Still, she felt lucky.
She was still feeling lucky when the bullet smashed through her upper lip, shattering the gum ridge, careening downward through her windpipe, cracking her upper spine, and blowing a huge hole out of her neck as it left her body.
The bullet spent itself against the brick wall of the building against which she fell dead.
The bullet was a Remington .308.
6
It is true that in a democracy all men are equal in the eyes of the law, but this does not necessarily apply to all dead men. It would be nice to believe that a detective investigating the murder of a Skid Row wino devoted all his time and energy to the case in an attempt to discover the perpetrator. It would be nicer to believe that the untimely demise of a numbers runner or a burglar occasioned anything but relief, an attitude of “Good riddance” on the part of the police. But there is a vast difference between a murdered millionaire and a murdered criminal. A prostitute, who steals nothing, is nonetheless guilty of a violation, and in the lexicon of the police is a criminal. The death of the Culver Avenue prostitute would have caused little more than slight passing interest, had it not been for the fact that she was slain by a .308-caliber Remington cartridge. As it was, she acquired more status in death than she had ever known in life, either in the eyes of men or in the eyes of the law.
The law is curiously ambiguous concerning prostitutes. The penal law describes prostitution and disorderly houses in detail, but there is nowhere in the code a definition of a prostitute per se. Under the section on prostitution, there are listed:
(1) Abduction of female for purposes of
(2) Compulsory prostitution of women
(3) Compelling prostitution of wife of another
(4) Corroboration of testimony of female compelled or procured
(5) Pimps and procurers
(6) Transporting women for purposes of
Under the section on disorderly houses there are listed:
(1) Abduction of females
(2) Admission of minors
(3) Compulsory prostitution in
(4) Keeping or renting
(5) Sending messenger boys to
…and so on. Some of these crimes are felonies. But nowhere in these subdivisions is there reference to the crime of the prostitute herself. There is only one place in the penal law where love for sale is defined. Curiously, it is in Section 722, which defines disorderly conduct: “Any person who with intent to provoke a breach of the peace, or whereby a breach of the peace may be occasioned, commits any of the following acts shall be deemed to have committed the offense of disorderly conduct.”
The “following acts” include anything from using threatening language, to causing a crowd to collect, to making insulting remarks to passing pedestrians, and, under Subdivision 9: “frequents or loiters about any public place soliciting men for the purpose of committing a crime against nature or any other lewdness.”
If one can call going to bed with a man “a crime against nature,” then that is prostitution. It is not called prostitution in this section. It is called “soliciting,” but in the section titled “Solicitation: Lewd or immoral purposes, solicitation for,” there is listed only the following: “Male persons living on proceeds of prostitution: Every male person who lives wholly or in part on the earnings of prostitution, or who in any public place solicits for immoral purposes, is guilty of a misdemeanor. A male person who lives with or is habitually in the company of a prostitute and has no visible means of support, shall be presumed to be living on the earnings of prostitution.”
So what is an honest, conscientious cop supposed to do when an obvious whore sidles up to him and asks, “Want some fun, honey?” Left to his own devices, he might accept the offer. Bound by the penal law, he might arrest her for disorderly conduct, the penalty for which can be a jail sentence not to exceed six months, or a fine not to exceed $50, or both. But the penal law is bolstered by the Code of Criminal Procedure, and every cop in the city knows Section 887, Subdivision 4, by heart. Every prostitute has committed it to memory, too, because this is where they get her by the codes. Section 887 describes, of all things, vagrants. “The following persons are vagrants,” it states, and then goes on to list everyone including your Uncle Max. When it comes to Subdivision 4, it pulls no punches.
4. A person (a) who offers to commit prostitution, or (b) who offers to secure for another for the purpose of prostitution or for any other lewd or indecent act; or (c) who loiters in or near any thoroughfare or public or private place for the
purpose of inducing, enticing or procuring another to commit lewdness, fornication, unlawful sexual intercourse or any other indecent act…
That would seem to cover it, man. But those puritan forefathers weren’t taking any chances. Section 887, Subdivision 4, goes on to state:
…or (d) who in any manner induces, entices or procures a person who is in any thoroughfare or public place or private place, to commit any such acts; or (e) who receives or offers or agrees to receive any person into any place, structure, house, building or conveyance for the purpose of prostitution, lewdness or assignation or knowingly permits any person to remain there for such purposes; or (f) who in any way, aids or abets or participates in the doing of any of the acts or things enumerated in Subdivision four of Section eight hundred and eighty-seven of the Code of Criminal Procedure; or (g) who is a common prostitute, who has no lawful employment whereby to maintain herself.
That’s a vagrant, sir, madam. And if that is what you are, you can under Section 891 (a) of the same code be sent to a reformatory for as long as three years, or a county jail, penitentiary, or other penal institution for as long as a year—so watch yourself!
The man named Harry Wallach was a male person who lived with or was habitually in the company of the prostitute named Blanche Lettiger, the woman who had been shot to death on the night of April 30. It did not take the police long to find him. Everybody knew who Blanche’s “old man” was. They picked him up the next morning in a poolroom on North Forty-first, and they brought him to the station house and sat him down in a chair and began asking their questions. He was a tall, well-dressed man, with hair graying at the temples, and penetrating green eyes. He asked the detectives if it was all right to smoke, and then he lit a 50¢ cigar and sat back calmly with a faint superior smile on his mouth as Carella opened the session.
“What do you do for a living, Wallach?”
“Investment,” Wallach said.
“What kind of investment?” Meyer asked.
“Stocks, bonds, real estate. You know.”
“What’s the current quotation on AT&T?” Carella asked.
“Not in my portfolio,” Wallach said.
“What is in your portfolio?”
“I don’t remember offhand.”
“Do you have a broker?”
“Yes.”
“What’s his name?”
“He’s in Miami right now on vacation.”
“We didn’t ask you where he was, we asked you what his name is.”
“Dave.”
“Dave what?”
“Dave Milias.”
“Where’s he staying in Miami?”
“Search me,” Wallach said.
“All right, Wallach,” Meyer said, “what do you know about this woman Blanche Lettiger?”
“Blanche who?” Wallach said.