THE BLACK MARBLE

The gross-funny-ugly L.A. Police Dept. jungle gym that was Wambaugh's Choirboys is just background this time—terrific background for two so-so stories: the grisly kidnapping of a dog-show champion by an off-the-wall dog trainer; the predictably offbeat hate-then-love affair between an all-at-sea detective on the way down and an all-together woman detective on the way up. The two stories will eventually mesh, but for a while they alternate with teasing efficiency—first introducing impoverished Pasadena divorcee Madeline Dills Whitfield, obsessive, love-starved owner of beloved schnauzer Victoria Regina; then the odd couple in the cop-car—sweetly spaced-out, vodka-soaked Valnikov ("the non-sequitur king of the whole goddam police department") and his appalled new partner Natalie Zimmerman; and, finally, supercreep dog-man Philo Skinner, overage stud manque, with dangerous gambling debts, a superfluous wife, and dreams of Puerto Vallarta. While Natalie desperately tries to convince the brass that Valnikov is a certifiable basket case, Philo manages to grab Vicky Regina at a dog-show and demands a ransom Madeline can't pay—which brings Sgt. Valnikov onto the case (and into Madeline's lonely bed). And by the time that Valnikov's solid, slogging detective work brings him face to face with Philo, a killer shepherd, and the mutilated schnauzer for a bloody, endless gouge-and-grapple, Natalie isn't so eager to see her "Andrushka" in a straitjacket. The Black Marble (that's what losers like Val and Philo always wind up with) should hive been better than it is: the police station running gags are too running to be real, the black-comic touches (like a pet funeral) prove again that Wambaugh ain't Waugh, and Andrushka and Natasha deserve better than a pure musical-comedy ending. But natural, strong, seductive storytellers aren't a dime a dozen, and Wambaugh's one of them—even while making a lot of mistakes as he reaches for a broader, less exclusively badges-and-guts audience.