“Not the way you mean,” I said.
“You mean, it’s hard to shoot someone?”
“Can be.”
“Is this all I do, point it and shoot?”
“If it’s loaded and cocked, yes.”
“Show me how to load it.”
I showed her how to slide the magazine into the handle.
“It’s heavier with the bullets,” she said.
“A little,” I said.
“If I pull the trigger now, will it go off?”
“No. You’ve got to jack a round up into the chamber. Look.” I showed her how. “Now if you pull the trigger it will shoot.” I took it from her and took out the clip and ejected the chambered bullet and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell with an empty click. Then I handed her the pistol.
“Okay, you do it.”
She put the magazine in, ran the action back, and looked at me. “Now I can shoot.”
“Yes.”
“Do I have to push the thing back every time I shoot?”
“No. Only the first time. Then it does it by itself. After the first time you just keep squeezing the trigger. When it’s empty, the breech will lock open.”
“What if I need more than, what is it, six shots?”
“Yes. If you do, you can reload the magazine. But if you’ve fired six rounds and need more, you probably won’t have time to reload. I advise flight.”
She practiced loading and cocking a couple of times. Then she pointed the empty gun and practiced a couple of clicks. “Am I doing it right?” she said.
“Yeah. Try to shoot from close. Don’t waste time on shooting from very far. The gun’s not made for it, and neither are you. Shoot for the middle of the body. It allows the most margin of error. You might want to shoot with both hands, like this.” I showed her. “Or if it’s sort of a far shot, you might do it like this.” I showed her the target- shooting stance and told her how to let out the air, and not breathe, and squeeze the trigger. “All of that is unlikely,” I said. “What you’ll want to hit with the gun, if you need to, will probably be very close up and hard to miss. What you need to do most of all is remember you’ve got it, and be willing to use it. Keep in mind that they want to kill you.”
“You’ve shot people?”
“Yes.”
“Is it awful?”
“No. It’s fashionable to say so, but no. It’s not awful. Often it’s fairly easy. Not messy like stabbing or clubbing or strangling, that sort of thing. It’s relatively impersonal. Click. Bang. Dead.”
“Don’t you mind?”
“Yes, I mind. I don’t do it if I don’t have to. But I’ve never shot anyone when it wouldn’t have been a lot worse not to.”
“Do you remember the first time?”
“The time, not the person. It was in Korea. He was just a shape on a night patrol.”
“And it didn’t bother you?”
“Not as much as it would have if he’d shot me.”
“It’s always in context for you, isn’t it?”
“What. Right and wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that ethical relativism?”
“I think so,” I said. “Can you shoot if you have to?”
“Yes,” Candy said. “I believe I can.”
Chapter 15
WE WENT DOWN to the hall of justice the next afternoon and spent an hour and a half explaining to Samuelson that our investigation of the moving picture business had nothing to do with Mickey Rafferty’s death. I don’t think Samuelson believed it, but there was nothing much that he could do about it, and he knew it and he knew we knew it so he ushered us out after an hour and a half with a fair amount of grace. Candy drove us up over what was left of Bunker Hill and down to Fifth Street and then to Figueroa and then onto Wilshire.
“I know it’s dumb,” I said, “but I kind of like downtown L.A.”
