Dead-Bang (15 page)

“You've really never tried Erovite, Shell?”

Earlier, at my apartment, I'd confessed I had never consumed even a drop of the stuff. So I merely said, “You're changing the subject.”

She laughed. “Not really. Be serious.”

“You think I'm not? O.K., no, I have not tried Erovite. I figured maybe when I got to be about a hundred years old, if I was feeling poorly I'd give it a go. But why throw matches on the fire in July, why give a drunk double Martinis? Why carry coals—”

“You have a repulsively poor opinion of yourself, don't you?”

“Would you rather I was conceited? The truth is, after what I heard I was
afraid
—”

“Shell, basically, Erovite merely normalizes the body's functions, purifies, and in a sense ‘recharges' the blood, feeds the cells, nerves, glands—”

“That's not so good. I think I've got an extra gland that should be starved—”

“—aids in the elimination of wastes and toxins, and tends to balance the entire endocrine system, while at the same time providing that system with a natural and effective stimulus. Its primary effect is simply to normalize the health and function of the body's cells, all the cells in time, cleansing them of what should
not
be in them, and providing them with substances and nutrients they
need
. It merely makes people
normal.”

“That does it. That would ruin me—”

She balled up her right fist and gave me a sharp smack in the gut. “Will you listen to me?”

I was listening. In fact, all five senses and possibly more were on the
qui vive
. Not from the small but definite pain in my gut, but because Dru's sudden flurry of activity had caused a flurry and commotion at and around and below the V-neckline of her pale green dress, and wiggled its skirt even higher on those smoothly gleaming thighs.

“O.K.,” I said. “Live dangerously if you must. I'll take a crack at it. Bring me the jug and a cup. But I refuse any responsibility for—”

“Not a jug. Or a cup. Certainly not for you, you shy brute. Taken as directed, Erovite gradually builds up and strengthens the entire system including, of course, the sexual system, increases the sexual energies and drives and desires—which, as you know, is what all this ridiculous fuss has been about. People gradually become sexually
normal
, a condition so seldom experienced these days that many, particularly those who are themselves quite unwell, consider such a state of health
ab
normal. It's strange, but they consider optimum health to be sickness.”

“That is strange. Of course, when you're not well you feel sick, and then damn near everything looks—”

“But if a person doesn't use Erovite properly—if he takes too much—it really does have a
fantastic
aphrodisiac effect. It isn't actually harmful or dangerous, like cantharides, say, but that isn't the idea. The whole purpose is for the individual to become, in every possible way,
normal.”

“Hey, this could be important. Besides, I'm curious. How much is too much?”

That was a critical moment. Critical because Dru was prevented from satisfying my curiosity right then. In consequence, I did not learn how much was too much. Whether it was therefore a beneficent moment or a bad moment—a boost to man on his upward path or a kick in his pants on the road, paved with good intentions, leading in another direction—only future students of history will be able to say, and even they may be doubtful.

But
I
say without fear of present or future contradiction: It was a critical moment.

Dru opened her mouth to reply just as Doctor Bruno walked up to us and said, “Did you hear any of the conversation, Sheldon?”

“Only part of it, Doc. Dru and I were discussing—scientific things. I heard you passing on the info I got from Samson, so I assume that was news to Cassiday. He was up to date on Festus?”

“Yes, Dave caught it on another channel. Not Mr. Kyle, but essentially the same information. Including an interview with Pastor Lemming.”

“Another channel, huh? That's nice. Maybe they'll print Lemming's retraction on handbills and pass them out in supermarkets.”

“In drugstores, more likely. Dave is nonplused. About the disappearance of the bodies, I mean. He also assumes the same two men who held us there at the house must have returned to it shortly after we left.” Bruno paused. “But he wonders, as do I,
why
they would then have removed the bodies. He made a sensible point. Finding all of us gone, the men must have realized police officers would soon be present. Their logical action then would have been to leave immediately, it would seem.”

“Yeah. If I can get my hands on them, that's one of the other questions I'll ask. Ask in a way I learned in the Marines. Incidentally, I also heard you saying something to Dave about—was it a march tomorrow?”

“Yes, a march, a demonstration. But I know you're in a hurry, Sheldon. I'll explain on the way home.” He walked to the apartment door.

As I stood up, Dru put her hand on my arm. “Why don't you come back when you're through with the police?”

“O.K. If the police are through with me. The way Sam sounded, he may want to have me arraigned first. But with luck it shouldn't take more than half an hour at the police building.”

“It doesn't matter. If you don't come back, I'll know you're safe in jail.”

“That's the spirit. Always look on the bright side. Well, the sooner I leave the sooner I'll be back.”

“So why don't you leave?”

“Well, that's … look, don't think I care. I've been thrown out of better places—”

“Will you get out of here?”

That's what I did. In the Cad, heading back down the freeway, Bruno said, “About the march tomorrow, Sheldon. As the controversy over Erovite increased during recent months, a number of groups—hundreds by now, I suppose—were formed, some supporting and some opposing the sale of Erovite. The largest and most powerful groups in opposition are the voice of Organized Medicine, the AMA, and in the religious area Lemming and the members of his Church. But there are scores of others. The groups in favor of free and unrestricted sale of Erovite are smaller, less powerful, and the news media have given much less attention to them than to the medical-religious opposition. The most vocal of those groups that support me and Dave Cassiday, and campaign for lifting of the FDA ban, is composed of former users of Erovite. Many were debilitated, some seriously ill, most improved after a period during which Erovite was available to them and, now that it is unavailable, find themselves gradually reverting to their former condition. Unfortunately, they are probably no more than twenty thousand in number, but organized in all fifty states under the name ‘Citizens FOR,' as it is usually called, though the full title is, ‘Citizens FOR: Erovite and Physical-Mental-Sexual Health and Freedom.'”

“Let's hee, that would be CF, or CFOR. Or in full, CFEPMSHF, or even GFOREPMSHF. Couldn't they have figured out a jazzier name? Man, you can't even pronounce it.”

“It was felt that
not
choosing an acronymic phrase would make the name stand out from the opposition groups, nearly all of which form readily identifiable words. There are, for example, not merely the AMA but Members of the AMA or MAMA, and PAPA—Parents Against Pornographic Aphrodisiacs—and Mothers Opposed to Men and Sex, or MOMS, even Nuns in Opposition to Nudity and Other Obscenities, or NONOO.”

“If they'd just left out ‘Other,' they'd have had a dandy, what?”

“Yes, it seems a shame. Most of these groups were long ago organized in opposition to, or
against
, numerous other evils and have now loosely united in opposition to the sale of Erovite. Which is one of the reasons for the name ‘Citizens FOR.' At any rate, since tomorrow marks the climax of Festus Lemming's campaign against virtually everything, in most of the fifty states, members of Citizens FOR plan some kind of march, meeting, or demonstration—the entire purpose being to achieve, hopefully, maximum coverage by various news media, especially television, so that the FOR side may be given more attention and publicity than has been the case till now.”

I shook my head. “It looks like a rough battle, if they're lined up against not merely the Lemmings but MAMA and PAPA and MOMS and NONOO—I
wish
they'd left out that ‘Other'—”

“Their only real hope is to do something sufficiently
dramatic
that the news media will almost have to give it national coverage. In some states, membership is so small that not more than a few dozen people will be available for demonstrations, so the intent is to concentrate on cities where there are the most Lemmings. There are more Lemmings in Southern California than anywhere else, but also more Citizens FOR, so it is incumbent upon the local group to, somehow, take at least
part
of the play away from the Church of the Second Coming, and its Pastor's announcement of the time of Jesus' arrival.” He paused. “Perhaps ‘play' is not quite the right word.”

“I gather the local group is going to march somewhere?”

“Not just somewhere, Sheldon. Up Filbert Street to Heavenly Lane and to the headquarters church of the Church of the Second Coming. They are aiming at the bull's-eye.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “I guess.” But I got a funny little feeling all along my spine, as if it had wrinkled a little. “Not, I hope, while Festus is sermonizing his worshippers.”

“No. That was considered, but was rejected for fear the march would be described as an attempt to suppress Religious Freedom throughout the Universe. And the members of Citizens FOR have no desire to prevent even Lemmings from meeting and holding whatever services they desire. They simply want to be left
alone
, so long as they do not themselves inhibit the actions of, or injure, others.”

“They've got a nerve.”

“Unfortunately, final plans are not yet completed, even though less than a day remains before the march. Most of the pro-Erovite people are strongly individualistic, they have minds of their own, are not easily led. In consequence, it is difficult for them to reach agreement—whereas all Lemmings everywhere can be instantly united by a word from their Leader. In a way, tomorrow's march may exemplify the conflict between reason and faith, and I'm afraid faith is much better organized, much more united. In the main, those who are pro-Erovite reason, argue, debate, question, doubt, and usually wind up with a compromise that is neither the best nor the worst possible solution. Lemmings, however, do not doubt their Pastor or the dogma of his Church—in fact, cannot, for if they doubt or question, they are expelled from their Eden.”

“Yeah. You mean the local Citizens FOR still don't know what they're going to do tomorrow?”

“Not every detail. It is agreed they will march, and to the Church of the Second Coming in Weilton. But as of tonight—Dave passed this on to me when I phoned him—it has not been decided whether the entire group will participate or merely a selected few from the large number available. They are also still trying to decide upon messages to be displayed on the signs and placards they will carry.”

We were near the turnoff to Monterey Park. I swung into the right lane of the freeway, slowed for the turn. “How about …‘Try Erovite—Before You Die!'?” I asked. “Or—hey, here's a great one—‘Feeling Poopy? Getting Droo—'”

“Tomorrow,” the Doc went on, pretending he hadn't heard me, “the groupy … group will meet at Dave's house and, it is hoped, reach agreement on final details. Dave has worked closely with them for the last few months, since he—as do I, of course—supports completely their goal of assuring unrestricted sale of Erovite once more. I'll give you his address and phone number, in case you need to get in touch with him.”

“Good idea. I'll want to talk with him tomorrow. Wasn't a lot of time earlier.”

“It has been an unusual night,” Bruno said in quiet understatement.

I filled a paper cup with coffee in the homicide squad room, on the third floor of L.A.'s police building, then went on into the captain's office.

Samson was grinding out a cigar in the heavy ashtray on his desk. He's a big man, solid, like a guy chipped from a boulder, with a clean-shaven pink face, fringe of iron-gray hair on his scalp, and sharp, alert eyes. Brown eyes they are, but subject to a sort of limited chameleon change, capable of turning from a brown like chocolate fudge to a brown like cold dark marble, depending on his mood. At the moment they resembled a kind of marble fudge, which I supposed meant he could go either way.

Phil Samson is the best kind of modern cop, familiar with everything from legwork through interrogation to the latest wrinkles in scientific investigation, honest, dedicated, proud of his job and good at it, overworked, always behind but always trying to catch up, and ready to lay his life on the line if “the job” required it. He's one of the many police officers with only ten fingers for a dozen holes in the dike, and a long-suppressed desire to go to the can, which is what's on the other side of the dike. He maintained, as well, a not unreasonable conviction that without him and men like him no other citizens, including those who called him and his fellow officers pigs, could walk the city's streets alone and unarmed by day, much less after dark.

Sam finished grinding out his cigar. A couple of short black butts, ends well chewed, were already in the tray. Then he looked up and glared at me for a few seconds before saying, gently, “Good of you to come, Shell. What news of great cheer do you bring me?”

“Nothing special, Sam. Just happened to be in the neighborhood—”

“Start at the beginning.”

When I finished, I swallowed the last of my coffee, crumpled the paper cup, and tossed it into his wastebasket.