doors and threw herself into bed, hardly noticing the crumbs of mud and garden mulch on the pearly sheets. “You’re impossible, Vickie,” she scolded. ” Then she stroked Vickie’s neck once, twice, and her hand fell limp. Madeline had a wonderful dream that night.
It smelled entirely different. Now he had the impetus to do what he wanted to do. Philo Skinner learned what so many lawbreakers learn, and often admit, but not to judge and jury. It was a goddamn thrill. He was high! Philo Skinner drank moderately and despised the effect of drugs. He smoked grass and hash only to impress any young women he met in bars. Now, listening to the rain in the night, he was flying. Fifty-two years of obeying every goddamn law on the books whether it made sense or not.