Fells Point: The Bondage Murder Mistress

Close to final draft

                                           Cast of Characters

KENNERLY, mid-thirties

MYSTERY WOMAN, late twenties or early thirties, attractive

MARK (bartender, Fells Point Hotel)

LEVINE, man, mid-thirties,

PETERSON, man, African-American, late thirties

DANNY bartender Mount Vernon Inn

KATE HANFORD, woman, early thirties

MAID

CHRISTOPHER man, early-mid twenties

SHANAHAN

BILL LA Bartender

TIME: 1979 with flashbacks

PLACE: Baltimore

PRODUCTION NOTES  All the songs at the beginning of scenes are suggestive but if used, rights must be obtained.

                                         Scene 1 A Hot Night in September 79

(SETTING Baltimore Police Fells Point homicide office PETERSON pours coffee TV The O’s won again last night bolstering their 1979 hopes of yet another championship season, we’ll be right back with an interview with Mike Flanagan, the winning pitcher while a Mister Ray Hair Weave commercial plays, KATE HANFORD erases a name in red on the whiteboard and replaces it with the same name in black then she exits

LEVINE (staring at the whiteboard)

Wait, uh what happened to the chalkboard and how did Kate erase a Magic Marker with her finger?

PETERSON

It’s been replaced with a whiteboard and those aren’t Magic Markers, those are dry markers.

LEVINE

Dry markers?

PETERSON

Water based so you can erase them with a cloth or even a—

LEVINE

–So, if they are water based why do they call them dry markers and when did they—

PETERSON

–Well, actually the technology was invented in 1958 by the Japanese but a US company just started importing them, the markers and the boards, a couple years ago…and the really good thing is that since the markers are water based, you can’t get high sniffing them!

LEVINE

Not my thing but I might just have to take it up… or something, all that red up there looks even worse on a WHITEBOARD! 

PETERSON

And, sadly, my friend, your name being next to Hanford with all her black makes you look even worse.

LEVINE

So why me? Why do I get all the unsolvable cases? Kate gets all the slam dunks—

     PETERSON

Dunkers!

  LEVINE

Dunkers?

    PETERSON

Dunkers! She gets all the dunkers!

   LEVINE

Isn’t that a religious sect? Pennsylvania Dutch?

   PETERSON

Yeah, I think that too but that is what we call the easy cases, dunkers.

     LEVINE

Hmmm maybe that is why she always brings in her coffee from that new place Dunkin’ Donuts you know in Highlandtown instead of drinking this battery acid. (while pouring another cup from the coffeemaker) Anyway, everything she touches turns to gol— or a uh dunker…and every time I answer the phone all I get—

   PETERSON

 (Face in the Baltimore Sun then puts the paper down)

Stop whining, it’s like baseball, sometimes everything you hit hard gets caught. Other times, your pop ups turn into doubles. It’ll turn around. Hey! Murray hit another one out last night, he stays hot and we got a chance this year. Finally! 

                                           LEVINE                                                                         

So, we won? Or should I say the Orioles won, I am still a Yankees fan—

  PETERSON

You can take the boy out of the city but—

 LEVINE

Yeah, yeah well maybe one day, I do love this town. (beat) As long as you have the Earl of Baltimore you will have a shot.

PETERSON

Someday the man will be in the Hall. Well, Boog needs to start hitting… but the pitching? This guy Flanagan is turning into another Palmer. Pitching. Defense. And three run homers (beat) so have you gotten anything from Ocean City yet on this latest Bondage Murder?

                                          LEVINE

Nothing. OCPD said they would teletype the report soon, WBAL just confirmed that it’s the same M.O. Middle-aged man found dead, naked, mouth duct taped and handcuffed and tied to his bed.

PETERSON

Oh, my God. Looks like the Bondage Mistress has finally struck again. What has it been like eight months now?

                                        LEVINE

More like seven. I’m only glad this one is in Ocean City and not here.

PETERSON

What do you have on the two in the city and the other…the one in, where was it, the Towson Towne Inn? And you still got nothing?

    LEVINE

We got nothing, absolutely nothing. No useful prints. None. All we got is that the victims are all men in their late thirties or forties. All of em throwing around wads of cash. They all have alcohol  in their blood as well as ricin—

PETERSON

–Rice and beans? I had that for lunch. Should I go the ER?

LEVINE

Okay DIRK, no time for your quipsterisms. I am sure that you know what ricin is, seeing that you read The Sun back to front. The ME was telling me there was an international incident just last week. This is James Bond type stuff, supposedly this Russian dissident was stabbed on The London Bridge by a man using a weapon built into an umbrella that injected a small amount of the poison into this guy’s leg.[1] He died two days later….anyway all of four of these guys were handcuffed, with their mouths duct-taped and naked. Oh, but the one at the Holiday Inn[2]…they found Quaaludes and this one in Ocean City? They found alcohol, ricin and pot. All of the victims had been seen drinking at the hotel bar. All of ‘em were robbed…And they were all briefly spotted with women but no one witnessed them leaving the bar together.

                                                                                           (KATE HANFORD enters)

         PETERSON

Did anyone get a make on these broads?

                                             KATE HANFORD

Hey DIRK! Would you stop calling women broads?

                                         LEVINE

Well I uh, I could think of a lot worse—

                                     KATE HANFORD

You need to think of how you are going to solve the Bondage Mistress Murders not more ways to offend women

                                                   LEVINE

Well, I—

PETERSON

DIRK, c-mon this is 1979, women deserve respect, so you got anything?

                                                  LEVINE

Not really. All we got was that all the women were tall, like 5’10” but one was a blond and the other a brunette. And get this, this one was a redhead. And tall.

        PETERSON

So, these women, I imagine are working girls but no word yet on the Ocean City perp?

          LEVINE

      LEVINE

Must hurt? You moron. It’s just like any other surgery. You know, anesthesia?

      PETERSON

Still, I can’t imagine it.  And I can’t imagine why such a respected institution would take part in such madness, such mutilation, women trapped in men’s bodies! What a load of crap!

                                                     Scene 2  OCT 79

 (SETTING: Fell Point Hotel Bar Radio: We’ll be right back with Charlie Eckman, our special guest, to discuss the Orioles heartbreaking World Series loss to the Pirates… switching stations static followed by Strangers in the Night)

                                                       KENNERLY

So, hey there, hon…say can I buy you a drink?

MYSTERY WOMAN

No.

KENNERLY

Oh gorgeous, you are so fine, are you sure I can’t buy you a drink?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Quite certain—

KENNERLY

Well then, hon, may I ask you another question?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Certainly, as long as I don’t have to answer said question.

KENNERLY

Said question?  Are you a barrister?

MYSTERY WOMAN

No, neither am I a barista.

KENNERLY

A barista, what the h—

MYSTERY WOMAN

A barista, yeah, you know someone who makes coffee like at Peet’s, although you probably prefer Starbucks—

KENNERLY

Peets?  Starbacks?

MYSTERY WOMAN

StarBUCKS!  But never mind, so I digress; you got your one question answered.  Now would you kindly leave me alone?

KENNERLY

Okay, then if that is the way you want to play—

MYSTERY WOMAN

I wasn’t aware that that is what we were doing, playing that is.  So, is that what you want to do?  Play.  Aren’t you a grown man?  You must be what, be what, 45, 46?

KENNERLY

Oh, hon, you really think I look like I am in my forties.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Yes, well, the beard and the hair, or should I say the lack thereof?

KENNERLY

Well, I am only 38.

MYSTERY WOMAN

I don’t believe you.  Show me your driver’s license.

KENNERLY

Sure, baby, but only if you let me buy you a drink.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Why is it that you continue badgering me about a drink?  Is that what you do to make a lady feel obligated?

KENNERLY

No, no, no, darling.  It wouldn’t obligate you to nothing.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Anything!

KENNERLY

Anything?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Anything.

KENNERLY

I don’t get it.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Grammar.  Proper grammar.  I don’t like men who fail to speak the King’s English.

KENNERLY

Okay then, so, me buying you a…wait…I mean to say…if I were to buy you a drink, it would not obligate you in any way.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Oh, I like that!  The future unrealized subjunctive.

KENNERLY

The future unrealized sub—

MYSTERY WOMAN

Subjunctive:  “if I were.”

KENNERLY

Oh.

MYSTERY WOMAN

So, the driver’s license?

KENNERLY

You really think I look forties?  Well, here is the proof!

(Rod Stewart’s Tonight’s the Night begins playing as KENNERLY shows driver’s license and wallet stuffed with bills)

MYSTERY WOMAN

Oh my God!  You are a Leo!  Not good!  Not good at all!

KENNERLY

Yes, I guess I am, but I don’t buy into that astrology shi…uh, nonsense, but since you brought it up.  What sign are you?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Scorpio-Sagittarius.  On the cusp.  With seven moons in Leo.  That is why we could never get along, but that would not necessarily prevent us from having absofuckinglutely wild-ass sex.  Some of the best fucks I ever had were Leos.  And that goes for both men and women!

KENNERLY

Whoa-oh-oh, child.  You refuse to let me buy you a drink; now you are speculating about us having wild ass sex!  Are you yanking my chain?  I mean, are you playing me?  I feel like I am being played.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Don’t get any ideas.  I was merely discussing my past experience with Leos, and as far as playing, it was you who brought it up.

KENNERLY

No, it wasn’t.  It was you.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Nope.

KENNERLY

Okay then, have it your way; it was me.  But I feel like I am being played.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Anyway.  Vodka martini. Stolichnaya.  Very dry.  No olive.

KENNERLY

Hey Mark!  Will you get the lady a Stoli martini, very dry, hold the olive?

MYSTERY WOMAN

So, James, or do you go by Jim?

KENNERLY

Jim is fine.

MYSTERY WOMAN

So, James Brennan Kennerly.  Irish on both sides?  First-generation?

KENNERLY

Does it matter?  Well…no, German-Irish, both of whom came here before the Civil War.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Well, that’s promising.  A lot of full-blooded Irish I have known drank like a fish.  I hate teetotalers, but I equally detest men who drink like fish.

KENNERLY

That’s not me.  I drink more like a dolphin.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Dolphin?  Dol…phin?

KENNERLY

It was a joke.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Sounds to me like you have an ulterior porpoise!

KENNERLY

Okay, ha!  Now that was funny.

(MARK brings the drink, and KENNERLY pulls out wad of bills and pays him with a fifty, MYSTERY WOMAN takes a large sip.)

MYSTERY WOMAN

Mark sure does know how to pour a great drink!

KENNERLY

So…you been here before—

MYSTERY WOMAN

Yes, with my husband.

KENNERLY

Oh then…you are married?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Divorced.

KENNERLY

Oh, okay then…

(MARK brings change and KENNERLY leaves a five-dollar tip.)

MYSTERY WOMAN

So, what’s with the big wad of bills.  Are you a drug dealer?

KENNERLY

No!  I don’t even do drugs!

MYSTERY WOMAN

Not even a little pot?

KENNERLY

Well, yeah, a little pot.  Say, what didya say your name was?

MYSTERY WOMAN

I didn’t.

KENNERLY

No, I guess you didn’t.

MYSTERY WOMAN

No.

KENNERLY

So ya gonna tell me—

MYSTERY WOMAN

Tiffany.  You can call me Tiffany. That’s not my name, but that is what you can call me.

KENNERLY

So, will we be having breakfast, Tiffany?  (beat)  So you still want to yank my chain, doncha?

MYSTERY WOMAN

That’s not all I might yank.

KENNERLY

I, uh…

MYSTERY WOMAN

That is if you play your cards right—

KENNERLY

All right, well you said it, YOU said it…again…playing.  (beat)  Are you a pro?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Pro?

KENNERLY

Professional—

MYSTERY WOMAN

Well, I would certainly consider myself professional in every aspect of the word but—

KENNERLY

–um, what I was asking is, well, what I mean is, are you a, uh, prostitute?

MYSTERY WOMAN

How dare you!  How dare you accuse me of being a whore!

KENNERLY

I, uh, I, I am awfully sorry, I just—

MYSTERY WOMAN

You just…what?

KENNERLY

I was just…I was only kidding—

MYSTERY WOMAN

Only kidding, my a…Anyway, I am going to powder my nose and don’t put anything in my drink…as a matter of fact!  (Gulps down the rest of her drink and exits.)

KENNERLY

(Aside)

This woman is a real piece of work.  A real piece of work.  I just wonder what her shot is.  Women today…..  They want equal rights.  Even want to make as much money as us.  But they still want that control.  They know what we want.  What we have to have.  They always hold that power over us, and they use it every chance they get!  Women have one of the great acts of all time.  The smart ones act very feminine and needy, but inside they are real killers.  The person who came up with the expression “the weaker sex” was either very naive or had to be kidding.  I have seen women manipulate men with just a twitch of their eye — or perhaps another body part.  Equal rights?  What a joke!  It’s us men that should be fighting for equal rights.  (beat)  I wish I was a woman.  Wait!  Did I really say that?  Well, yes, I would just like to have that power for just one day.  That pussy power.  (pause)  The power of the pussy.  That’s the ultimate power, and if we ever let them have “equality” they will have the upper hand.  They will really have the upper hand!  Hey Mark, get me another and one for the lady too…but don’t serve it till she gets back.

(MYSTERY WOMAN enters and sits down a seat away from KENNERLY.)

Oh, hon, don’t do me this way…I am awfully sorry.  I didn’t mean nothing by it.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Anything!

KENNERLY

Right!  I apologize; I did not mean to infer anything by it.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Imply!

KENNERLY

I, uh—

MYSTERY WOMAN

You did not mean to imply anything by it!

KENNERLY

That’s what I said—

(MARK brings the drink, starts to serve it to MYSTERY WOMAN, but then places it in front of the unoccupied seat.)

MYSTERY WOMAN

No, you didn’t…hey, are you and Mark in collusion…I only get the drink if I sit next to you, asshole?

(MYSTERY WOMAN takes the drink and puts it down in front of her.)

KENNERLY

Look hon.  I am awfully sorry…and we were having a nice conversation.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Is that what you call it?  A conversation?

KENNERLY

Yes, well, yes, and we even seemed to be getting somewhere–

MYSTERY WOMAN

Oh, you thought you were getting somewhere.  Ha!  Where did you think you were getting, Mr. Kennerly?  Mister James Brennan Kennerly.  Just where did you think you were getting?

KENNERLY

I, I thought we were uh, uh, uh…getting to, to know each other?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Yes, perhaps, until you called me a —

KENNERLY

I didn’t call you noth— uh, anything.  And I am truly sorry. Hey, come sit next to me.  (beat)  Oh, hey, listen, (leans and whispers) I got some ludes—

MYSTERY WOMAN

Are you sure you are not a drug dealer?

KENNERLY

No, no, c’mon Tiffy baby, don’t start with that again.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Tiffany!  Not Tiffy, baby.  My Lord, fella, this is 1979, and we already into the Second Wave of Feminism–

KENNERLY

–Second wave of… what I didn’t even know we had a first wave—

MYSTERY WOMAN

Lucretia Mott? Elizabeth Cady Stanton Seneca–

KENNERLY

Sorry, miss…. I am such an ignorant schmuck.  (beat)  So, Tiffany, dear, I got some ludes and some killer sinsemilla— so, you DO get high, right?

                                                 Scene 4 SHIFT to sept 1978

(SETTING: Baltimore Police Fells Point homicide office LEVINE sits at desk reading the paper while PETERSON finishes pouring coffee (Radio…well, the Birds lost another close one last night and  it looks more and more like it’s gonna be wait until next year for the 1978 Birds…”)

       LEVINE

Looks like its bye, bye birdies, what are they like nine games out!

  PETERSON

Yeah brutal! Another one run loss! But there’s still time.  Anything could happen.

   LEVINE

Except that your birdies are in fourth place. If anybody takes the Yanks, it’ll be the Brewers or the Red Sox.

 PETERSON

Anyway, you should worry more about all the red up on the board rather than the RED Sox!

                                         LEVINE

Well yeah, if I don’t start closing cases, my ass might be back walking the beat in Highlandtown!

                                    PEMBERTOWN

Or they could ship your behind back to Brooklyn where you belong. 

                                         LEVINE

No I love the Bay too much. Even thinking of buying a boat—

PETERSON

The Bay. Boats. Baseball. You need to think murders, my friend! Solving murder cases. Forget the boat! Forget—

LEVINE

—Yeah, yeah, yeah…but it’s getting so I am afraid to pick up the phone. I am snake-bit. If I get another serial murderer, I might start of thinking of going over to the other side. Kate, on the other hand, everything she touches turns to gold—

PETERSON

She is something! The first ever female homicide detective in this unit and she’s solved what? Thirteen in a row now?

LEVINE

I think she must be sucking Giordano’s dick and he is feeding her all the dunkers!

PETERSON

Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just do your job. She answers the phone the same way we all do. It is just the luck of the draw or maybe she is just smarter than you.

                                           LEVINE

No way! These fucking women though. They want equal rights? We let them get the upper hand and it’s all over for us. They take over the world. Damn women. They ain’t smarter.  But they have intuition. Fucking Kate has intuition. That’s why she always picks up the phone at the right time. It is her damn feminine intuition! 

PETERSON

   (singing)

Well, yes de women are uh smarter! Oh yes de women are uh smarter—

                                            LEVINE

Yes, they may be, DIRK, yes they may just well be. That’s why we can never let them get the upper hand!

(blackout)

                                               Scene 5 this is the first murder sept 78

(SETTING: Hotel room at Mount Vernon Inn.  Naked semi-conscious man, mouth duct-taped, handcuffed and tied spread-eagled to bed while the Bee-Gees Stayin’ Alive plays somewhat loudly on the radio. A “Do Not Disturb” sign hangs on the door. The man coughs weakly and murmurs. Maid approaches, listens for a moment to the murmuring, starts to walk away then stops, then decides to knock, then waits)

                                        MAID   three sections on stage

Room service…room service? 

(MAID still hearing coughing and muffled murmuring, puts key in door then stops momentarily pondering then leaves)                          

                                                    Scene 6

 (SETTING: Baltimore Police Fells Point homicide office. Jerry Reed’s “When Your Hot Your Hot” plays on radio)

       LEVINE

Well, DIRK looks like your Birds are really toast now. Ten and a half back. Mister October hit another one out last night! Let’s see, the Yanks have now won six in a row! Sings. When you’re hot, you’re hot…

        PETERSON

Like I told you yesterday, you need to worry about solving murders, not baseball. On the other hand, I always say, life is like baseball. Solving crimes is like baseball. Like the song says. Sometimes you’re hot and sometimes you’re not.

 LEVINE

[3]Well, speaking of hot, Christ I am glad we finally got the AC fixed…my  god, is it always this hot in September?

(Cont’d)

…but yeah DIRK I need to get hot. I need a DiMaggio strreak or at least a Pete Rose. (drops off) Say, you’re Catholic, right?

      PETERSON

Yes?

        LEVINE

And you have all these patron saints, right? Like I heard there are patron saints for when you lose something, patron saints for—

      PETERSON

—Saint Anthony of Padua, yes—

                                                  LEVINE

So is there a patron saint for cops who are in desperate need of a dunker?

    PETERSON

Well, I don’t think that specific but there is a patron saint for cops. Saint Michael the Archangel.  In fact, I am wearing the pendant. I also wear a scapular.

                                             LEVINE

Wait! You wear a scapula? Isn’t that a little large?

      PETERSON

 I wear a scapular because you wear it around your scapula and it ensures those who wear it will never die without having a priest administer the last rites. It is a ticket to heaven. Well, not directly because you still might be diverted to purgatory for a while but eventually you are admitted to heaven.

            LEVINE

And you believe all this hocus pocus? And how long does purgatory last when time no longer exists? Make no sense, DIRK.

           PETERSON

           (recitation)

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ his only Son, our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Spirit—

             LEVINE

–Stop! Just stop!

            PETERSON

–born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. On the third day—

              LEVINE

—Please?

           PETERSON

Okay, say have you ever thought of converting, you could use some religion. Some faith anyway.

    LEVINE

No thanks… but then again…can I see that Saint Michael thingy.

(Hands him a metal pendant, Saint Michael on one side and text on the other)

(Cont’d)

Keep him safe day and night, give him courage strength and might. What a load of crap!

        PETERSON

You’d be surprised how many of us wear it though. It is said to have saved an officers life too…. deflected a bullet—

      LEVINE

Now that, that is a load of—

          PETERSON

Well, maybe, but then again, who knows but I have faith and that’s what carries me through the day.

                                                    LEVINE

yeah you still never give up on un, she must keep you up at night, that thirteen year old uh Adriana uh

                                           PETERSON

—Wilson. That angel, she still haunts me. I still think it was the Arabber but now I guess we’ll never know. Can you imagine? Gets picked up on a drunk and disorderly and he hangs himself.

                                             LEVINE

Maybe he was haunted too and he finally—?

     PETERSON

So maybe he got what he deserved, saved the state a lot of money— still, we’ll never know. And that reporter at The Sun—that guy Epstein— one who made his rep on the Monroe Street murder, he still won’t let the Adrianna Wilson case go, still trying to keep it a Red Ball. So who knows, maybe it wasn’t the Arabber…

                                          LEVINE

Nah! I think the Ay-rab did it—

 PETERSON

Arabber! Ay-rab is considered racist, remember?

LEVINE

Okay yeah sorry I uh but what is this Red Ball stuff? Is this another Baltimore thing like dunkers….

PETERSON

You mean you New Yawkers don’t use that… I thought—

 LEVINE

—No, we say clusterfuck or shitstorm— but at least here you only have the Sun and the News-American and no tabloids… only three TV news stations and a mayor who is not unreasonable–

PETERSON

Yeah, Mayor Schaeffer plays it right down the middle, at any rate, Red Ball came from a railroad term—say, I heard from Metzbauer that they used to call you John the Machine Levine in New York but not for closing cases—

LEVINE

No, I wasn’t even a cop, I sold real estate—but we had a board too, I was leading the board for months, even almost won a Cadillac but I had a deal go South and wound up with a set of steak knives instead… then after that I hit a streak where I couldn’t close a door, eventually I quit before they fired me—

PETERSON

John the machine Levine… John the machine Levine…. has a nice ring to it…think I’ll start calling you that, maybe it’ll change your luck—

LEVINE

–or I could borrow your scapula er scapular

(telephone rings)

PETERSON

Speaking of luck. It’s your turn, buddy.

    LEVINE

Fuck me! (beat) Just fuck me!

(picks up phone and listens)

(Cont’d)

Oh my God. Fuck! This one does not sound good. They just found a naked dead guy handcuffed and tied to his bed at the Mount Vernon Inn. Let’s go.

                                             Scene 7  still sept 78

(Mount Vernon Inn hallway outside crime scene, murmuring, cameras    

.

                                            LEVINE

So what you’re saying is that you came by yesterday and you thought you heard murmuring and crying for help but you didn’t go in.

                                              MAID

No, mister, uh detective, I thought quizas por un momento, maybe I go in but then I think no, it’s okay…then I think maybe I tell el jefe but he was busy so then I go home. Today I come back and they find el hombre dead. Dios mio!   (blesses herself)

    PETERSON

So the murmuring, could you make out anything, anything at all.

.

                                             MAID

Well the radio, it was loud, I hear him coughing, then I think he started to say something but it make no sense to me what he say—

   LEVINE

So what did he say! What do you think he said?

                                                 MAID

Well I not sure because it make no sense but I, I uh—

   LEVINE

Yes?

PETERSON

 Yes, go on—

                                            MAID

Well, I think he say and my hearing not so good but yo pienso, I think he say…

                   LEVINE

Yes?

                                             MAID

Well, I think he say “rosebud” It make no sense but that is what I think he say “rosebud” Maybe mean something in Americano, I don’t know.

LEVINE

Oh my God, I don’t believe this!

PETERSON

And that’s all you heard?

                                   MAID (to LEVINE)

Do I say something wrong, senor?

(to PETERSON)

No that’s all I hear “rosebud”

 LEVINE

Jesus Christ

PETERSON (to LEVINE)

Get a grip, machine! The Lord has nothing to do with this!

                                                    (to MAID)

Okay, ma’am, well you may need to come in and make a statement and we might need a polygraph.

                                           MAID

A poly—

                                         LEVINE

A lie detector test—

                                              MAID

I no lie, senor?

PETERSON

No ma’am, we believe you. Nostrotros creemos que usted habla la verdad.

                                              MAID

Oh thank you, gracias senor gracias! Perdonome its okay? Tengo que salir. Can I go?

 LEVINE

Yes, I think we have what we need for now but don’t leave town.

                                              MAID

Gracias

 (exits)

PETERSON

So what now?

                                            LEVINE

So this guy was in bed tied up for two days…the day manager says he knows nothing…Hopefully we’ll get some prints but we need to talk to the bar people.

     PETERSON

Well, Kelly already interviewed the daytime bartender who couldn’t give us a thing…so we should talk to the people that were on Tuesday night—

                                               LEVINE

Yes, I already checked, they both come in at three—

     PETERSON

So let’s grab some lunch? Crabs?

                                                LEVINE

Sounds good! Connolly’s?

    PETERSON

Yes! Connolly’s it is

                                              Scene 8 sept 78

(SETTING: Connolly’s Seafood Restaurant, sounds of waves, foghorns in background)

                                             LEVINE

(to waitress)

Another National Premium and another Diet-Rite for my friend

 PETERSON

What regular Natty Boh not good enough for you?

LEVINE

Are you kidding? That monkey piss? I’d order a Ballantine Ale but they don’t carry it.

   PETERSON

You can take the boy out of New York City but you can’t—

                                             LEVINE

Enough already with that mantra.

  PETERSON

More like a meme!

                                            LEVINE

A meme? What’s a meme?

PETERSON

It refers to something that through repetition within a culture becomes familiar. It’s a word coined by Richard Dawkins—

LEVINE

I never knew or thought that guy was capable of anything more than kissing his contestants and making stupid quips! In fact, a lot like your stupid quips, Dirk.

PETERSON

Richard Dawkins, not Dawson!

LEVINE

Who is—oh never mind, I am sure it’s another guy you studied when you were majoring in philosophy at Holy Cross…I just wonder why you are wasting all that education doing this?

PETERSON

Well, this is what God meant for me to do, something your heathen butt would never understand. Anyway, it’s barely past two, let’s get some dessert. The apple pie is to die for. And a la mode, for sure.

LEVINE

Yes…the best in the city and I’ll get mine with ice cream.

(waitress brings drinks and picks up dishes)

PETERSON

So were about ready for some dessert but give my friend time to finish his beer. I’ll take the apple pie a la mode and, for my buddy, he’ll have the same (winks) only with ice cream. Vanilla, of course. So, John, you think this will be another Red Ball?

LEVINE

You’re kidding. A guy handcuffed and tied to his bed for two days, apparently dies of some slow acting poison, what do you think?

PETERSON (facetiously)

Well, you never know. It could turn out he died of natural causes.

LEVINE

Yeah right. I should be so lucky. But it still would be a homicide either way as being tied up would make the person culpable.

   PETERSON

You say “person” rather than woman. I am pretty sure it was a woman probably a working girl.

LEVINE

Well, you know that Leon’s is just down the street—you know the gay bar? Not to mention The Hippo—

PETERSON

Well yeah but—

LEVINE

And the handcuffs, you know a lot of those guys are into that, that—

PETERSON

S and M?

                                          LEVINE

You know about that shit, Dirk? I am surprised. Did they have a course in kinky fetishes at Holy–

PETERSON

==You’d be surprised at what I learned at Holy Cross and I have been working homicide for seven years now…run into all kinds of kinky shenanigans in this town…I guess you didn’t hear or forgot I solved the Park Avenue Hustler case—the guy who picked up johns outside of Leon’s and murdered them. I can walk into any gay bar in this city and it’s drinks on the house for me and my party. I don’t need to watch John Waters blasphemous movies to find out about that stuff.

                                             LEVINE

Reminds me I need to make phone call

(slow fade to black, then lights up)

                                              LEVINE

(in phone booth)

Hey babes, look I am going to late again. I am sorry. I know you’re fixing lasagna…my favorite… but—

(Indistinguishable deep voice is heard through phone)

Look, hon, I am really sorry but I think it’s going to be another Red Ball

(PETERSON walks by on way to bathroom, glances at LEVINE who hunches over guardedly)

Look, look, I gotta go…yeah maybe nine or ten, I don’t know…okay I’ll try to call later…say, what do you know about sado-ma—oh never mind, we’ll talk tonight or in the morning if I’m late.

(blackout, lights up, LEVINE and PETERSON are back at table)

PETERSON

So who was that?

LEVINE

Oh uh, my uh neighbor. I uh asked her if she could feed my cat.

PETERSON

I didn’t know you had a cat—

LEVINE

I didn’t either. (beat) Man, this is the best, this ice cream it must be Breyers?

PETERSON

Breyers? Is that some New York brand? No, it’s Hendler’s, the best. 

LEVINE

And these pies?

PETERSON

Exclusive to Connolly’s. Some woman, Mildred Pierce I think her name is, bakes all their pies.  Anyway, look we better finish up—Oh doggone it, I almost forgot, I am supposed to see the chief at four, can you handle this bartender interview yourself?

                                LEVINE

Sure

                                                Scene 9 sept 78

(SETTING: Mount Vernon Inn, LEVINE sits at bar, he is the only one at the bar: Radio: The Birds are on the verge of elimination from the 1978 postseason as they dropped another on at the Stadium last night…)

DANNY (bartender #2) ((turns off radio)

I still can’t believe any of this. I can’t believe this happened here, for sure. Guy tied up for almost two days, I hear.  I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it could happen here. I mean this is a class joint. F. Scott Fitzgerald drank here and Mencken. And oh, that other guy, the guy that wrote The Jungle?

LEVINE

The Jungle?

DANNY

Oh, let me look it up on my phone—

    LEVINE

Your phone? You can’t look it up on your phone. This is 1978!

DANNY

Oh, yes that’s right. Oh, wait, it was Sinclair Lewis, er no, Upton Sinclair, yes Upton—

                                               LEVINE

So… we just need to get down to business.

DANNY

Yes, sure.

                                                LEVINE

So, the victim came in at around 8pm you say?

DANNY

Yes, more or less.   I remember it was slow that night and he just nursed his drink…a Schlitz if I recall but definitely beer until—

   LEVINE

Yes?

DANNY

Well, he nursed this one beer for like an hour and a half. I was at the other end of the bar  talking with one of the regulars, I hadn’t even noticed her…anyway, he calls to me…calls to me by name which is weird because I don’t remember telling him my name, anyway, he says, “Hey Danny, the lady and I over here are dry!” So yes so like now he is sitting with this very tall and attractive blonde, very well dressed, a black low cut dress and black leather knee high boots with stiletto heels that I noticed later, not heavily made up, just very pretty without all the mascara a lot of the girls wear, you know the ones who try to look like Liz Taylor, so anyway, he orders a 7 and 7 for himself and a vodka martini for the lady, who insisted on Stoli which I thought was a little weird.

LEVINE

Age?

  DANNY

I’d say late twenties, 27 maybe.

                                                LEVINE

If you had to guess. Do you think they knew each other?

                                           DANNY

Well, they seem to be having such a good time, lots of animated conversation, I gave them a lot of space so I didn’t overhear anything…except I heard them mention leather a couple of times…so they seemed to be two people who just met and just hit it off right off the bat or maybe old friends who had not seen each other…they sure seemed to have a lot to talk about.

(Bartender looking toward end of bar) 

I’ll be there in just a second, gentlemen…So yes, they were really enjoying each other’s company, excuse me for just a second….

                                              LEVINE

Okay relax, take care of your customers

                                       DANNY

Well it’s happy hour so we are going to get busy.

                                                LEVINE

So they are having a good time, chatting, and then?

                                         DANNY

Well, after about three rounds, they start getting cozy, if you know what I mean, not kissing or anything just real close to one another…then around 10:30 it got really busy and I look up and they are gone. I go to pick up the glasses and there’s a Benjamin under the guy’s glass. A real blessing because I barely made my rent this month.  Look it is really getting busy so—

      LEVINE

Well, I think I got what I need for now but I need to get your contact information and I am going to ask you come down to the station to do an artist’s rendering.

DANNY

Oh cool! I feel like I am on Columbo! Can I come in tomorrow, I’m off.

                                            Scene 10 still sept/oct 1978

(SETTING: Baltimore Police Department Fells Point homicide office, LEVINE reads the The Sun)

LEVINE 

Well it looks like your Birdies are truly toast. In fourth place, TWELVE AND A HALF behind my Bronx Bombers…on the other hand, they might have an outside shot at a wild card.

PETERSON

Wild card? Isn’t that football?

LEVINE

Oh right yeah, what was I thinking.

PETERSON

I guess you missed the front page then?

LEVINE

Yeah, I only got the sports…and the classified.

PETERSON

Well, you’ll need to have a look at the front page. The muckraking SOB at The Sun did an expose on our M.E. that you wouldn’t believe. And specifically mentioned your Red Ball and that six weeks in, you still don’t have toxicology reports. He also questions that our stellar forensic department didn’t pull any helpful fingerprints out of your crime scene. And that reminds me they did find some blood, a small amount on the sheets and it doesn’t match the victim so–

PETERSON

So we need to preserve that, remember it could be used later as DNA evidence…oh by the way, whatever happened about the bartender?

 LEVINE

He was really helpful at first, gave me a really detailed account but it turns out a lot of the description was false, we know because Zuverink talked to the manager who relieved him for a few minutes…the woman was a brunette not a not a blonde and the manager said  it looked like a wig…he said he was really excited about coming in to do the artist rendering then vanishes…this flake was also light in his loafers

PETERSON

He wore loafers?

                                         LEVINE

No actually he wore wingtips if I recall, DIRK, this is no time to play!

PETERSON

Anyway, so this guy just disappeared off the face of the earth?

                                           LEVINE

Yeah they got s search warrant for his apartments, nothing…no usable prints. Luminol came up with nothing.  The strange thing is why this guy just up and disappears. It makes no sense. 

        PETERSON

Well, maybe the toxicology will show you something. At this point, we should go back and talk to all the neighbors we can find that knew this guy as well as all the hotel employees. That’s all you’ve got.… Until of course, the bondage murder mistress strikes again. As our friend at The Sun thinks she will.

                                          LEVINE

Ha! Imagine that guy labeling the perp the Bondage Murder Mistress when were not even sure that it’s a woman… Well… Everything, of course, points to a female but there sure ain’t no way to tell yet.

    PETERSON

in the meantime, I have my own cases to close. Nothing even close to a Red Ball thank God but who knows what tomorrow will bring.

LEVINE

Indeed!

(blackout)

                                            Scene 11

Audio (SETTING: Baltimore Police Department Fells Point office)

LEVINE

So I just got the toxicology back on

Well they found alcohol and cannabis, not surprising, but also ricin….the cause of death is listed as ricin poisoning.

PETERSON

I am afraid he is my friend. I am afraid he is.

(blackout, lights up)

(LEVINE sits at desk head down reading a newspaper, PETERSON walks in carrying two Dunkin’ Donuts coffees and newspapers)

PETERSON (putting coffee down on LEVINE’s desk)

Here you go, my friend, I thought I’d try to bring you some luck!

          LEVINE

I am going to need it. Our friend at The Sun has this on the front page. The good news is that he has backed off calling it The Bondage Mistress murders. The bad news is that he is calling it an international incident, he’s now calling  it The Ricin Murders and speculating that our perp might have ties to the IRA! Of course, this clown has no real evidence except that a neighbor said that he might have traveled back and forth to Ireland a couple of times.

PETERSON

Well my friend, I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news…even worse news, I am afraid.

(hands him newspapers)

LEVINE

Oh my fucking God. Jesus Christ!

PETERSON

I know it’s bad DIRK but please don’t put it on God!

                                             LEVINE

The NEW YORK TIMES! AND THE WASHINGTON POST! And on the front page? Just shoot me. Just fucking shoot me!

PETERSON

Well maybe there’s a bright side DIRK, if this is an international incident, if there’s espionage or I would venture to say maybe some kind of weapons exchange, which I would say is far more likely considering the IRA angle, we will be able to hand this all off to the Feds, the FBI, the ATF…

LEVINE

Damn DIRK, yeah that makes sense, thanks but it’s all just speculation at this point and this guy was an aluminum siding salesman, a tin man! Not an arms dealer!

PETERSON

Well, the job could be just a cover. But we could find that out very easily. Let’s go talk to his employer.

                                              Scene 12  

(SETTING: Baltimore Police Department, Fells Point parking lot, PETERSON, keys in hand, and LEVINE approach car)

                                             LEVINE

Okay if I drive, DIRK?

   PETERSON

No!

                                            LEVINE

Why not?

PETERSON

Because you you’re a lousy driver and besides you should review your notes while they’re fresh.

LEVINE

Well okay, guess you’re right

 (gets into car)

PETERSON

So what do you think?

LEVINE

I think it is pretty clear the guy was just a siding salesman and not a gun runner for the IRA

PETERSON

In fact, he was one of their top closers, right?

                                           LEVINE

Yeah and supposedly the guy put in fifty sixty hours a week, working nights, weekends and the trips to Ireland, he visited his sick mother who they say passed away in June.

PETERSON

We should confirm that—

                                           LEVINE

Yes, but I think it is pretty clear the guy was just a tin man.

PETERSON

Those guys are quite insane, a buddy I knew at Poly became a tin man. What a character. He used to tell me about all the tricks they used to pull trying to fish customers like saying their home would be featured on the cover of Life Magazine. Crazy stuff but really funny.

                                          LEVINE

Yeah funny stuff but not so funny now because the state is cracking down on them big league.

PETERSON

Bigly. Big-ly?

LEVINE

Big league, you know like big time.  I guess it’s a New York saying.

PETERSON

Speak Baltimorese otherwise, people will not understand you down here.

LEVINE

Okay, hon. (beat) Anyway, our buddy from The Sun, Epstein is writing an expose on our tin men. 

PETERSON

Great maybe he will stay off our case!

                                         LEVINE

Anyway those guys we met today. Real characters! Somebody should make a movie about them.

PETERSON

Yeah.

(blackout)

                                            Scene13 still  September/oct 1978

(SETTING: Baltimore Police Department homicide office, LEVINE reading The Sun)

LEVINE (reading newspaper)

My Yankees finally wrapped up the Division last night. We are going to back to back just like the glory days!

PETERSON

It’s been awhile since you guys repeated, what was it? 61, 62?

LEVINE

Yeah sixteen years ago, 1962, I was sixteen and was just getting over the heartbreak of the Bums moving to Brooklyn and becoming a Yankees fan.

PETERSON

You were never a Mets fan, I hope!

LEVINE

No…. Yankee fans hate the Mets, just like they hated Brooklyn and the Giants.

  PETERSON

I am still trying to get over 1969! The amazing Mets, then the Jets beat the Colts, one of the worst years of my life, sports-wise anyway, but I did meet my beautiful wife in ’69. Our first date was the first game of the 69 series. The one game the Orioles won.

(KATE HANFORD enters carrying a Dunkin Donuts coffee)

                                         KATE HANFORD

Hey I just heard on the radio that the FBI completed their check on your Tin Man turns out he was just an aluminum siding salesman. Poor guy, left five kids and a mountain of debt.

            LEVINE

Wait! They release that to the media and don’t bother telling us first?

                                                Scene 15 back to fells point inn????

(SETTING: Fells Point Hotel Bar, Rolling Stones “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” plays on jukebox)

KENNERLY

I, I thought we were uh, uh, uh…getting to, to know each other? (note that some of the dialogue is repeated to clarify time shift)

MYSTERY WOMAN

Yes, perhaps, until you called me a —

KENNERLY

I didn’t call you noth— uh anything. And I am truly sorry Hey come sit next to me. (beat) Oh, hey, listen (leans and whispers) I got some ludes—

MYSTERY WOMAN

Are you sure you are not a drug dealer? 

KENNERLY

No, no c’mon Tiffy baby, don’t start with that again.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Tiffany! Not Tiffy baby. My Lord, fella, this is 1979 and we already into the Second Wave of Feminism–

KENNERLY

–Second wave of… what I didn’t even know we had a first wave—

MYSTERY WOMAN                                                                                                                                                                                Lucretia Mott? Elizabeth Cady Stanton Seneca–

KENNERLY                                                                                                                                      –Sorry, miss…. I am such an ignorant schmuck (beat) so Tiffany, dear, I got some ludes and some killer sensemilla— so you DO get high, right?

(she moves closer to him)

MYSTERY WOMAN

Well, let’s say I like to take the edge off. I am a little high strung…at times—but are you sure you don’t deal drugs? Then what do you do, Mister Kennerly.

                                               KENNERLY

I deal software. Well, I deal in software.

                                         MYSTERY WOMAN

So you deal coke? Pun intended! You are a soft drink peddler?

KENNERLY

First of all, I am NOT a peddler of anything. I deal in software. Computer software. Proprietary systems. I set up financial institutions with computer software to help them track nearly everything they need to track. I am close to closing a deal with Maryland National Bank.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Surprising.

KENNERLY

What’s surprising?

MYSTERY WOMAN

That a gentleman in that field would have a wallet full of cash instead of a wallet full of credit cards.

KENNERLY

Like the shoemaker whose kids are shoeless, I don’t really believe in credit cards. I have one, an American Express. Anyway, I hope I can close this deal before Friday because I have even bigger fish to fry next week with Lincoln Financial in Philly then down to Miami to meet with Amerifirst. 

MYSTERY WOMAN

I’d love to go to Miami but not this time of year.

KENNERLY

Did that sound like an invitation?

MYSTERY WOMAN

No just saying… but for all these big deals you are the verge of closing, you don’t look well-heeled. I mean we’re talking Men’s Warehouse not Brook’s Brothers.

KENNERLY

Well, I uh, the problem is that this software is so revolutionary that most of the asshole decision-makers I deal with don’t understand its benefits. We are just a start up and I’m in on the ground floor but if we succeed and I stick, we are talking millions. And the way we are marketing this is that we’re practically giving it away on the contingency that once the bank starts seeing the savings and I am talking thousands of dollars in labor that we’ll save ‘em. We renew the deal ninety days from now at the full rate and the company and I both make money. Lots of money.

MYSTERY WOMAN

So for now, you are just a guy in cheap suits who has to stay in second rate motels and–

KENNERLY

Well, this place ain’t the Taj Mahal but—

MYSTERY WOMAN

But it ain’t the Hilton either.

KENNERLY

Well, it ain’t Motel 6 either. I have a suite, really nice wet-bar and I hear they have a hot tub in the Honeymoon Suite.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Too bad you don’t have the Honeymoon Suite. I could go for some ludes and a Hot Tub.

KENNERLY

Mark, could you bring me the phone?

MYSTERY WOMAN

So you are going to try to book the Honeymoon Suite, well, Jim, I was only… I mean, uh, I—

KENNERLY

Oh hon, don’t try to back out now. Don’t play with me now!

 (MARK brings the phone. KENNERLY picks it up and dials “0’ as Bee Gees “More Than a Woman” begins playing)

(Cont’d)

Say, Steve is it? This is Jim Kennerly in 316, say Steve is the—

MYSTERY WOMAN

Oh I can’t believe what I am getting myself into. Mark, get me one more and put it on Jim’s tab.

                                                 KENNERLY

So yes just for the one night. Okay twenty minutes then, can you just let Mark know when its ready then? Yes, put it on my AmEx. Okay. Thanks Steve.

MYSTERY WOMAN

Oh my God! What have I done? Well, maybe you are a good closer, after all.

                                                                      (slow blackout as “More Than a Woman” plays)

(As the Eagles “One of These Nights begins playing, MYSTERY WOMAN holds martini just an inch away from her lips, KENNERLY leans towards it and MYSTERY WOMAN pulls the glass away. KENNERLY reaches up her skirt but MYSTERY WOMAN guides his hand away. The two continue kissing as lights and music slowly fade.)

                                                     Scene 16 October 1979

SETTING: Baltimore Police Department Fells Point Homicide Divison. LEVINE and PETERSON sit at desks. KATE HANFORD enters carrying Dunkin Donuts bag. TV/RADIO The Orioles are still licking their wounds after dropping losing the 1979 series to the Pirates…)

                                           KATE HANFORD    

Not a big baseball fan but I thought the Birds would take the seventh game especially after the way they took that sixth game

                                            PETERSON

Yeah what irks me though is that they had to play by National League rules, No designated hitter–

                                                LEVINE

And Pittsburgh again… lot of people still talk about 1971  and Boog Powell not cutting the ball  off on and letting the winning runs core in Game 7but at least he has his BBQ concession at Camden yards to fall back on…   

                                            KATE HANFORD

Camden Yards? BBQ?                                                                                                                                     

                                                 LEVINE

Oh never mind (phone rings)

Homicide….oh good morning, chief? Oh shit, no! Okay, where now?   Okay. (long pause)  Hmmm…Okay…Yes, well… Yes…hmm, well that sounds promising at least. Yeah, I’ll get everyone on it except for Cassidy and Wittlesburger who are  the other pending Red Ball—the Boy’s Latin case… yeah, the lacrosse player who collapsed, okay but I’ll get everyone else on it. Okay, guys and Kate, all hands on deck, my Bondage Mistress has struck again.

                                                PETERSON

Where this time?

                                                    LEVINE

This one at the Fells Point Hotel. Same deal. Tied up and handcuffed. Only this time chief says the bartender can give us a really good make on this broad.

                                                PETERSON

Maybe this is your big break

                                                      LEVINE

Hope so. G wants everyone on it and he wants both Kate and I to interview the bartender.

                                               KATE HANFORD

All right, let’s go. Here John take this for some luck.

                                                                                      (hands him a coffee and a donut) 

Scene 17

The  Fells Point Hotel Bar

                                                        MARK

So it was slow that night, Tuesdays usually are.  So this guy, he had come in a couple times since he checked in Sunday night, some kind of traveling salesman (beat)  such a shame, seemed like a really nice guy, anyway around 8:30, this broad comes in, sits next to him— so naturally the guy starts trying to put the make on her, but she’s like really standoffish and sarcastic even. This broad—not your normal B-girl by any means and certainly no Saturday night hon—very sophisticated, well-dressed…I overheard her say she’s a hometown gal but no Baltimore accent, in fact, she had that accent like in the movies…you know that high-class…oh what’s the word, aristocratic accent, that’s it…a lot like what’s her name, the one with Spencer Tracy? Right yeah, Katherine Hepburn…yes a real sophisticated lady. Anyway, for like an hour…she is giving this guy a really hard way to go…. calling him a drug dealer because he pulls out a wad of bills…then all of the sudden the guy is asking to transfer to the Honeymoon Suite because the chick wants a hot tub. But we only had The Presidential Suite so—

                                             KATE HANFORD

So  you said 5’10” maybe 5’11”? How could you tell? Was she wearing heels?

                                                MARK

Yes. But I factored that in.  I noticed when she got up she wore these black leather boots with 3” stiletto heels. I’m 6’1” and she was exactly my height.

                                                   KATE HANFORD

Oh good, great…any distinguishing marks…moles.

MARK

Well, she had a mole on her cheek, her right cheek but I am pretty sure that was make-up…pencil I guess… Really nice figure, nice sized ah well you know uh chest?

KATE HANFORD

Nice big tits, eh?

BARTENDER #3

Yes. (pause) Nice legs too, a beautiful statuesque br— er woman. Only thing is, besides being really tall, she had kind of broad shoulders yet she was quite stunning…seemed like a really powerful woman not the kind I could handle but then again, I’m (beat) well, uh…  anyway, yes she was striking and like I said brunette, medium length, not curly but not really straight either and I am quite sure it was natural, not a wig…I used to work at a bar where we got a lot of queens so I know wigs when I see ‘em….and like I said, high cheekbones, nice full lips, high eyebrows and natural, not penciled in…. beautiful long eyelashes, nicely painted and definitely not fake…yeah I think I can give you a nice rendering…

                                                    LEVINE

So, you can come down tomorrow and do the artist rendering?

BARTENDER #3

Sure, detective, no problem.

LEVINE

And you promise won’t disappear.

BARTENDER #3

I uh what?

KATE

The last time he had a bartender coming in to do make on this woman, the guy disappeared—

BARTENDER #3

Well, I uh know uh why should I uh—

LEVINE

Well, come to think of it. Can you just come down now? I mean well we are right down the street.

BARTENDER #3

Well I yes sure as long as I can get someone to cover…yes sure.

LEVINE

Okay ask for the chief Captain Giordano

Transcribed from excised text

KATE HANFORD

So what do you think, John?

           LEVINE

Looks like the same MO. Married businessman from out of town, hooks up with our mystery woman and winds up being found tied up and dead in his bed two days later…we have to wait on the toxicology but I did some research on this ricin…which is extracted from the Castor Bean, in fact there have been children who were poisoned just handling these beans but anyway once its synthesized, it takes a very small amount of it to kill someone and death only occurs 24 to 36 hours or even longer after ingestion. And the FBI lab people tell me that synthesizing the poison is not something that the typical person could do…that it would take a great deal of expertise…it would take someone with a background in chemistry and access to a laboratory. So, on one hand we are thinking this woman is a professional…an escort….then on the other hand, a professional of another type, a chemistry professor or someone who might be working for Dow Chemicals or some place like that…maybe we could…Kate, are their employers that we might look for to—

KATE HANFORD

Oh my God, John. From Aberdeen Proving Grounds to Fort Meade, the NSA, not to mention possible employers closer to DC, and in DC itself, there are hundreds of possibilities, talk about a needle in a haystack—

            LEVINE

Yeah, I’m grasping at straws here… it will probably be a big nothing burger!

KATE

A nothing bur—

(PETERSON enters)

         PETERSON

–Hey Kate…LEVINE—

                                                     LEVINE

So you got anything?

            PETERSON

Not a lot. Nothing from the either of the managers. Not a thing. But I did get something from one of the maids. She said the Do Not Disturb sign was on the door all three mornings she came by. Early in the afternoon on Tuesday, the second day, she caught a glimpse of a woman leaving.  Redhead, tall, well-dressed, didn’t see her face…she came by on Tuesday morning, day three…knocked several times, never any answer. Finally, she glimpsed in and found the dead guy.

       LEVINE

And nothing on the hotel security camera?

           KATE

Hotel security camera? John, this is 1979.

                  LEVINE

Oh right! Damn, I forgot…so anything else from the maid?

                 PETERSON

Well, only what we already know, guy dead, naked, tied and handcuffed to his bed. (beat) But forensics has apparently found some interesting stuff…a small amount of blood, hair of two different types and a lot of what appears to be dried semen, a bunch of it in different places. Of course, until we can apply the Watson and Crick research that won’t do us much good—

                LEVINE?

Watson? Sherlock Holmes?

                PETERSON

No Machine, Watson and Crick, they discovered deoxyribonucleic acid, DNA, and I just read a paper that there may be some new method of human genomic testing that could turn out to be a sort of a unique, um what they are calling a DNA fingerprint, from blood, from semen, from hair maybe, even saliva…so the most important thing is that we preserve the evidence because this new technology could be just around the corner…just years away.

KATE

So I guess you two rocket scientists never heard of Rosalind Franklin? 

PETERSON

Who?

KATE

Rosalind Franklin the woman who originally discovered DNA.

PETERSON

No it was Watson and Crick, everyone knows that!

KATE

Oh wait yeah uh yeah let me check my phone (fumbles around in purse) ….I well, anyway no,  guess you are right, we are still in 1979, sorry

PETERSON

Check your phone? Are you okay Kate? Sounds like you may have caught the machine’s affliction!

KATE

Yeah weird how this keeps happening…

LEVINE

So all this DNA stuff sounds promising but by they better find this breakthrough fast otherwise  I’ll probably be back walking the beat in Highlandtown.

        PETERSON

Well I wouldn’t give up hope quite yet. They also lifted a bunch of prints so…

  DANNY

(Brings LEVINE the house phone)

Oh, Officer LEVINE, you got a call here… he said it is really important

                                         LEVINE

Okay thanks but it’s  Detective Levine. ( speaking softly) ) What are you doing calling me here…(To PETERSON  and KATE HANFORD) excuse me guys this is personal….(KATE HANFORD and PETERSON move stage right and start talking among themselves)  so yeah I know we have tickets to “Mousetrap” tonight….I don’t think we’ll have time for dinner though….we may just have to meet at the theater…yeah I can make it by 7:30…right…at the box office, the tickets are at will call, right? Okay, listen you really need to be more discreet….okay…I know…but I could lose my job….then what would we do? Okay then 7:30 at the Lyric….if I can get out earlier I’ll call you…otherwise…okay…(KATE HANFORD and PETERSON walk back over to the bar near LEVINE) okay, look okay I really need to go….bye)

                                              KATE HANFORD

Who was that? Sounded intense.

                                              LEVINE

Oh no not really. It was my cat sitter, she was worried because Sylvester refuses his cat food and she thinks he might be sick.

                                           KATE HANFORD

I didn’t know you were a cat lover, John.

                                                 LEVINE

I’m not.

                                               PETERSON

So listen up, the manager says he has a couple other people we can speak to, doesn’t think they have anything but says we should talk to them

                                                   LEVINE

Who exactly?

                                                 PETERSON

A couple maids and a guest.

                                                 LEVINE

Okay, let’s go, maybe Kate can work some magic

(blackout)

Scene

Radio “A Baltimore police spokesman said at a press conference yesterday that they have received no leads yet after releasing a sketch of a possible suspect in the murder that occurred last week at the Fells Point Hotel. The suspect, the so-called Bondage Murder Murderess, is described as being…”

(KATE HANFORD enters)

KATE HANFORD

Hey John.  G just handed me this certified letter for you.

LEVINE

Certified? Delivered here?  Uh, okay thanks.

(Opens letters and starts to read it then folds it up and puts it back in the envelope)

LEVINE

Hey Kate, can you cover for me, I need to get a quick bite.

KATE

Well, DIRK was thinking of getting some crabs at Bo Brooks as soon as Tim gets back and he is buying!

LEVINE

Sounds good but I need to runs some errands so…I think I’ll just grab something at the White Coffee Pot.

KATE

You’re passing up crabs at Bo Brooks for that greasy spoon?

LEVINE

Yeah, Kate, tell DIRK thanks though.

Scene  White Coffe Pot restaurant phone booth)

LEVINE

Oh my God, Christopher…you aren’t going to believe this. (pause) I just received a uh registered letter from the Bondage Murder Mistress. (pause) Well, yes I opened it. (pause) No I wasn’t wearing gloves. (pause) Oh you are right, I didn’t even think of that, oh shit well, if I die in the next couple days then you’ll know…no, I am not going to the hospital…well…okay I will if I start feeling queasy (pause)  but no I can’t turn it over….let me  read it to you…verbatim…are you sitting down? (pause) Okay here goes. “Dear sniveling little faggot flatfoot…” (pause) Look just hold on and let me read it verbatim, okay?  “First, you will never find me or find out who I am, you donut-munching queer.  I don’t leave clues and that sketch of me that your bartender helped you create will never lead to me being found. I can change my appearance at the drop of a hat. On the other hand, if I ever do screw up and you find me, your dirty little secret will be known to the world and you will be fired, my feckless flatfooted fruitcake friend.  Finally, rest assured that there is nothing contained in this correspondence that can help you find me so you don’t need to be conflicted over whether or not you should turn this over to your forensics team of incompetents. Signed, The Bondage Murder Mistress” Okay that’s it. (long pause) No I am not going to turn it in. I’ll be fired. Yes, Chris, yes I see what you mean…yes okay, we’ll talk about it over dinner…at home of course, yeah, your lasagna would be nice and I’ll pick up some Mateus Rose and your Tia Maria for afterwards okay then.

Scene

(SETTING: LEVINE and CHRISTOPHER’s apartment, finishing dinner. . Al Greene’s Let’s Stay Together plays).

CHRISTOPHER

How do you know they’ll fire you, hon? This is 1979, in another few months, it’ll be new decade. Things are changing. I read that out in San Francisco a school teacher is filing a six million dollar lawsuit because she was fired for being a lesbian. I mean yeah, Anita Bryant may be alive and well… but this is Baltimore not Miami. We got a liberal mayor now. Spiro Agnew should be behind bars and that other crook Marvin Mandel is dead. The very neighborhood you used to walk the beat in is now represented by one of the most liberal women or— person for that matter—in Congress. Things are changing and the last thing the department needs is bad publicity. And, besides, you can just deny everything. I’ll even move out if I have to.

LEVINE

No, no, no hon…I love you and can’t live withoutcha, babes. 

CHRISTOPHER

Oh that is so sweet but listen…worst case, we have money saved, we could get by until I graduate and pass the bar. We would not be on easy street…we’d just have to cut back…but we could make it. And another thing. If you don’t turn in that letter. Or if you destroy it. You could be charged with obstruction of justice and I wouldn’t be able to defend you. Not yet anyway.

LEVINE

Yes… well if they don’t fire me. Still…. Everyone would know what I am.

CHRISTOPHER

Stop it with the self-loathing crap, John. Can’t you see? Trying to stay in the closet is killing you? You just can’t go on living like this! We can’t go on living like this. Haven’t you heard about Gay Pride? Stonewall?  A new day is dawning.

LEVINE

Sorry, I can’t do it. I’m not ready.

CHRISTOPHER

Well, you have no choice. What if they find a print on that letter, John? You will be a hero. And haven’t you considered that the department will keep a lid on this. No way they’ll reveal that they got this letter. Not at least until you track down this killer. Which I know you will. But again, worst case. You get fired. We sue. You can work as a PD or in security. Then when I graduate, we’ll move out West and start a new life. But they won’t fire you, John.

LEVINE

I guess you are right, Chrissie.  (beat) Are my feet really flat?

CHRISTOPHER

Ha, no hon. In the meantime, get some gloves and seal that letter in a plastic bag.

Scene

(SETTING: Baltimore Police Department Fells Point Homicide Division office, LEVINE and KATE HANFORD alone at desks)

LEVINE

Well, no prints on the letter. Nothing. The letter was mailed, get this! From the Fells Point Post Office!   This woman is challenging, almost mocking me. We are getting an FBI profiler to look into the content of the letter to develop some kind of psychological make-up.

KATE HANFORD

So what’s with her calling you a flatfooted faggot…I wonder what that is all about?

LEVINE

Well, the FBI is trying to figure that out. She obviously just made it up but then again Kate—

KATE HANFORD

Yes?

LEVINE

Well, Kate I–

KATE HANFORD

Yes?

LEVINE

Well, there is no way she would have any way of knowing it but—

KATE

John, just go on, I’m your friend—

LEVINE

Well, the fact is that she was right. I am gay… but I don’t have flat feet. That’s not true. (beat) I have a boyfriend. He, Christopher, has been living with me for six months…and I’ve kept it secret. Its killing me, Kate it has been absolutely kill—

KATE HANFORD

–Oh so the phone calls. The cat sitter? Now it all makes sense.

LEVINE

Yes, ha. I don’t even have a cat except for Chris, he is a pretty cool cat. You know, I am really proud of him. In six months, he’ll have a law degree…wants to be a public defender though…don’t know how that’ll work—

KATE HANFORD

Well, it’ll all work out I’m sure…so when do I get to meet your sweetheart?

LEVINE

Soon and you know what else, he is so handsome, so smart and he can cook too!

KATE HANFORD

So John?

LEVINE

Yes?

KATE HANFORD

I’ve got a secret, too. (beat) I’m gay. I have a girlfriend. (beat) But…we don’t live together…yet.

LEVINE

Well, I always sort of…well, I kind of thought—

KATE HANFORD

Why? You think I’m a little butch, huh?

LEVINE

Well, no, they uh say that it takes one to know one. So, your girlfriend? Is she out?

KATE HANFORD

Yes, totally.

LEVINE

And I suppose she wants you to come out too.

KATE HANFORD

Of course.

LEVINE

Well, same with Christopher….we should have dinner and talk about it.

KATE HANFORD

Sounds good.

LEVINE

Say Kate?

KATE HANFORD

Yes?

LEVINE

Maybe we should both come out…together.

KATE HANFORD

Hmm….that’s an idea. They would have to fire the both of us.

LEVINE

Yes,  they would. (beat) They sure would.

(PETERSON enters)

Well, it looks like you too are really bonding! Working cases together will do that.

KATE HANFORD

Sure will.

LEVINE

Yes.

PETERSON

I had to laugh, John. The chief got a laugh about our psycho bondage woman calling you a flatfooted faggot. Imagine…John LEVINE gay! What self-respecting gay could ever even be seen in public with a man with a face like yours.

LEVINE

Ha, yeah DIRK and I don’t have flat-feet either.

PETERSON

So anyway fellas, I gotta run. Chief wants me on this other Red Ball.

KATE

Oh the Boy’s Latin case…the lacrosse player?

PETERSON

Yes, looks like it might be a homicide after all—

LEVINE

All right then

KATE

See ya, DIRK

(DIRK exits)

(Cont’d)

So John?

LEVINE

Yes?

KATE

So, nothing on the letter. We know that. Expect we do have the content. All along you have been assuming that it came from the murderer—

LEVINE

Well no, of course, it could have just been written by some whacko—

KATE

Or…and this is just intuition—

LEVINE

There you go again with your damn feminine intuition…but yes go on, I have to admit your intuition has served you well.

KATE

Well, remember your mystery bartender…the one who disappeared….the one who was 5’10”?  Well…I think it came from him.

LEVINE

Why?

KATE

Just intuition but—

LEVINE

But he can’t be involved, he is a man!

KATE

Yes, but maybe he is a female impersonator—

LEVINE

Naw…we got a clear make that the Bondage Murder Mistress is indeed a mistress. (long pause) But then again….Kate, did you see Pink Flamingoes?

KATE

Uh yeah sure—

LEVINE

Well, yes that woman in the park…no one would have ever known. (beat) But the last we heard the guy skipped town.

KATE

Well, maybe the guy skipped town. Or maybe—  maybe the guy is right her in Baltimore…he could be right here right under our nose…maybe even living as a woman

LEVINE

Oh yeah just like that guy Robert Durst!

KATE

Robert Durst?

LEVINE

Yeah you know the guy who confessed on that documentary on HBO?

KATE

HBO?

LEVINE

HBO! Home Box Office!

KATE

Home—

LEVINE

Oh right! Never mind. I keep forgetting that this is still 1979.

KATE

John, are you feeling okay?

LEVINE

Well…I have been under a lot of stress—

KATE

Sometimes I really worry about you, John. Anyway, we should go back out and re-interview this guy’s neighbors…I should interview some of the guy’s neighbors.

LEVINE

Excellent idea, Kate, let’s go.

(black out then lights up)

(PETERSON enters)

PETERSON

So I hear you fellas got a new lead?

KATE

DIRK, would you stop calling us fellas!

PETERSON

Oh, sorry Kate, I—

KATE

Apology accepted. So anyway yeah, I talked to this guy’s neighbors—you know the bartender who disappeared—well, she explained that the walls were so thin that when he had company you could hear every word but at least a couple of times when it was obvious he was alone, she would notice a woman leaving the apartment, she never got a good look at her but could only describe her as being tall and once the neighbor said she was a blonde and another time a redhead. 

LEVINE

Another guy said he saw a tall redhead leaving the apartment early in the morning which he said struck him as odd because he thought the guy was gay.

PETERSON

Like I told you when you first mentioned the bartender, mister machine Levine,  the mystery bartender is your prime suspect.

LEVINE

Sure looks like it!

KATE

So, guys, we got to make sure that this information is kept under wraps. Can’t let Epstein get a hold of it. Wait no! Just the opposite, let’s get an artist rendering… one as a male… then we could have our artist do another as a woman…what the guy might look like as a woman. Then ask for the public’s help.

LEVINE

Brilliant!

PETERSON

Yes, great idea, Detective Hanford!

KATE

One other thing though. We should get another artist, other than our own Bernard who did our Mystery Woman sketch, to do it…. just to make sure that images of the mystery woman doesn’t subconsciously transfer to the new sketch.

PETERSON

Kate, you are indeed brilliant. So, let’s get Williams over at the Park Circle precinct. He’s excellent!

KATE

Yes, he’s good, great!

LEVINE

Agreed. I’ll give him a call.

(blackout)

(LEVINE, PETERSON and KATE HANFORD are huddled together looking at two artist sketches)

KATE

Well, I don’t know.

PETERSON

They do look similar yet—

LEVINE

Remember that Williams’ rendering is more artistic than scientific in that he created a woman from the male description. I do think there is some similarity though.

PETERSON

Just too bad none of the neighbors got a good look at this uh, woman.

KATE

Anyway, guys, it doesn’t really matter at this point because we have nothing on either one of them. (beat) So the new sketches are already out to the press?

LEVINE

Yeah. WJZ broke into “The Edge of Night” just an hour ago and is hyping it big league for the five o’clock news.

New dialogue  to resolve THIS STORYLINE

Next Scene November 1979

Next Scene

Fells Point BPD break room

                       (KATE and LEVINE huddled together, both speak barely above a whisper)

LEVINE

So it looks like another holiday in the closet. To be honest, I am not looking forward to it. You got any plans for Thanksgiving?

KATE

You mean besides the Turkey Bowl?

LEVINE

Turkey–?

KATE

The Turkey Bowl, Calvert Hall and Loyola at the Stadium, only been doing it for like 80 years…well they have I think I have been to seven in a row.

LEVINE

But why?  You didn’t go there they’re both boy’s schools, right?

KATE

Yeah but my dad and just about every male in my family went to The Hall. But it’s over by noon, then we or I anyway, I haven’t introduced them to Mare yet, all of us go over to to my dad’s house for dinner…at least since my grandma died…

LEVINE

Oh I am so sorry—

KATE

No no… it’s been awhile so…

LEVINE

So…how long are we going to keep doing this…Christopher is having dinner with his folks and me…Christopher will bring some left overs and we will have a little dinner in the evening…

KATE

Well, maybe you could come a long with us…do the game…the whole nine yards…or ten since we’re talking football…oh by the way, anything new on your mistress…

LEVINE

Not a thing…the sketches turned up nothing…I am thinking we were barking up the wrong tree…at least, the heat is off this case since that Boy’s Latin case became the latest Red Ball…

KATE

Yeah that is so sad…the top scorer in the state the last three years, was going to go on to Hopkins next year  and he collapses on the practice field. They thought it has something to do with heat exhaustion then maybe a heart attack. Then they found out it was nicotine poisoning! And no motives, no suspects…nothing…lucky I am not the primary…

LEVINE

Yeah…you’re up to (looks at board) seventeen in a row now!

KATE

Yup and I owe it all to Dunkin Donuts!

(maybe end of scene)

Next Scene Fells Point White Coffee Pot Restaurant

                                                                           (KATE and LEVINE seated at a booth, Kate looks at the menu while LEVINE’s face is buried in the Baltimore Sun, an elevator music version of Angel in the Morning plays in the din)

KATE

No, I’m not hungry I think I’ll just have coffee…

LEVINE

Yeah,  not much of an appetite either…I could use a bagel though…

KATE

Yeah me too maybe but they don’t have bagels uh

LEVINE

So goyishe this place

KATE

Wrong side of town…that’s what I loved about working the Pimlico district, so many great Jewish deli’s but here?

LEVINE

Yeah the White Coffee Pot and Mussels

KATE

Muscles? You been working out?

LEVINE

No Kate, mussels not muscles as in Eat Bertha’s Mussels

KATE

Oh yeah Bertha E. Bartholomew’s. I remember when I first started seeing that Eat Bertha’s Mussels bumper sticker all over the place. Then I connected it with that bar on the corner…that place has really taken off…. them and Ledbetter’s…old Fell Point is becoming gentrified and even a tourist destination.

LEVINE

Yeah, and that is just going to bring us more problems… say, did you see this?

KATE

See—

LEVINE

Here in the Sun, they just passed a Domestic Partnerhsip law in California that supposedly gives gay couples the same rights as married couples.

KATE

It’s 1981, the times they are changing, indeed…by the way, John, have you…have you heard about this gay cancer going around that they think is being spread with sexual contact?

LEVINE

Of course, yeah, me and Christopher have talked about it a lot and how we don’t have to worry because we are monogamous…

KATE

Yeah, thank God we both are (looking at watch) oh it’s almost 10:00, so you’re not going to order…they do have great Kaiser rolls here so—

LEVINE

I think I’ll need to get one to go…our meeting with the chief is at 10:30, today is the big day!

KATE

Free at last, free at last, thank Gid almighty, we’ll be free at last!

Next Scene

Radio: The O’s will open their 1984 Grapefruit League season next week against the Yankees in Fort Lauderdale. The Birds hope to defend their title by relying on stellar performances by Mike Boddicker, Cal Ripken, Jr., Eddie Murray and Rick Dempsey. We’ll be right back with Charlie Eckman on sports. Ezrine Tire jingle plays

                                                   LEVINE

Did you see the Sunday Sun? Epstein is at it again! Fake news!

                                            KATE HANFORD

Fake uh what? (beat) Anyway no, I was down the Ocean…what was it all about?

                                                  LEVINE

More stuff about how incompetent the department is. I am tired of the lamestream media and the fake news!

                                          KATE HANFORD

Well, I uh…was it fake when he wrote how heroic we were when we both came out together?

                                                 LEVINE

Well… no… I guess not but he is harping about the unsolved Bondage Murder Mistress again. He just won’t let it go!

                                               PETERSON  enters

What’s he whining about now, Kate?

                                           KATE HANFORD

Same old same old, Epstein’s article in the Sunday Sun Magazine, the Bondage Mistress again.

                                              LEVINE

Yes, I am quite aware, Epstein interviewed me for the piece. Bright guy.

                                                LEVINE

Oh Dirk just because he—

                                            PETERSON 

–Yes he did do quite a job detailing my vast knowledge on the history of the emerging DNA technology that may soon help solve many of our cold cases including your mistress and my Arabber

                                        KATE HANFORD

What about the Stations of the Cross case?

                                            PETERSON

I don’t think so… we don’t have any blood but who knows? So, John how long has it been since your mistress struck?

                                                        LEVINE

I don’t even want to think about it. I just hope Epstein will give up the ghost SOMEday.  Anyway, if we do solve the murder because we preserved the blood evidence that’ll show ‘em—

                                            PETERSON

Yeah that’ll show them how brilliant I was because preserving the blood was my idea

                                                 LEVINE

Aw, Dirk—

 Fade

NEXT  SCENE

BCPD Fells Point Station Radio, :The Birds dropped another one last night making this the beginning of this 1986 season the most disastrous

PETERSON  (reading The Baltimore Sun)

Shut that off! Can you believe it. It’s not even May and the Birds are out of it! How can you start a season 0 and 21?

LEVINE

Well, DIRK, you’re only what…14, 15 back of my Yanks and you have five months to make up ground so…say how are you and Christopher getting along now that— 

I assume that It’s been pretty tough only seeing him on weekends but I bet he loves his new job.

PETERSON

Yeah and thank God for Amtrak and my folks having a place in Long Island with Christopher living in that tiny studio…I knew he was smart but the Southern District of New York? I am sending my resume to NYPD remember that asshole I told you about Lenny Briscoe, we worked that neo-Nazi case…. he ll put in a good word for me and if I don’t land with them, I might go into private work, maybe even start my own agency. (phone rings)

Next Scene opening day 1988

(SETTING: The Library Bar at The Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel “What’s Love Got to Do with It” plays on the juke. Dodgers game plays on TV on mute, song ends bartender turns the sound on…Vin Scully: so the Dodgers hope to rebound from their disappointing 1987 season finishing a disappointing 73-89 and fourth in the NL West. They open the season today against their NorCal rival San…”)

SHANAHAN

Hey Bill, could you turn that down?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Not a Dodger fan, huh?

SHANAHAN

No, I’m not from LA. I’m here for the pharmaceutical convention, leaving Monday and you?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Well I live here now… came out from Baltimore.  So, you’re a pharmacist?

SHANAHAN

No. I am a pharma sales rep.

MYSTERY WOMAN

So then, you are a drug dealer?

SHANAHAN

I guess you could say that. Baltimore, eh. What brought you out here?                                                                                                                                               

MYSTERY WOMAN

I was just looking for a more cosmopolitan lifestyle, the Charm City charm wasn’t enough to keep me there and a friend who moved out here in 82 had an extra room so—

SHANAHAN

And what do you do for a liv—

MYSTERY WOMAN–

–I am a uh, I’m a free-lance writer

SHANAHAN

Really?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Yes, still looking for a publisher for my groundbreaking book on feminism and I keep food on the table by writing inane drivel for women’s magazines and, of all things, The Saturday Evening Post.

SHANAHAN

Feminism, huh, so you’re one of those women’s libbers?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Please Mr. Shanahan, is it? Sean Shanahan?  We are no longer referred to as women’s libbers! That is so 1970s!

SHANAHAN

I am so sorry uh…what did you say your name was uh—

MYSTERY WOMAN

I didn’t but you can call me Tiffany…

SHANAHAN

So sorry, uh, Tiffany, I meant no harm, I am actually a liberal Democrat and supported the Equal Rights Amendment and detest that woman uh, Phyliss Schafly?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Schlafly. That woman needs to have the shit beat out of her… but I’m not here to talk

politics, just looking for a good time.                                            

SHANAHAN

We could have a good time!

MYSTERY WOMAN

You wouldn’t happen to have some samples? Quaaludes? Medical marijuana?

SHANAHAN

Medical marijua—?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Oh, never mind. I got some killer sensemilla and my own ludes…let’s get a bottle of Stoli too…

SHANAHAN

Gosh, Tiffany, you are so beautiful…there is something about you, that’s uh, different…I can’t put my finger on it—

MYSTERY WOMAN

No, you can’t, not now anyway—

SHANAHAN

Ha! I’ll put more than a finger on it!  

(Starts to reach under her skirt and grope her)

MYSTERY WOMAN

Whoa buddy, hold off on that! We’re in public! And who do you think you are, Donald Fucking Trump?

SHANAHAN

Donald uh who?

MYSTERY WOMAN

I see you are not from New York…so one more round and…

Blackout

Next Scene Fells Point BPD

PETERSON

Hey, did you hear about this new hire?

LEVINE

New—

PETERSON

Yes, the new Chief of Forensics, a DNA expert. His name is, get this, Paul Holes—

LEVINE

Holtz or holes? Like the eighteenth—

PETERSON
—Yes, the latter (spells) h o l e s…he will be going through all the cold cases where he may establish a DNA link and—

LEVINE

Well, he may be a lot of help since my cold cases have so many holes…

PETERSON

You know I never told you this but when the Arabber came in…I had read somewhere that they might be able to get DNA off a coffee cup, so I saved the cup he was drinking from but I went a step further, remember how the guy used to like slobber when he talked…ill-fitting dentures or whatever…well, once he was slobbering excessively, I lent him my handkerchief…I made sure I got it back, of course, and I preserved it.

LEVINE

Dirk, you are truly a genius.

PETERSON

Yes, I am.

(blackout)  

NEXT SCENE Fells Point BPD station Radio: The Birds hope to rebound tonight after their disappointing home opener 12-0 drubbing by the Milwaukee Brewers…whirring fax machine sound…

LEVINE

What’s that?

PETERSON

Looks like it’s our new machine whirring.

LEVINE

Our new mach—

PETERSON

—Our new fax machine, machine.

LEVINE

Facts machine?

PETERSON

Fax..short for facsimile

LEVINE

So, we actually got something coming through?  How do you work that thing?

PETERSON

Just wait for it to come through…

LEVINE

Wouldn’t it be faster if they just sent it over the internet?

PETERSON

Inter—

 LEVINE

 You know email?

PETERSON

E-?

LEVINE

Oh, never mind.

PETERSON

(pulls out cover sheet)

Anyway, look it’s from the LAPD

LEVINE

Los Angeles?

PETERSON

Yes, machine, Los Angeles…(pulls out page one) is there another LA?  Oh, my Lord, you’ll want to take a look at this!

LEVINE

Oh shit, Dirk, what?

PETERSON

Looks like your mistress has struck again… same MO, meets a guy in the bar and his mouth duct taped, found dead handcuffed to the hotel bed—

LEVINE

How do we know it’s not a copycat?

PETERSON

We don’t but it’s been a while, so the public has largely forgotten about our Bondage Murder Mistress and the big thing out on the coast was that Zodiac killer and now they got this new case they refer to as earons—

LEVINE

Ears on what?

PETERSON

 EarONS (spells it) e a r o n s.  The East Area Rapist slash Original Night Stalker…supposedly this guy had raped over fifty woman and murdered maybe a dozen all over the Golden State—

LEVINE

Doesn’t sound so Golden to me—

PETERSON

Yeah, they have a lot of wackos out there in the land of fruits and nuts….

you never know though. So, they have the bartender coming in to get a sketch. They want everything you got on our killer. I guess you better learn how to use the fax machine. Wait, there is another page coming through…(reading fax)

Okay just some contact information and so on…look make a copy and take this over to Holes’ office and let him handle the forensics on this.

NEXT Scene

PETERSON

Anything from Holes yet on the LA forensics on your mistress?

LEVINE

Not a thing, no prints, no blood, there was some semen on the sheets presumed to be from the victim of course but they are testing it to make sure, could take another few months though. Holes was hoping they would get some of the perp’s DNA from a drink cup or even a towel or something but all the hotel towels were gone and the place was wiped completely clean. Holes said our mistress is getting even smarter as she apparently knows all about how DNA works—

PETERSON

Well, looks like she is back to her old tricks. I think we may be hearing from her again and maybe sooner than we think. 

NEXT SCENE Hotel Room

MYSTERY WOMAN and MAN on sofa MYSTERY WOMAN in bra and panties MAN still fully dressed

MAN Where did you get this blow, this shit is great

(MYSTERY WOMAN unzips man’s pants and goes down on him)

MYSTERY WOMAN                                                                                                          Mmmmm yeah, stops and inhales a popper.

MAN                                                                                                                                               What’s that?

MYSTERY WOMAN                                                                                                                Poppers, man, amyl nitrate here try some…

MAN                                                                                                                                   oh wow that’s uh… oh wow

MYSTERY WOMAN                                                                                                                  Mmmmmmm yeah love poppers

(MAN reaches down and tugs at MYSTERY WOMAN’s panties)

MYSTERY WOMAN                                                                                                              No no no, don’t do that…it’s my time of the—

MAN                                                                                                                                                    —I don’t care

MYSTERY WOMAN                                                                                                               But…I do…stop it

MAN                                                                                                                              C’mon babe we may never see each other again (persists tugging at panties)

MYSTERY WOMAN                                                                                                        No just no! Get off!

MAN

What have you got going on down there? A whole box of Kotex?

MYSTERY WOMAN

Get your fucking hands off! (tries to push him away, MAN rips off panties)

MAN

You’re a uh! You bastard!  (punches MYSTERY WOMAN in the mouth) You fucking son of bitch, cocksucker (Continues beating her.  MYSTERY WOMAN grabs a pistol from her purse, man grabs the gun and empties a full round into her, killing her instantly)

Blackout

NEXT SCENE

BCPD Fells Point Station

TV In a stunning development in what has been known for years in Baltimore as the unsolved Bondage Mistress Murders, the apparent murderer was killed with her own 22 caliber weapon by a man who may have been fated to become her sixth or seventh victim.

LEVINE

Wait, what, how?

PETERSON

Shoosh, just listen

TV

LA police now have confirmed to WBAL News that the murderer’s purse was found to have contained duct tape, handcuffs and a vial of what is believed to be some type of poison. In another stunning development, LA police reveal that….(TV reception is lost)

PETERSON (fiddles with rabbit ears)

Damn, this TV…and why are we getting this from the Teeeee Veeeee, damn arrogant bastards out there!

(phone rings)

LEVINE

Homicide…yes okay thanks detective…that was Holes, he says he is calling the LAPD ME now…says it could be months before we know for sure but…

(blackout)

LEVINE

Well, thanks Dirk, if you hadn’t preserved the blood, we would have never known.

PETERSON

Don’t thank me, thank Watson and Crick…

 (Picks up the LA Times)

So that’s it? I would I have never believed it, all the witnesses always remarked how stunningly beautiful uh… she… uh was.

LEVINE

Yes, apparently, she was a real knockout. Jesus A Christ!  Reminds me a lot of Dog Day Afternoon… but the funny uh, the ironic thing is she had already booked a trip to Costa Rica.

PETERSON

Costa Rica, what? Why?

LEVINE

That’s where they go now since Hopkins—

PETERSON

–Oh yeah gotcha.

Next Scene

(KATE sits at a kitchen table stirring a cup of tea, she appears to be about eight months pregnant)

Female Voice OS

Katie Sweetie, come on back to bed, you need your beauty sleep, the baby needs you to get your rest too…

(blackout)

Next scene

(Bare stage lights up center stage PETERSON standing alone)

PETERSON

Okay, listen up everybody we just had two uniforms shot on Greenmount Avenue, they are being rushed to JHH as we speak but (beat) they aren’t expected to make it (yelling, cursing from voices OS) okay come on, listen up people, (still murmuring who? Who?) Look, I don’t want the names given out until we notify the families but this is going to be a major Red Ball and we need all hands on deck, McNulty, you are the primary, Donovan, I want you to be the eyes and ears to the forensics team, Ameche, (lights begin to fade) I want you to be my liaison to the ME, Marchetti[4], I want you with McNulty.  (detectives still murmuring) We have set up a perimeter at Greenmount and North Avenue (blackout on Peterson)

OS

We are with you chief!

OS

Okay thanks Captain Peterson

OS PETERSON (with strong conviction)

No Baltimore police officer murder case has ever remained unsolved in Baltimore Police Department history let alone two and it is not about to happen on my watch.

OS

We hear you, captain!

OS

Okay chief!

Final Scene

                                                                                    (a vacant high rise apartment someone has left a radio playing, Streets of Baltimore instrumental fades, then “it is another unseasonably hot and humid May day here in your Nation’s Capital. The Supreme Court handed down another major decision on Gay Rights yesterday as the High Court ruled in a 6–3 decision that a state constitutional amendment in which had outlawed  protected status based upon sexual preference did not satisfy the Equal Protection Clause of the US Constitution. In sports, the Orioles won again and are off to a promising 24 and 18 start to the 1996 season after trouncing the Angels 13-1 at Camden Yards)

PETERSON (turning radio off) 

I guess they haven’t finished cleaning (walks toward balcony window). Would you look at that view…just look at our city…I think I can see all the way to Fells Point!

CHRISTOPHER

We are facing south; can’t you see that is the Jefferson Memorial—

LEVINE

Well, of course, I was just thinking how far we have come…I mean I don’t believe any of this…we were hiding in the closet and now—

CHRISTOPHER

And now we close on this beautiful condo the same day we win a landmark decision on gay rights and

LEVINE

–you being a major part of it

CHRISTOPHER

Yes, I pinch myself every time I realize I am clerking for Ruth Bader Ginsburg!

LEVINE

I am no expert on jurisprudence but I think she is going to be one of the great ones!

CHRISTOPHER

Totally agree, she is brilliant….

LEVINE

Still can’t believe any of this including the fact that I will be spending my Golden Years being a house husband and changing little Dirk’s diapers—

CHRISTIOHER

Oh, come on, hon, you know I pitch in when I can and my mom too, she is just thrilled to finally have a grandson…oh you know we have to pick him up at one, mom’s got her bridge game and I have to head back to work, I need to work on some briefs.  (beat) But hon, you are not a househusband, you are an author, in fact, I was thinking we should hire a nanny—we can afford it—and that would give you more time to write…so how is it coming along? Do you have a title yet?

LEVINE

Yeah, I am thinking Homicide colon an insider’s look at the killing streets of Baltimore.

CHRISTOPHER

Well, it’s long and won’t it conjure up visions of the song?

LEVINE

–the song?

CHRISTOPHER

Yeah, you know, Bobby Bare, Gram Parsons, Emmylou Harris?

LEVINE

Yeah, I guess for the people who still listen to that shitkicker sh uh stuff.

CHRISTOPHER

Oh man that stuff is the greatest, that and bluegrass and you know Emmylou got her start right here in Georgetown?

LEVINE

I did not know that but you can have your Emmylou and I will stick with my Miles Davis.

CHRISTOPHER

Okay well uh (beat) writing that book… doesn’t it make you miss those days?

LEVINE

Oh yeah sure I do… but I don’t miss all those sleepless nights trying to figure out how to close those cold case Red Balls, that Bondage Lady had me going for years and that Epstein guy was on my case the whole time…

CHRISTOPHER

Oh yeah the Sun writer. You know he is working for the Washington Post now, right?

LEVINE

Couldn’t care less…don’t have to worry about that jerk anymore…

CHRISTOPHER

Oh, I meant to tell you. I ran across something on your mistress the other day. You remember the creep who killed her? (beat) He put up this fercockta gay panic defense? Well, it didn’t get him off but the jury pretty much drank the kool aid and convicted him of man two and, get this, 90 days community service, got the trial heard by  this really right wing Orange County jury who basically let him off Scot free but to top it all off a  couple years later, the no good SOB decides he doesn’t want the conviction on his record and appeals it and the Appeals Court sides with him! So that’s being appealed, and the case could even wind up here. ((beat) Of course, this woman was a serial killer, but she didn’t deserve to be executed… not in that brutal manner for certain…

LEVINE

You know it’s weird but I have been reading up on her, researching for the book and the more I read, the more I feel some sort of strange sympathy for her. Turns out she was brilliant. She had articles published by the Saturday Evening Post, Ladies Home Journal and McCall’s, really tepid innocuous stuff on gardening, diet, travel, stuff like that… you would never believe this was the same woman killing people…killing Johns really…not saying they deserved to die either but (beat) she published under the pen name of Tiffany Taylor…then she had some more meaty stuff rejected by The Nation, the New Yorker, The Atlantic and so on that she submitted under her legal name which was, get this! Elizabeth Cady Roosevelt!

CHRSTOPHER

Elizabeth Cady…? What? How did she uh get a—

LEVINE

C’mon Chris the same way she came up with Tiffany Taylor, she just—

CHRISTOPHER

Oh yes of course…

LEVINE

And really sad…I read she had all the money saved and was ready to go to Costa Rica when…it’s just sad, that’s all (beat) of course, life in prison would have not have exactly been a uh—

CHRISTOPHER

A walk in the park…but it is sad…. just a tragedy all the way around…

(both walk out to the balcony)

CHRISTOPHER

Warm out here…

LEVINE

Warm and beautiful…look at our beautiful city…and it’s all happening here…it’s all going to happen here, and my sweet prince is all a part of it…

(They embrace)

CHRISTOPHER

 A new day is dawning.

LEVINE

It is…indeed, it is.

(end of play)


[1] According to wiki, the first known ricin murder was September 1978 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Incidents_involving_ricin

[2] For my own clarification, the four murders occurred at The Mt. Vernon Inn, the Holiday Inn downtown, the Towson Towne Inn (in Baltimore County out of city jurisdiction) and now in Ocean City

[3] https://youtu.be/ccy2x-JEoGc

[4] Fun fact Art Donovan, Alan Ameche and Gino Marchetti were teammates on the 58-59 champion Baltimore Colts and stated the fast food hamburger chain Gino’s McNulty was the star detective in The Wire.  Donavan opened up a liquor store where we lived in Towson and we used to buy beer from him. Natty Bohs, of course

Slouching Towards Catonsville: A Baltimore Bildungsroman (Rewrite)

Slouching Towards Catonsville

 by

h nicole anderson

College Writing 130

Professor Larkin

April 11, 2014

This a fictional piece based on an actual event.
Baltimore 1968

Unlike many of my girlfriends, I hadn’t dated Black guys.

 William was a tall, athletic, handsome young African-American—chestnut brown skin with a short ‘fro—he wore a white V-neck cashmere sweater, khakis with loafers and no socks and really cool Foster Grant sunglasses and I didn’t think giving him a ride downtown in my Firebird convertible on a sunny Sunday would be a problem.

Not even with the top down.

Not even in racist sixties Baltimore.

The jaunt was uneventful until we reached East Baltimore Street— downtown just east of the Civic Center—where I had seen Sly and the Family Stone just weeks prior when some of the departing crowd had taken to breaking windows and looting. Occasional urban unrest was becoming normal in Charm City.

“It sure is pretty out, Will,”

“It’s William.” He said a bit tersely.

“Oh, sorry,” I said—remembering that many African-Americans did not cotton to diminutives. “I wonder where everybody is.”

Downtown was deserted.

“Don’t know. Hey hon, got any smokes?”

“I just bought a carton at Read’s… I think they’re in the trunk.”

With no traffic, I didn’t see any problem stopping in the left lane of the four-lane one-way street, even though it was a “No Stopping or Standing Anytime” zone.

All of the sudden, this middle-aged white guy in a Chevy Cavalier pulls right up to my bumper and starts honking his horn. “Move it!” I looked at William, like what the fuck? We just sat there laughing.

“Move it lady! Move it now!”

William gave him the finger.

The guy— short, with a beer-belly and wearing a polo shirt with a badge that read Daniel Davis, DeMolay, Cincinnati, Ohio on it— got out of his car but wasn’t quite stupid enough to approach us. He just stood there by his car yelling. “If you don’t move it now, I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna what?” William laughed, got out and stood by the passenger-side car door

“I’m gonna—look, just move the damn car, n****r-lover!”

William started back toward DeMolay Guy.

Up until then, we were having fun pissing off this ofay from Cincinnati but now things were getting ugly. I snapped out of my seat, ran over and grabbed William by the hand.

“William, come on, get back in the car.” Just then, I heard sirens. In a matter of a minute, we were surrounded by a phalanx of Baltimore Police in full riot gear.  

“Man, where did all these cops come from?”  William said, back in the car.

There must have been over a hundred of them, helmets, billy clubs, the whole nine yards.

It didn’t take long for the police to figure out that a race riot was not about to break out so the Riot Squad began to disperse and a police sergeant –a tall, middle-aged light-skinned African-American  man with a shock of gray hair—came over to speak with me. I explained to him that I had merely pulled over to get something out of the trunk and the real issue was that this white guy had a problem with me having a black guy in the car.

“And to top it all off, he called me a blankety-blank lover.”

“Miss, I am awfully sorry that happened to you. Now you be on your way. I’ll take care of the little fuck ofay.”

I wanted to say, “Did you just call DeMolay Guy a little fuck ofay?”  But  just said, “Okay but I’m going to grab those smokes.”

As I opened the trunk, little fuck ofay looked like he was going to wet his Fruit-of-the-Looms as the officer lectured him, and then asked to see his driver’s license. I went on my way thinking that I ruled the world—that portion of it that rested within the friendly confines of Baltimore City at least. 

On the way home, I treated William to a plate of crabs at Bo Brooks. Life was good.

When I arrived home, I started thinking about how my attitude about race had changed and wondered what my Aunt Jo would have thought had she been a fly resting on my rear-view mirror.

  “Good morning, Aunt Jo.”

Aunt Jo would often come over to help out around the house when my mom would need to rest up after one of her nervous spells.

“What would you like for breakfast, dear?  Got some nice scrapple—”

“I don’t know, scrapple sounds good but—”

Back then, scrapple did sound good and a perfectly normal thing to consume but being a messy conglomeration of congealed corn mush, pig snouts, pig lips, pig feet and Lord knows what else, it’s not something that I would dream of eating today but I ate it then and it was good.

I glanced up from the Sun headline: “Yankees Purchase Negro Star Catcher from Toronto.” Although I had barely graduated kindergarten, I read the Baltimore Sun every day. 

“I dunno, Aunt Jo,” reflecting that the Orioles who finished dead last their first year here could only improve if they added a black player. 

 “Maybe just some milk toast.”

I usually read the comics first; Lil Abner, Maggie and Jiggs, and Nancy by Ernie Bushmiller.  Then I would read the sports. Uncle Shorty had already instilled in me a love for the Orioles and hatred for the Yankees. 

Unlike Uncle Shorty—who was my maternal grandmother’s boyfriend—Aunt Jo really was related but I never knew the exact relationship except that she was on my mother’s side. She was a widow, maybe in her late 50s then with naturally curly gray hair and a face which was said to be “the map of Ireland.” I use that description because I can’t quite remember exactly how her face looked and that’s about as good a description as any. Aunt Jo was a devout Catholic, not real smart unlike most of the other women on my mother’s side and somewhat provincial in her thinking.

“Aunt Jo, why weren’t we born black?”

“Because we’re Catholic, dear.”

 My young mind thought this made sense because only white—or nearly white—people went to Mass at St. Matthew’s, the Catholic church that served the spanking-brand-new tract of red brick row houses known as Foxcroft.

Not all the people at Mass were normal like us though. There were some who were a little darker even in the wintertime. Some of the boys who were not yet teenagers had mustaches already and their hair was greasy even without Vaseline Hair Tonic.  There were also two hunchbacks, one was an older usher and there was another young hunchback who came to High Mass.  Neither one of them lived very long.

Once, I heard Uncle Asa—my Dad’s younger brother —refer to one of the darker ones as a guinea greaseball—not nice but nothing compared to the way people talked about blacks in Baltimore.  Darkies, spooks, spades, coons— and the worst word of all.

”Why can’t we say n*****r, Aunt Jo?”

“Oh, hon!” Aunt Jo always called me hon or dear as if she didn’t know what my name was.

“You can’t never use that word. Don’t you know that’s how your cousin Mike lost his front tooth saying that?”

No, I didn’t. I wondered how saying a word—even a really bad one like that— could make you lose a tooth.  I thought maybe it was a punishment from God.

“Aunt Jo, did God punish Mike by making his tooth fall out?”

“No, hon,” she snickered as she took the pan of milk off the stove and scraped the burnt off my toast.

“Mike called one of the coloreds” —the way she said it, it sounded like kellereds—“ the bad word in front of Read’s—”

Auntie placed my milk toast on the table.

“—and the kellered knocked Mike’s tooth out.”

I remembered thinking as the warm buttery milky bread lingered on my tongue and slid down my throat without even chewing that I would never utter that word. Little did I know then that years later, I would be called a n*****r-lover.

As I fiddled with my milk toast, the doorbell rang.

 I still had more questions but had to wait for Aunt Jo to fend off a gaggle of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

“I just wish those people would leave us—”

 “How come there are no bad words for us, Aunt Joe? Is it because we’re normal?”

We were, after all, normal. We had normal faces, normal hair, normal noses, talked normal and we even had normal names like Henderson, Smith, Collins, Jones and Johnson but, then again, I wondered why blacks had those names too. Some of our cousins had names that were not so normal like McGillicutty or O’Hara.

On my mother’s side were the Riders. A very normal name, except I learned many years later that it was really Reuter. Not so normal. Of course, it was a perfectly normal German name being that my great-great-great grandfather who came over from Hesse in 1850 was the one who had it.

“Well yes, we are normal but still there must be some bad names for us?” I asked as I poked at the last piece of soggy toast.

“Well— maybe.” 

“What are they, Aunt Jo?”

“Look, I really don’t know maybe you should ask your mother.”

Mom would not tell me either.

Later I found out the main bad word for us was Mick, which really didn’t seem so bad since one of the most beloved icons of the day was Mickey Mouse and the most famous child actor was Mickey Rooney and later the great rock star Mick Jagger would become a hero to us all.

 I also found out that we could be called Krauts for the German side which was never talked about for some reason. I thought that maybe it was because there was no German St. Paddy’s Day when people could wear T-shirts that said, “Kiss me, I’m a Kraut.”

So, I thought yes being Catholic and Irish and maybe even the not-much-talked-about German was normal and everyone else, especially the blacks, were not normal. Otherwise, why would all the dogs bark when the black Arabbers would come up the alley way selling topsoil and stuff?

“Why do all of the dogs bark when colored people come around, Aunt Jo?”

“Because they are trying to protect us from them, dear.”

I was afraid to ask from what, so remembering what the Baltimore Catechism said about God loving everyone, I asked.

“Does God love the coloreds, Aunt Jo?”

“Yes, He does, hon.”

“Then we should love the coloreds too?”

“Yes, you should dear but you should feel sorry for them.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not their fault they were born black.”

“Oh.”

All these things I pondered as I sat in Sister Claudia’s seventh grade class where she took it upon herself to pontificate on Freedom Riders being arrested in Mississippi.  I thought about how stupid I was then and how much I missed Aunt Jo—she had died of cancer a few months prior— and her silly, offbeat  but charming view of the world.  And I wondered what she would have thought about Mississippi.  Then Sister Claudia’s sharp staccato jolted me back to the stuffiness of the St. Mathew’s classroom.

“We have enough problems up here to worry about. They have no business going down there and stirring up trouble. They deserve to be arrested—I hope they rot in jail. “

Most of the boys, nattily attired with starched white button-down shirts but not-so-natty green knit ties with S.M.S. emblazoned upon them, and most of the girls in our green jumpers and beanies did not seem to care that much or understand the significance of Sister Claudia’s bigotry.

Remembering what Aunt Jo said, I thought that going down to Mississippi to help blacks get their freedom was the correct thing to do but Sister Claudia was right too. We did have problems in our own backyard as Jim Crow was not confined to Mississippi. He was still alive—albeit a little less virulently— in Baltimore but no one seemed to want to do much about until I got to high school.

___________________________________________________________________________

I had just gotten home from Mercy High and was in the living room studying algebra when I heard them all coming up the steps.

“But it’s really not right that they can’t even go to see a movie—” I heard my mom say as she opened the front door.

“Yeah, but do you really want to go swimming with them?”

“They say they don’t have to let them in at Beaver Dam because it’s considered a private club.”

Mom, Grandma Rider and Uncle Shorty had just returned from the Northwood Shopping Center where a group of students from Morgan State College were picketing the movie theater and the barber shop.

 “Oh, I was wondering about that. I guess that’s how they keep the Jews out.” Grandma said revealing her anti-Semitic bent.

“And how do they expect the white barbers to cut that steel wool?” Shorty wondered.

“It’s not steel wool.” Mom replied.

“Oh, what are you gonna do, soon they’ll be taking over everything.” Shorty said, “I guess we just have to live with it.”

“Live with them? So far, they haven’t even made it up much past North Avenue.”

“Yeah, I guess it’ll be a while before they try to move to Foxcroft.”

The nuns at Mercy High were not quite as severe as the School Sisters of Notre Dame had been at St. Matthews. This is not to say they were not strict, however. We weren’t allowed to wear any makeup and, like the nuns at St. Matthews, they referred to the girls who went to public school as the “dirty skirts.” The Mercy uniforms were nicer than the ugly green jumpsuits we wore in grade school. A plain white blouse and a beige skirt that fell just below the knees. And no ugly beanie.  And while  I did not particularly care for the bobby sox they made us wear,  I liked being in class without boys.

And I did well that first year, almost all A’s.

__________________________________________________________________________

In August of the following summer,  I was getting ready for another school year when I heard from one of my friends  at  Calvert Hall, the boy’s Catholic high school, that some of the inner-city churches were organizing bus trips for this massive rally that was to happen in Washington DC in a couple weeks.

“Mom, Jimmy Clark has invited me to go on a bus trip to Washington DC.”

“That’s nice, hon — what for?” She kept ironing.

“They’re gonna have a rally for Civil Rights and I heard Joan Baez is singing.”

“That sounds nice, dear.”

“I need $5 for the bus fare and a box lunch.” 

“Who else is going to be there?”

“Oh, that guy Martin Luther King is going to speak. Can I get the $5?”

Mom stopped ironing. “Absolutely not. You’ll not get involved with all those hooligans.”

“But mom —”

“No! I said no. Your father would have a heart attack.”

I went anyway. I didn’t see or hear Joan Baez. In fact, way back in the mall, I could barely see Lincoln. But I heard King—something about having a dream—and then Marian Anderson led thousands of us in song.

“We shall live in peace, we shall live in peace,                                                                                                                

We shall live in peace someday,

Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,

We shall live in peace someday”

I knew then that I had to do something to help blacks get their rights so we wouldn’t have to feel sorry for them anymore.

My father did not have a heart attack. In fact, I don’t even remember if I got punished.

____________________________________________________________________________

A scant three months later, I was in chemistry class when suddenly a lecture on the periodic table was interrupted by the sound of a radio newscast coming over the intercom. We all giggled thinking it was a mistake. It wasn’t.  “The president  is being transported to Parkland Memorial and should be arriving there momentarily, Keith—“ Everyone looked at each other quizzically trying to sort out what was happening then it became all too clear.

“To recap, the president was shot in Dallas shortly after noon today while riding with his wife and Texas Governor Connolly—” 

After November 1963, my sophomore year, my grades began to fall. Not that I am blaming Lee Harvey Oswald, mind you, but something inside me died that November day.

A sense of hope for the future. That we could change things.

That I could do anything meaningful to change things.

Going into my junior year, I began thinking seriously about a career. My grades in math and science did not improve but I was getting A’s and B’s in all the humanities and teachers continued to praise my writing skills. Maybe I could become a lawyer. Maybe even run for some public office.  I was also trying to play the guitar and sing but I had no real ambition to become the next Joan Baez but, then again, I did feel like I could contribute to the movement if I could learn how to play “We Shall Overcome” and “Blowing in the Wind”. 

I was becoming your quintessential armchair activist. 

________________________________________________________________________

“It’s in F, don’t know you know how to play in F?” Greg said— a really cute but somewhat arrogant guy—he made it point to let everyone in the Songwriter’s Circle know who he was.

“Greg Keane? No Kihn, K-I-H-N.”

He was the only one in the Songwriter’s Circle who had actually written what you could call a real song, something about love being in jeopardy as I recall.

“No I only know three chords G, C and D but I have a capo.”

Yes he was a bit arrogant but he took the time to show me how to play “Banks of the Ohio.”

“What about “We Shall Overcome?”

“No, you need minor chords for that, hon.”

He showed me A minor and E minor .

“They go with the key of G and sometimes you need B minor too and you should learn A. Learn those chords and you will be able to play almost any song.”

So, I think I really began to learn to play the guitar that day but that was not all I learned.

“Hey hon, wanna get high?” This other guy asked?

“Get high?”

“Yeah, I got some pot?”

“Why not?”

So we went outside and I smoked my first joint. I felt really mellow and grown up. I was becoming the real me, I thought. 

We only had the room at the Emmanuel Lutheran until five so when we got back in, everybody was packing up. One of Greg’s friends invited everyone to a party. So we went to his house where there was more pot and Boone’s Farm and someone had some Yago Sangria which I loved.  We ran out of papers so someone made a pipe out of a cucumber. That’s about the last thing I remember except some guy trying to put his hand under my skirt after he gave me a lift home. 

During that summer, we moved to a new home in Towson and, with the house payments, my dad could no longer afford to send me to Catholic school. So, I transferred to co-ed Towson High.

With the distraction of having boys in class and a different (boring) curriculum, my grades started to suffer even more and my dream of winning a college scholarship like my older brother soon faded.  On top of that, the family seemed to be falling apart. My mom’s mental condition worsened with Aunt Jo not around to help and Grandma Rider, her mother, being diagnosed and later hospitalized with terminal colon cancer. 

So even if I got accepted into a decent college, my parents couldn’t help.  In fact, I found myself having to work my way through high school. During the summer before my senior year, I had gotten the job selling newspaper subscriptions door-to-door for the Baltimore Sun, the only female hired in that position. I became a top salesperson and I continued to work on Saturdays throughout the school year.

During spring break of my senior year, I remember sitting in the living room on Good Friday feeling like I was becoming a fallen away Catholic because I no longer did the Stations of the Cross as I had done every year while in Catholic school. Not only that but I started feeling verklempt about not carrying out my calling: helping the less fortunate. Now, it seems, I had a hard enough time just worrying about how to take care of myself. 

 The doorbell rang.

“Is the lady of the house in?”

“Sure, come on in.” I called my mother.

“The publishers of Time Magazine are running a special promotion to help young ladies like myself work their way through college—”

“How nice of them—” My mother interrupted.

The young lady explained that she the magazines made most of their money from advertising.

“Because of that, I will be able to provide you and yours with Ladies Home Journal, McCall’s, Life, Better Homes & Garden, the Saturday Evening Post and Time — all for free if only you would agree to pay for the postage.”

“The Saturday Evening Post too? Oh I love Norman Rockwell’s covers—”

“Yes ma’am. The Saturday Evening Post too and I will even throw in Boy’s Life if you have any young lads in the home.”

“Oh I do! Sign me up.”

My mother wound up buying $129 worth of free magazines.  I thought to myself that this beats selling The Sun door-to-door. I asked for the nice young lady for her card.

I graduated from Towson High with a C minus average and found myself selling magazines door-to-door a month later. I had intended to eventually try to work my way through college and later registered at Catonsville Community College but never went to classes.  Again, I became a top salesperson doubling the production of some of the guys.  Soon, the boss wanted me to try my hand at closing. The telephone solicitors—all women—would produce leads and I would simply go to the door and get them to sign the sales order and collect the down payment. Doing that, I could triple my salary but I needed a car. The boss, Mr. Tucker, let me drive an old Ford Fairlane sedan with hardly any brakes and bald-headed tires. But it got me to the customer’s houses and I started making real money.

My father— a salesman at A D Anderson’s Oldsmobile-Pontiac—had never been around the house much.  Lately though, he was around even less than usual  but he caught me leaving early one Saturday morning  in the “deathtrap” as my mother called it.

“I don’t want you driving that piece of shit. With the money you’re making I can put you in a brand-new Firebird.  You can even have a convertible if you want.”

  A week later, I was driving a brand-new 1969 canary yellow Firebird convertible. Ironically, the Firebird and not the junker would nearly become a deathtrap. 

With the full-time job and other responsibilities, I found myself working more and partying less. This is not to say that I had become a teetotaler, however. I regularly would drink and drive. I got pulled over a couple times but being white and blonde and knowing how to flirt, the cops would always let me go. The worst thing that ever happened was when the cops caught us drinking on the side of the road and confiscated a whole case of beer we had in the trunk.  I was beginning to learn that the rules did not apply to me.

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If you stand in the rubble of the Peabody Book Shop and Beer Stube and listen very, very hard to the first winds of autumn, you may hear echoes of a ragtime piano, or H. L. Mencken or F. Scott Fitzgerald ordering another round, or even the slither of the cards as Dantini the Magician performs his magic act for the last time.—Baltimore Sun

Or a certain young lady playing the guitar in the “gemutlichkeit atmosphere” of the Stube backroom with the fireplace, out of tune piano and stuffed moose heads where patrons would warm themselves over a hot mulled wine after passing the musty old books scattered higgledy-piggledy in the front bookstore and art gallery.  

“I’ll pay you $15. You also get two drinks. Be here at eight o’clock.”

Now I was really was somebody. I had a good job, a nice ride and nice clothes. I could get a manicure every week and my hair done regularly. And I was getting paid to sing.

The only thing missing was a love life and although I would occasionally accept a dinner and movie date with some diffident white guy from the suburbs, I had no desire to sleep with any of them. I began to realize that maybe I was attracted to women but it would be quite some time before I would act on those urges. Perhaps, that’s why I turned more and more to drugs to fill the void.

I heard from my gay hairdresser that most of the dyke bars in the city served underage women. So one night, filled with alcohol-fueled fearlessness,  I ventured into Cicero’s, a dyke motorcycle hangout on N. Gay St. The thought of hooking up with any of the women there—with their Butch haircuts and tattoos—scared me about as much as getting close to a guy but I managed to get up the nerve to talk with some of the women and even dance. That’s where I met Rose Kowalczyk .

We never became lovers. Rose and I. But we might just as well have been. She was feminine as far as appearances go. Soft raven hair, dark eyes, not a beauty queen but pretty. Her manner was not butch but just brusque enough to be attractive but not threatening.  And probably most important of all, she loved to drink.  After we met, we spent almost every weekend together, often going out of town:  D.C., The Ocean, Atlantic City. She took me to Boston to visit her friends who took us to see to the local production of One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. And we went to Manhattan, this time staying with my friends:  A dancer who had a bit part in Hair and an artist who drew for Al Capp They had a loft overlooking the Fillmore East on Second Avenue.

Too bad all this ended so soon.

Just when I started to fancy myself a dyed-in-the-wool-Bohemian-hippie-chick.

______________________________________________________________________________

The dusk to dawn curfew and the ban on alcohol sales will continue at least through Monday, a spokesman for the Mayor announced earlier this afternoon. A similar curfew is expected to remain effect in Baltimore County. However, a spokesman for Harford County announced that the curfew as well as the prohibition on alcohol sales will be lifted there effective 9 am Monday. Meanwhile, unrest continued throughout the city for the third consecutive night following the assassination of Martin Luther King—

I turned down the volume on the Zenith clock radio and called Rose.

“Hey, I just heard that their lifting the ban up in Harford County.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of going up and filling up the trunk. We could hang out at the park later. Maybe get some chicken.”

“No, they don’t expect me back at work either till at least Wednesday.”

“Okay, I’ll come by around ten.”

The next morning, we drove up to Bel Air. We got a couple of fifths of Canadian Club, some Seagram’s  for my mom—she had been mostly a beer drinker but, recently, since Grandma Rider passed, she had gravitated to the harder stuff—some vodka for Rose’s father, some Boone’s Farm, Yago Sangria and  three cases of beer. I dropped off some of the booze at my house, grabbed a blanket and an ice chest, started chilling the beer and the Boone’s Farm, then we drove back to Dundalk to drop off the vodka, bought some KFC and went to chill out at Patterson Park.

We stayed at the park all afternoon under the shade of a pagoda drinking sangria and eating Original Recipe. Rose brought along a little weed to smoke, so we had some reefer. I had a few Black Beauties left over that I had copped from a quack diet-doctor, so we each took a couple after we started to nod out.

We drove back to Dundalk as the sun was setting and Rose’s mother invited me in. We walked into the kitchen. There her father—a tall, gruff man who looked old enough to be her grandfather—sat at the table with his now half-empty quart of Smirnoff’s Blue, a shot glass and a smile.  He did not know much English but I understood him when he asked us to drink with him.

“We drink to peace.”

So for the next couple hours, we drank to peace and just about everything else imaginable.  I recall having to get up to try to find the second floor bathroom and barely being able to navigate up the narrow staircase but then remembering hardly anything else until I woke up in the back of a police cruiser.

On the way home, driving east on Moravia, I ran a red light at Bel Air Road and T-boned a guy driving south. The cops asked me a series of questions and all I remember saying is “I don’t know. I don’t know.” The one thing I do remember is the officer saying that if I had hit the guy a couple more feet to the center, I would have killed him and that, in fact, both of use were lucky to be alive.

 Later, I found out that he had been drinking too which was the only possible explanation I could think of as to why I wasn’t charged with DWI. Both cars were totaled.  He had a couple broken ribs and internal injuries. I was not hurt. I was charged with Reckless Driving Involving an Accident with Bodily Injury, a serious charge that could mean a license suspension but far less serious than DWI.

With no car, I couldn’t go back to work as a closer for the magazine outfit so I worked in the phone room instead. But soon the boss realized that he needed me out in the field. First, he arranged to take care of the traffic ticket for me. A conviction could have meant a license suspension. “Hon, go downtown tomorrow”, he wrote down the address on a sales order form and handed it me, “and give them $50 cash.” Next, Mr. Tucker arranged to get a new Plymouth Satellite leased that I could drive but I had to leave it parked at the office at night. This meant that I no longer had any way to get to Dundalk to visit Rose.

 I went to court on the traffic ticket. The lawyer told me to show up and plead not guilty and not to worry about the rest. And sure enough, when the judge asked me what my plea was, I said “Not guilty.” He said, “Case dismissed” and slammed his gavel down. I remember thinking how rigged the system was and how capable I was capable, of all people, of rigging it. Not only were the Baltimore police on my side but the judiciary as well. Had I never ventured outside the city limits of Baltimore my life might have remained firmly within my control. 

Rose and I continued to talk and once I visited her once in April but the bus ride took four hours each way. By May, I guess we both figured it wasn’t working so we no longer even talked on the phone.

But the phone rang early one morning in June. It was Rose.

“Did you see The Sun yet?”

“No, it’s cloudy up here.”

“No, the Sunpaper, silly.”

“No, I just got up.”

“They shot Bobby. He’s dead.”

“Bobby?”

“Bobby Kennedy. Some foreign guy killed him.”

“Oh man, he was our only hope.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, hey maybe we can get together when I take vacation and go down The Ocean. I’ll bring my guitar.”

We never did our bus trip to Ocean City. In fact, June 7, 1968 was the last time we talked.

By then, I realized that this country and the world was so fucked up, it was beyond repair and even if it could be fixed, a girl from Baltimore who everyone called hon was the last person in the world who could do much to mend it.

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Some might remember July 20, 1969 as the day men first walked on the moon, I remember it as the day I ate my first taco.

I had met these two women Joanie and Marilyn who lived up in Harford County. They had been Army brats and lived with their folks near the Aberdeen Proving Grounds.  They had a calming effect on me because neither one of them drank. I would spend weekends up there going to the shore or hanging around the house, barbecuing and watching TV.

“Hey sweetie,” Joanie always called me sweetie, “Have you ever had tacos?”

At the time, there were no Mexican restaurants in Baltimore. “Tacos? Those little do-dads you snack on with your sangria at a Spanish restaurant?”

“No, not tapas, these are Mexican and they’re really good.” So we went to the Super Giant and got all the ingredients.

So while Neil Armstrong enjoyed his first small step, I enjoyed my first small bite—of a taco.

It wasn’t moon landing weekend but it was some Sunday night after that leaving Joanie’s house that I spotted a country & western bar that was advertising a Sunday evening open jam.  I figured I could go in, have a drink and sing with the band. I brought the house down when I sang and everyone started buying me drinks so the one drink became over a dozen. Again, I thought if I popped a Black Beauty or two, it would help me sober up and get home. I remember leaving the bar and buying a half-pint at the package good store but then, rather inexplicably, going next door to the diner to have coffee to sober me up.

I got on I-95 and headed south— I thought. After a few minutes, now sipping on the Jack Daniel’s in the brown paper bag, I noticed a sign:  Philadelphia, 65. I was heading north.  My last recollection inside the car was looking for a place to turn around.

“Your honor, I found a half-pint of whiskey in her car. But she’s not only drunk but I think SHE IS ON DRUGS!”

I was sitting there handcuffed in a room in the private home of a Harford County magistrate.

“But you didn’t find any drugs in the car?”

“No, your honor.”

“I want to call my lawyer.”

“Shut up, bitch, you’re lucky to be alive.”

“What’s that, trooper?” the magistrate asked.

“Just before I pulled her over she almost swerved head on into the bridge abutment at Susquehanna Bend Road.”

The judge looked at me with pity and disgust,  then signed some paper.

“Ok then, thanks trooper.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

I never have figured out why I was taken to a magistrate instead of just being booked directly into jail like they do these days. I was booked for DWI and I also had some unpaid traffic tickets so I needed to come up with about $500 to get out of jail. Not being familiar with the services of bail bondsmen yet apparently, I rotted in jail for three weeks. Well, I can’t say I rotted as it was somewhat of an adventure.

“The one with the anchor tattoo. Don’t mess with her and just do what she says.”

“You mean the one they call ‘Sarge’?”

“Yeah, I think her real name is Debbie. She carries a knife she whittled out of wood.”

I had heard stories of women being raped with broomsticks at these lock-ups but usually in the city not out here in the sticks. 

 I tried calling Uncle Shorty—I knew he would help me—but his line was constantly busy. My father—who I found out later was now spending almost all his free time with a barmaid he was having an affair with— claimed he couldn’t get the money. I know he just wanted me to stay in jail to teach me a lesson but when I told him about Sarge, he bailed me out the next day. Grandma Louise came up with the money.

 Just a week after that, the phone rings, it was my dad.

“I got bad news—“

“Oh?”

“The police found Shorty dead in his apartment. He’d been dead a couple weeks. Norman was just sitting there staring into space.”

 World War I veteran Norman had been lobotomized as a treatment for “shell-shock.” 

“He was already dead when you were calling him.”

A week or so later, my dad calls again.

“You don’t have to say anything—your grandmother passed away last night—she had a heart attack.”

 Everyone from that generation was gone now except for my paternal grandfather who would live another few  years and take a great deal of pride in seeing me advance as a musician.  With ML King gone, what limited civil rights the system would allow blacks to have had already been achieved.  The Summer of Love seemed to have been just yesterday but even that was becoming ancient history. Soon, Elvis would be dead and disco would rule.  And I had little inkling that working my way through college was about to take a thirty year detour.

When my job found about the DWI, I was fired.  Now I had no way to raise any money for a DWI defense—or better yet, to pay off the judge—so I went back up to Harford County and threw myself at the mercy of the court. The judge showed little  mercy and fined me $100, sentenced me to 30 days in jail and revoked my driver’s license. 

They let me out after serving 15 days. Out of a job, I would spend the next few weeks at home reading the want-ads so I was home the night my father spilled the beans that he was having an affair with the night bartender at Love’s, a seafood restaurant just down the street from the car dealership. The revelation escalated into a violent argument culminating in my father hitting my mother in the face bruising her lip. Back then, you didn’t call the cops but when my older brother came home from college the next weekend, he had my mother file papers for a legal separation. My dad moved out of the house and in with the barmaid. 

A couple weeks later, my mother had another nervous breakdown and was admitted to Spring Grove State Mental Hospital. We lost the house. My younger sisters and baby brother moved in with dad and the barmaid, I found a $1.50 hour plus bonus job making appointments for aluminum siding salesmen and rented a $60.00 a month basement apartment on St. Paul Street downtown. But with the $25 that I was now making at The Peabody Beer Stube on Saturday nights, I had more than enough to keep a roof over my head, in Boone’s Farm, pot, acid, mescaline, hash, Stauffer’s frozen dinners, cab fares to Cicero’s. 

In November, the aluminum siding outfit was shut down for scamming customers one of their sales pitches included a spiel that everyone on their block was buying the package because it increased the value of their homes as well as the entire neighborhood and made it less likely that a black family would move in.

I hated telemarketing anyway and decided to see if I could make it as a musician. The Stube booked me for another night and I got a night at The Horse You Came in On in Fells Point which was just then becoming gentrified.

Some guy who heard me play at The Horse—I think he was a lawyer—asked me if I would play at New Year’s Eve party at his house in Dulaney Valley.

“I can pay you $100.”

“Well, yeah sure, I’d love to but I have no way to get there.”

“I can have my son pick you up.”

“It’s a deal.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

December 31, 1969

Playing for thirty or more people was not easy without a PA. I tried getting people to sing along with varying degrees of success. I took a lot of requests—Sweet Caroline, Easy to be Hard— playing some songs two or three times.

“Hey hon, can you play Those Were the Days again?”

Sure.

“Once upon a time there was a tavern
Where we used to raise a glass or two
Remember how we laughed away the hours
And think of all the great things we would do                                                                                         Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la, la la la la, those were the days, oh yes, those were the days.”

At about twenty to twelve, I played one last song as they all wanted to have Guy Lombardo usher in the New Year on TV.

I thought what could be more appropriate to exit  the sixties with than We Shall Overcome?         

I tried to get everyone to so sing but only managed to get one inebriated middle-aged woman to join in.

But I sang.

And just kept singing.

“Deep in my heart, I do believe—that we shall overcome—”

“—someday.”

Someday.

Maybe.

Just not today.