Authors: Martin Limón
“Now hold on,
Ser
-geant,” the major said, dragging the word out a few extra syllables. “I’m the security officer here and I’m sure as hell not going to let you come in here and cast aspersions and insults.”
The major got up real close and stuck his nose right in my face.
“You asked me to tell you, sir.” I struggled to keep my voice even.
“Don’t argue with me!” His foul breath wafted up against my closed mouth. “And stand at attention when I’m talking to you.”
I wanted to punch him and he knew it. And the more I showed it, the more he enjoyed it. I came slowly to attention.
“Who’s your commander?” the major barked.
I hesitated and then answered. “Captain Daily.”
“And your immediate supervisor?”
From the corner of my eye I saw Ernie moving slowly away from the bar. He held a glass ashtray in his hand; the sharp, jagged point protruding from between his thumb and forefinger.
His movements were languid—zombie-like—and his head was tilted back, lifting his nose high into the air. He peered down from this vantage point and moved toward us as if his mind had retreated to some higher plane.
I ran at him, hit his shoulders with my forearms, and got him moving back towards the exit. He allowed his body to be guided towards the door but his head swiveled back at the offending officer. Behind his glasses, his bulging eyes were fixed on Zaronsky, who had fallen uncharacteristically silent.
By the time we arrived at the PM station it was too late.
“What’d you do with her?”
“Turned her over to the KNPs.” The desk sergeant was working the crossword puzzle in that day’s
Pacific Stars
&
Stripes.
It seemed to be much more interesting to him than the Kimiko incident.
“But she just kicked a major general in the balls.”
“He decided not to press charges. Public relations, you know. Who wants to admit that an old, worn-out business girl got the best of a warrior like General Bohler? Don’t press charges, turn her over to the Korean National Police, that’s the best route. They’ll work her over good. That’s what the man wanted. Otherwise he’d lose face.”
“Which police station did they send her to?”
“Itaewon.”
Ernie and I headed towards the door.
The desk sergeant glanced up from his puzzle. “What’s a tenletter word for ‘a destroyer of sacred images’?”
“Ball-breaker,” I said.
Ernie and I trudged back to the Main Supply Route and this time it took twenty minutes to flag down a taxi.
Ernie said, “If I’d known we were going to be working on a case tonight, during our off-duty hours, I’d have checked out the jeep.”
“No sweat, Ernie. You can afford it.”
“It’s your turn to pay for the cab.”
“Like hell. I got a family to support.”
“The King Club bartender and Miss Oh don’t count. They’re only Class B dependents. Me, I got the Nurse.”
Nobody could accuse the Nurse of being Class B. I paid the cab fare.
We got off about a block before reaching the Itaewon Police Station. I wanted to sneak up on the place. In case we heard screaming.
She clutched the bars, spread-eagled; her long black hair in mad, sweat-matted disarray. Her dress was hiked up to her waist and her facial muscles were bunched in knots across her face as she grunted and held on.
The two policemen trying to pull Kimiko out of her cell were getting nowhere and when they sensed the presence of two large Americans they pulled harder, cursed, and first a brass button and then an epaulet popped off of their uniforms. Finally one of them let go, Kimiko’s body recoiled towards the bars, and then he was pummeling her.
She swung back wildly but it was no contest and, while she was protecting herself from the blows, the other policeman grabbed her under her arms and jerked her through the doors and down the hallway to the interrogation room.
Captain Kim came up behind us, red faced, waving his hand in front of my nose.
“No. No. No. You go! You go!”
He put his head down and pushed me and Ernie back towards the front desk.
When we had come in, no one was paying too much attention to us so we decided to slip back into the cell block and see how Kimiko was doing. Now we knew.
“We want to talk to her,” I said.
“Not now. She is in our custody. First we will talk to her. Later you talk to her.”
“When?”
Captain Kim paused and looked around the room, catching his breath.
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow you come back.”
There was nothing else to do. She was in their jurisdiction and, as far as the United States was concerned, no charges had been filed by us against her.
As we were escorted out of the police station, we heard more guttural cursing down the hallway and what sounded like a slap.
We walked until we were out of sight of the police station and then we hopped across the street to the Hamilton Hotel. We found a narrow alley running off the Main Supply Route that gave us a clear view inside the police box, and there we stood in the shadows. I doubted that they’d spot us, primarily because they weren’t looking.
“Well, we’re here,” Ernie said. “We got a great view of the Itaewon Police Box. My next question is, why?”
“I want to make sure they don’t take Kimiko anywhere.”
“Hold on a minute, pal. I’m not going to stand outside here all night just to protect the human rights of some poor innocent bar girl.”
“We won’t have to stand here all night. Just until Captain Kim leaves. He’s the honcho. Nothing important happens unless he’s there to supervise it.”
“Why would they want to move her?”
“I’m not sure. She seems to be at the center of this whole thing. I just don’t want to lose tabs on her.”
“And when Captain Kim leaves?”
“We take the rest of the night off. And then come back here before he returns to work.”
“Holy shit, George. You always get like this. Taking these cases too personal. If Kimiko knows anything about the murder, the KNPs will get it out of her tonight, and if not, at least they’ll give her a block of instruction on the importance of not kicking general officers in the
cajones.
Nothing to worry about.”
“I want to talk to her.”
“And you’re worried about losing her trail?”
“Right.”
Ernie sighed. “All right. I’ll get the beer.”
In a few minutes he was back with a big frosty liter of OB. The cap had already been popped off. He took a swig and handed the bottle to me. I was hot and thirsty from all the running around and the beer tasted delicious. I gurgled about half of it down.
We waited.
By the time we were thinking about buying another bottle, Captain Kim walked out of the police box. He had changed into a dark blue business suit and carried a briefcase. Korea, for all its modernity and contacts with the Western world, is still a Confucian society. Scholars are esteemed while people who work with their hands, like policemen, are lower on the social ladder. So it’s not uncommon for people to change into suits on their way to and from work, hoping they will look like your average professor of nuclear physics. Even my houseboy did it.
Ernie watched him go. “Just another day at the office.”
“And now we’re off duty, too.”
“Where to?”
“Where else?”
We walked across the Main Supply Route, up the hill, and into the glittering heart of Itaewon.
The King Club was packed and Miss Oh was busy serving drinks. Ernie and I wedged ourselves into the crowd at the bar so as to stay as close to the source as possible. She spotted me, gave me a half smile, and then let it drop. Trouble.
The band wailed away. They were a little better than the one the club used to have. I figured two or three more beers and then I might be able to fool myself into believing they were on key. The last combo had required a six-pack.
I leaned towards Ernie. “Who’s it going to be tonight? Miss So or the Nurse?”
“I sort of gave up on Miss So. The Nurse is all right. She takes care of me.”
Like the time she took the butcher knife to you, I thought. And threw your mattress into the well.
Miss Oh walked by, balancing a tray full of drinks. She sidled her way through the tables and served a group in front of the dance floor. When she was finished, she stopped in front of me.
“I can’t see you tonight,” she said, and started to walk off.
I grabbed her by the arm. “Why?”
“Somebody’s having a big party tonight. I have to go.”
“Who?”
She swiveled her head and stared at me. Her narrow eyes flattened a little. “Why you ask me?”
“Is it the new honcho in Itaewon? Mr. Kwok?”
Her eyes widened for a moment and then her lips tightened. “Yeah. That’s him,” she said. “Mr. Kwok. So what?”
I let go of her arm, we glowered at one another for a moment, and then she tossed her hair back as she walked away. I watched her hot pants sway as she teetered down the crowded aisle.
Ernie took a swig of his beer, looked at me, grinned.
“Miss Lim?”
I thought of something coarse to say but instead just slammed my empty beer bottle down on the bar. “Yeah.” I said.
It was against my principles but there I was in the American Club, after already spending the last two nights with her, looking for Miss Lim again. I didn’t ask but Ginger told me that she hadn’t been in yet. After serving us a couple of beers, Ginger slid off, back to the telephone. If I hadn’t known better, I might have suspected that she was doing something devious. Actually I didn’t mind, and I was fuming about Miss Oh. In my opinion she was the best-looking woman in Itaewon and she had to be on everybody’s list of the top ten. If the honchos have a big party, they will staff it with the best-looking help available and Miss Oh was sure to be in on it. This guy Kwok—she hadn’t flinched when I mentioned his name, so maybe she didn’t actually know him. Or maybe she would have agreed with whatever name I gave her just to make me jealous. If so, it was working.
By the time Miss Lim arrived, I had calmed down and was delighted to see her. We had a few beers and then a few more and the band started to sound great. I even danced with her one time: a slow dance, to be sure.
I have a theory about fast dancing, that it’s intended to make men look ridiculous. And the more ridiculous a woman can make a man look, the more power she has over him and the more she affirms her own attractiveness. It makes me want to barf to see all those guys out there shucking and jiving with big smiles on their faces, as if they’re really enjoying themselves. I don’t believe it. Why don’t they admit that they’d rather be in the sack with the woman and stop pretending that they love the rhythm and the sounds of the movement? Give me a break.
Once, at the Lower Four Club, I was somewhat less than sober and a girl Riley had picked up somewhere coaxed me into fast dancing with her. When they saw me on the dance floor, Riley and Ernie had apoplectic fits that ended up with them both rolling on the carpet, holding their stomachs. But there was nothing wrong with slow dancing with Miss Lim and it made me remember what had gone on last night and made me want to repeat it again tonight. I even came up with some new ideas.
By the time we left, Ginger was pleased with her handiwork and Ernie and I walked out into the cold air, Miss Lim held firmly between us.
Ernie hailed a cab and guided him down the MSR a couple of blocks, up a steep hill, and around a few alleys until we pulled to a halt in front of the Nurse’s hooch.
She stood in the doorway, nightgown fluttering, silhouetted by the stark light behind her. We all took off our shoes, sat down on the warm vinyl floor, and the Nurse put on some music. Ernie slipped her some money, and in a few minutes she was back with beer, unhusked peanuts, and strings of dried cuttlefish. We drank and feasted and laughed and when it got too late, we turned off the music and turned off the light and Ernie slept with the Nurse in the bed and I slept with Miss Lim on the floor.
At dawn I shook Miss Lim awake. She seemed confused, and embarrassed about being there. I helped her find her clothes and then walked her out to the street and hailed a taxi for her. If I were more of a gentleman, I would have paid the cab fare.
Ernie was up by now and the Nurse had prepared a large pan of warm water for each of us. I squatted outside, washed my face, and borrowed one of Ernie’s razors to shave. Without a mirror. When we were presentable we sat cross-legged in the hooch while the Nurse served us steaming cups of freeze-dried coffee.
By the time the first rays of sunlight were warming the narrow lanes of Itaewon, we were back in our alley, watching the police station. Passersby, scurrying on their way to work, squinted at the two big Americans loitering in the cold shadows. I didn’t mind. I just hoped the police wouldn’t notice.
Captain Kim worked late but he also arrived late and it got real uncomfortable waiting for him. I sauntered over to the Hamilton Hotel once and used a public phone to call Riley at the office. I told him to let Top know that we were following up a lead on the Pak Ok-suk murder case. The less details the better. Of course, Top might get sort of peeved at us being out here, since they already had a suspect and the case was ostensibly wrapped up, but he hadn’t told us not to continue working on it and, anyway, I’d worry about that later. Ernie wasn’t complaining. He’d hung with me through worse shit.
Finally, when it was almost nine o’clock, Captain Kim, in his neatly pressed blue suit, strolled into his place of business. It was nice to have the waiting over but then we had to wait again. There was no telling if, or when, he would release Kimiko. Waiting’s the worst part about being a CID agent and Ernie swore if he ever got out of this shit, he’d never wait for anything again. If he needed a cavity filled, he’d go to the emergency room.
“Yesterday he said we could talk to her,” Ernie said. “So why don’t we just Bogart on in there?”
“He’d probably stall us and then hold on to her until we cleared the area. If we hold tight here, Captain Kim might decide to let her go early, before we arrive to start asking questions.”