pulled away by a policeman trying to restrain her, clad only in a green bikini top, began beating Father Willie Wright back against the sliding closet door and kicking him in the soft belly.
Then she was sitting on top of Father Willie, pummeling him with both fists as he covered his little face with both arms saying, "But I love you, Officer Hadley. Don't you see?"
Finally, Sergeant Nick Yanov, one of the few sober policemen at the party, overpowered the spitting kicking cursing policewoman and dragged her still naked into the other bedroom where Officer Sheila Franklin got her in a wristlock until she fell exhausted, blurting what Father Willie had done.
As the bleeding bewildered Father Willie Wright was being carried to his car by Spencer Van Moot and Harold Bloomguard, he turned his battered face to Harold Bloomguard and said, "What'd I do wrong, Harold? What'd I do?"
"I'll tell you what you did, Padre! You put that hoity-toity bitch No-Balls Hadley in her place, is all!" Harold Bloomguard cried proudly as they carried Father Willie down the sidewalk. "You just became a Legend in Your Own Time!"
From that day on, in choirboy folklore, the episode of No-Balls Hadley became known as The Night the Padre Tried to Eat Pressed Ham Through the Wrapper.
Chapter SEVEN
7-A-77: Calvin Potts and Francis Tanaguchi .
A choir practice was certainly in order and was called for by Francis Tanaguchi on The Night the U Boat Was Decommissioned. It was three months before the killing in MacArthur Park.
The night was bound to be an extraordinary one, beginning as it did with a noisy argument in which the nightwatch ganged up on Lieutenant Finque who was trying to defend the department's disciplinary policies to the rebellious assembly of blue suited young men who thought he was full of shit.
"Look," the exasperated watch commander argued, "that West Los Angeles officer deserved thirty days off for what he did."
"Deserved? Deserved?" Spermwhale Whalen thundered. "His old man and his old man's old man owned that fuckin bar for thirty years. He grew up behind the bar."
"Department policy forbids policemen to engage in off-duty employment in places where alcoholic beverages."
"What would you do if your old man was pressed for a bartender for a couple weeks?"
"He only got thirty days."
"Only? Only! Take thirty days' pay off me and I'd starve to death. So would my ex-wives and my ex-kids and my turtle. Where the fuck else does a guy get fined for somethin he does durin nonworkin hours that don't violate no laws?"
"Professional sports," said Lieutenant Finque.
"They can afford it, we can't," Spermwhale shot back. "All I can say is I'm glad I got my twenty in next January. I'm gonna start speakin my mind then."
"The lieutenant needs that like a dose of clap," said Sergeant Nick Yanov, who winked at Spermwhale.
"Fuckin pussies run this outfit," Spermwhale growled, settling down a little under the placating grin of Sergeant Yanov. "I know why all the brass downtown go up to Chinatown for lunch. They operate this fuckin department from the fortune cookies."
"Well, what say we read the crimes?" Sergeant Yanov asked, much to the relief of Lieutenant Finque who feared gross and ugly and dangerous old cops like Spermwhale Whalen. Lieutenant Finque could never seem to reason with them.
"Here's one on Virginia Road where a housewife invented a do it yourself antiburglary kit," Nick Yanov said, rubbing his bristling chin as he read. "She's an invalid who stays in bed all day with a Colt .38 under her pillow. Blew up a burglar the other day when he opened the kitchen window and tippy-toed in. Her second."
After everyone finished cheering, Sergeant Yanov looked at the clock and said, "Not much time left. Here's a mug shot of that dude the dicks want for shanking his old lady. Cut her long, deep and continuous. Hangs around the poolroom on Adams."
"Hey, Sarge," Spencer Van Moot said, "I'm getting tired of all these station calls to the old
Then she was sitting on top of Father Willie, pummeling him with both fists as he covered his little face with both arms saying, "But I love you, Officer Hadley. Don't you see?"
Finally, Sergeant Nick Yanov, one of the few sober policemen at the party, overpowered the spitting kicking cursing policewoman and dragged her still naked into the other bedroom where Officer Sheila Franklin got her in a wristlock until she fell exhausted, blurting what Father Willie had done.
As the bleeding bewildered Father Willie Wright was being carried to his car by Spencer Van Moot and Harold Bloomguard, he turned his battered face to Harold Bloomguard and said, "What'd I do wrong, Harold? What'd I do?"
"I'll tell you what you did, Padre! You put that hoity-toity bitch No-Balls Hadley in her place, is all!" Harold Bloomguard cried proudly as they carried Father Willie down the sidewalk. "You just became a Legend in Your Own Time!"
From that day on, in choirboy folklore, the episode of No-Balls Hadley became known as The Night the Padre Tried to Eat Pressed Ham Through the Wrapper.
Chapter SEVEN
7-A-77: Calvin Potts and Francis Tanaguchi .
A choir practice was certainly in order and was called for by Francis Tanaguchi on The Night the U Boat Was Decommissioned. It was three months before the killing in MacArthur Park.
The night was bound to be an extraordinary one, beginning as it did with a noisy argument in which the nightwatch ganged up on Lieutenant Finque who was trying to defend the department's disciplinary policies to the rebellious assembly of blue suited young men who thought he was full of shit.
"Look," the exasperated watch commander argued, "that West Los Angeles officer deserved thirty days off for what he did."
"Deserved? Deserved?" Spermwhale Whalen thundered. "His old man and his old man's old man owned that fuckin bar for thirty years. He grew up behind the bar."
"Department policy forbids policemen to engage in off-duty employment in places where alcoholic beverages."
"What would you do if your old man was pressed for a bartender for a couple weeks?"
"He only got thirty days."
"Only? Only! Take thirty days' pay off me and I'd starve to death. So would my ex-wives and my ex-kids and my turtle. Where the fuck else does a guy get fined for somethin he does durin nonworkin hours that don't violate no laws?"
"Professional sports," said Lieutenant Finque.
"They can afford it, we can't," Spermwhale shot back. "All I can say is I'm glad I got my twenty in next January. I'm gonna start speakin my mind then."
"The lieutenant needs that like a dose of clap," said Sergeant Nick Yanov, who winked at Spermwhale.
"Fuckin pussies run this outfit," Spermwhale growled, settling down a little under the placating grin of Sergeant Yanov. "I know why all the brass downtown go up to Chinatown for lunch. They operate this fuckin department from the fortune cookies."
"Well, what say we read the crimes?" Sergeant Yanov asked, much to the relief of Lieutenant Finque who feared gross and ugly and dangerous old cops like Spermwhale Whalen. Lieutenant Finque could never seem to reason with them.
"Here's one on Virginia Road where a housewife invented a do it yourself antiburglary kit," Nick Yanov said, rubbing his bristling chin as he read. "She's an invalid who stays in bed all day with a Colt .38 under her pillow. Blew up a burglar the other day when he opened the kitchen window and tippy-toed in. Her second."
After everyone finished cheering, Sergeant Yanov looked at the clock and said, "Not much time left. Here's a mug shot of that dude the dicks want for shanking his old lady. Cut her long, deep and continuous. Hangs around the poolroom on Adams."
"Hey, Sarge," Spencer Van Moot said, "I'm getting tired of all these station calls to the old
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