Blood Test by Kellerman, Jonathan

the time people talked it out. But sometimes it got

physical. I can recall at least one intern getting

slugged by a father. Plenty

who’d lost his leg in a hunting

before his daughter came down with kidney tumors

carried a couple of pistols into the hospital the day

after she died. It was usually the ones who denied

it and held it in and didn’t communicate with anyone

who were the most ‘explosive.” Which fit the

description Beverly had given me of Garland Swope.

I told him so.

“So that could be it,” he said uneasily.

“But you don’t think so.”.

The heavy shoulders shrugged.

“I don’t think anything at this point. Because

this is a crazy city, pal. More homicides each year

and folks are getting wasted for the weirdest reasons.

Last week, some old character’jammed a steak

knife in his neighbor’s chest because he was sure

the guy was killing his tomato plants with evil rays

from his navel. Deranged assholes walk into fast-food

joints and mow down kids eating burgers, for

chrissake. When I first went into Homicide things

seemed relatively logical, pretty simple, really. Most

of the stuff we used to catch was due to love or

jealousy or money, family feuds–your basic human

conflicts. Not now, compadre. Too many holes in

the Swiss cheese? Ice the deli man. Looney Tunes.”

“And this looks like the work of a crazy?”

“Who the hell knows, Alex? We’re not talking

hard science. Most probably we’ll find it was what

I said before. One of them–Probably the father–got

a good look at the shitty cards he’d been dealt

and tossed the room. They left the car behind so

it’s probably temporary.

“On the other hand, I can’t guarantee they didn’t

happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,

with a nutcase who thought they

were Pluto Vampires out to take over his iver.” He

held the matchbook between thumb and forefinger

and waved it like a miniature flag.

“Right now,” he said, “all we’ve got is this. It’s

not in my ballpark but I’ll pay the place a visit and

follow it up for you, okay?”

“Thanks, Milo. Getting to the bottom of it would

calm a few people down. Want company ?”

“Sure, why not? Haven’t seen you in a good while.

If missing the lovely Ms. Castagna hasn’t made you

unbearably morose, you might even turn out to be

good company.”

THERE WAS a’phone..number on the matchbook but

no address, so Milo called Vice and got one, along

with some background on the Adam and Eve Messenger

Service.

“They know the operation,” he said, tooling onto

Pico and heading east. “Owned by a sweetheart

named Jan Rainbo, has her finger in a little bit of

everything. Daddy’s a mob biggie in Frisco. Little

Jan’s his pride and joy.”

“What is it, a cover for an outcall service?”

“That and a few other things. Vice thinks sometimes

the messengers transport dope, but that’s only

a sideline–impromptu, when someone needs a favor.

They do some relati,ely legit stuff -party gags,

like when it’s the boss’s birthday and a nubile young

thing shows up at the office party, strips and rubs

herself all over him. Mostly it’s sex for sale, one

way or another.”

“Which sheds new light on Norm SWope,” I said.

“Maybe. You said she was good looking?”

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]onatha lllernu

“Gorgeous, Milo. Unusually so.”

“So she knows what she’s got and decides to

profit from it–it might be relevant, but what the

hell, when you get right down to it, this town was

built on the buying and selling of bodies, right?

Small town girl hits glitter-city, gets her head turned.

Happens every day.”

“That has got to be the most hackneyed soliloquy

-you’ve ever delivered.”

He broke out laughing and slapped the dashboard

with glee, then realized he’d been squinting into

the sun and put on a pair of mirrored shades.

“Oka-ay, time to play cop. What do you think ?”

“Very intimidating.”

Jan Bambo’s headquarters were on the tenth floor

of a flesh-colored high rise on Wilshire just west of

Barrington. The directory in the lobby listed about

a hundred businesses, most with names that told

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