"This Ripper shooting. Perhaps it is a charade."
"Could be. I've seen Rona Ripper in the flesh. You could shoot her in the butt all day long and not hit bone."
"Remo, why don't you look into the Ripper campaign?"
"Not me. I draw the line there. She's almost as bad as Cheeta Ching."
"Speaking of Miss Ching, your problems with her may be over."
Remo brightened. "How so?"
"It was just announced that she is expecting a child."
Remo's unhappy expression returned. "I guess that Japanese newscaster outran her."
"What did you say?"
"Never mind, Smitty. I wouldn't believe anything Cheeta Ching says, okay? As for Rona the Ripper, count me out."
"Could you persuade Chiun to handle that end?" Smith asked.
"I doubt it."
"Then you have no choice," Smith said crisply. "Join the Ripper campaign, and learn all you can."
"With my luck," Remo growled, "I'll end up with Cheeta on one side and Rona on the other."
"In the meantime, we will just have to hope that Barry Black's personal security is enough."
"No sweat. He's in his attic and refuses to come down. You know, Esperanza is starting to look better every day."
"We are not taking sides in this," Smith said sternly.
"Maybe not. But that doesn't mean we can't back the horse we want."
"Let me know if anything breaks," Smith said, hanging up.
Remo left the phone booth and almost made it to his rented car unaccosted.
He ignored a wolf whistle, thinking it was directed at a busty blonde on the other side of the street.
A second wolf whistle was followed by the comment, "Where'd you get those wrists, tall, dark, and limber?"
Remo had never heard the word "limber" used to describe a member of the opposite sex, and looked up. There was a construction worker in a hard hat and with a beer belly, three stories up in an under-construction high-rise.
When he caught Remo's eye, he blew him a kiss.
Remo gave him half the peace sign in return, and continued on to his car, muttering, "It'll be great to get out of this city. Santa Monica has to be a thousand times better than this."
Santa Monica, when Remo reached it after a six-hour drive, looked as though a neutron bomb had detonated in the middle of Main Street.
Main Street was the main drag, just up from the beach. The ocean tang, flavored by salt-water taffy, refreshed the air, and the store windows on either side displayed surfboards and bathing suits.
So did the undulating bodies strolling up and down the walks.
But it was the bodies lying in the streets and brightpainted alleys that caught Remo's attention.
They were everywhere. As Remo drove past Palisades Park, he saw that almost every square inch of greenery was occupied by disheveled, unwashed, and unshaven people of both sexes. There were Hispanics drinking out of paper bag-covered bottles. Asians lying in sleeping bags like caterpillars, and others playing cards. Most of them were asleep under the summer sunshine, however. The snoring was enough to keep the trees free of birds.
Under a eucalyptus tree, a man was roasting a squirrel.
A neat hand-carved sign at the park entrance read:
HOMELESS SHELTER. TAXPAYERS KEEP OFF THE GRASS.
Remo spotted a cop guarding the entrance and pulled over. He leaned out the window.
"Where can I find St. John's?"
The cop gave precise directions, then Remo asked, "How long has it been like this?"
"Since the city council voted to make Santa Monica a nuclear-free town."
"That doesn't explain all these homeless people," Remo pointed out.
"They added a rider that hung a Welcome to the Homeless sign at the town limits, and a statute against arresting them for anything less than a capital crime," explained the cop. "Word got out, and now we're the homeless capital of California."
"What about the taxpapers?" Remo asked.
"If they don't like it, they can move. It's a free country."
"Unless you pay taxes," Remo muttered, sliding back into traffic.
At the next light, Remo's car was surrounded by three beggars who refused to let him pass unless he paid the toll.
"What's the toll?" Remo asked.
"Five bucks. For each of us."
"I think I'll take the detour, thanks," Remo said.
"You go down that street and the toll's twenty. Get a better deal from us."
Remo gunned the motor, saying, "I bet I'd be doing the squirrel population a big favor if I just floored the pedal."
"You do that and the man will arrest you."