Until he learned how much the gaffers could teach him.
Calazo was a good cop, serious about his job. He had witnessed a lot of crap, on the streets and in the Department, but he had never lost his Academy enthusiasm. He still believed what he was doing was important.
The Sanitation guys, for instance-a lousy job but absolutely essential if the public didn't want to drown in garbage. The same way with cops; it had to be done Most of the time Calazo went by the book. But like all experienced cops, he knew that sometimes you had to throw the book out the window. The bad guys didn't follow any rules, and if you went up against them with strict adherence to regulations, you were liable to get your ass chopped off.
This Ronald Bellsey was a case in point. The detective knew that Bellsey was guilty of the attacks near his hangouts, plus the stomping of Detective Tim Hogan. Calazo also knew there was no way Bellsey could be racked up legally for his crimes. Not enough evidence to make a case.
So the choice was between letting Bellsey waltz away free or becoming prosecutor, judge, and jury himself. The fact that Bellsey had been going to a shrink to cure his violent behavior didn't cut any ice with Calazo and he went about planning the destruction of Ronald Bellsey without a qualm. The fact that Calazo was completely fearless helped. If a guy like Bellsey could cow him, then his whole life had been a scam.
When headquarters had been in that old building on Centre Street, there had been a number of nearby shops catering to the special needs of cops: gunsmiths, tailors, guys who made shoulder holsters that didn't chafe, and such esoterica as ankle holsters, knife sheaths, brass knuckles, and the like.
There was one place,that made the best saps in the world, any length and weight you wanted, rigid or pliable. Sixteen years ago Calazo had bought a beauty: eight inches long with a wrist thong. Made of supple calfskin and filled with birdshot, it was double-stitched, and in all the years he had used it, it had never popped a stitch. And it had done rough duty.
When he prepared to confront Ronald Bellsey, that beautiful sap was the first thing that went into Calazo's little gym bag. He also packed handcuffs, a steel come-along, and two thick rolls of wide electrician's tape. He had his.38 Special in a hip holster. He didn't think he'd need anything else.
It was a Thursday afternoon, and Bellsey always got it off at three.
Calazo arrived at Betty Lee's fleabag hotel at 2:45 and called upstairs from the lobby to make sure the coast was clear. She gave him the okay.
I "You got it straight?" he asked her, taking off his fedora and overcoat.
"He knocks, you let him in, and I take over from there. Then you get lost.
Don't come back for an hour at least. Two would be better. He'll be gone by then."
"You're sure this will go okay?" she said nervously.
"Like silk," Calazo said.
"Not to worry. You're out of it."
Bellsey was a few minutes late, but the detective didn't sweat it. When the knock came, Calazo nodded at Betty Lee, then stepped to the side of the door.
"Who is it?" she called.
"Ronald."
She opened the door. He came in. Hatless, thank God. The detective took one step forward and laid the sap behind Bellsey's left ear. It was a practiced blow, not hard enough to break the skin, but strong enough to put Bellsey facedown on the carpet.
"Thank you, Betty," Calazo said.
"Out you go."
She grabbed up her coat and scampered away. Ben locked and chained the door behind her. He patted Bellsey down but found no weapons. The only thing he took was Ronald's handkerchief, somewhat soiled-which was okay with Calazo.
It took a lot of lifting, pulling, hauling, but finally the detective pulled Bellsey up into a ratty armchair. He wound tape around his torso to keep him upright. He taped his ankles to the legs of the chair. Then he taped his forearms tightly to the arms. Bellsey would only be able to move his hands.
Finally, Calazo stuffed Bellsey's handkerchief into the man's mouth. He watched closely to make certain his color wasn't changing. Then, when he was satisfied Bellsey was breathing through his nose, he went into the bathroom, got a glass of water, brought it back, and threw it into Bellsey's face. it took about three minutes and another glass of water before Ronald roused. He looked around him dazedly with glazed eyes -Good morning, glory," Detective Calazo; said cheerily.
"Got a little headache, have you?"
He felt around on Bellsey's scalp and found the welt behind the left ear. Bellsey winced when he touched it.
"No blood," Calazo said, displaying his fingertips.
"See?"
Bellsey was choking on the handkerchief, trying to spit it out.
"We got some ground rules here," the detective said.
"The gag comes out if you promise not to scream. One scream and the gag goes back in. No one's going to notice one scream in a joint like this.
Got it? You want the gag out?"
Bellsey nodded. Calazo pulled out the handkerchief. Bellsey licked his gums and lips, then looked down at his taped arms. He flapped his hands a few times. He tested the tape around his chest, then his legs. He looked up at Calazo standing over him, softly smacking his sap into the palm of one hand.
"Who the fuck're you?" Bellsey demanded hoarsely.
"The Scarlet Pimpernel," Calazo said.
"Didn't you recognize me?"
"How much you want?"
"Not much," the detective said.
"Just a little information.
Bellsey strained against his bonds. Then, when he realized that was futile, he began to rock back and forth on the chair.
"Stop that," Calazo said.
"Fuck you," Bellsey said, gasping.
The detective brought the sap thudding down on the back of the man's right hand. Bellsey opened his mouth to shriek, and Calazo jammed the wadded handkerchief back in his mouth.
"No screams," he said coldly.
"Remember our agreement?
Gonna keep quiet?"
Bellsey sat a moment, breathing deeply. Finally he nodded.
Calazo pulled out the gag.
"You better kill me," Bellsey said.
"Because if you don't, when I get loose I'm going to kill you."
"Nah," Ben Calazo said, "I don't think so. Because I'm going to hurt you-I mean really hurt you, just like you've hurt so many other people.
And you're never going to be the same again. After you get hurt bad, your whole life changes, believe me."
Something in Bellsey's eyes altered. Doubt, fear-whatever-shallowed their depths.
"Why do you want to hurt me?"
"That's easy. I don't like you."
"What'd I ever do to you?"
"What'd those four guys you stomped ever do to you?"
"What four guys?"
Calazo brought the sap down again on the back of Bellsey's left hand.
The man's head jerked back, his eyes closed, his mouth opened wide. But he didn't scream.
"The hand…" Calazo said.
"A lot of little chicken bones in there. Mess up your hands and you're in deep trouble. Even after lots of operations they never do work right again. Now tell me about the four guys."
"What four-" Bellsey started, but when he saw his captor raise the sap again, he said hastily, "All right, all right! I got into some hassles.
Street fights-you know? They were fair fights."
"Sure they were," Calazo said.
"Like that detective you took outside the Tail of the Whale. A kidney punch from behind. Then you gave him a boot. That was fair."
Bellsey stared at him.
"Jesus Christ," he gasped, "you're a cop!"
Calazo brought the bludgeon down on the back of Bellsey's right hand: a swift, hard blow. They both heard something snap. Bellsey's eyes glazed over.
"You did it-right?" the detective said.
"The four guys near your hangouts and the cop outside the Tail of the Whale.
All your work-correct?"