Brown's Requiem - James Ellroy [88]
“I remember you,” he said, “from the Tap and Cap. You were looking for Fat Dog. What do you want?”
“I want to make sure the thing that happened to Fat Dog doesn’t happen to you.”
“What happened to Fat Dog?”
“He’s dead.” I grabbed my necktie, twisted it up to form a hangman’s noose and contorted my face. Augie grimaced. He was very scared. “A lot of people have been dying, Augie. Thanks to your old buddy, Hot Rod Ralston. You’re next unless you talk to me.”
“Hot Rod said that Fat Dog just got hurt.”
“The big hurt, the final one. Talk to me.”
Augie gulped and moved his feet in a little dance of fear. He was sweating now, but not from the heat, and I sensed that he wanted to talk. I went on. “I talked to the barman at the Tap and Cap this morning. He said you came up here to help the cops find out who killed those three caddies. The barman thought you were crazy, acting like a kid. But I don’t. I think you’re a good man and you’ve got a lot of guts. If we work together we can crack this thing. What do you say?”
“I say right on! I say Augie Dougall’s taken enough shit in his life. I say fuck ’em all and save six for the pall-bearers.”
“Good man. Let’s get out of this heat. I’ve got a car with air conditioning.”
We walked to the car. I locked us in and put the air on full. Augie fiddled with the seat release, finally pushing it all the way back to provide adequate leg room. He had at least three inches on me.
“A lot of people think you’re nothing but a big dummy, don’t they, Augie? But I know different. I’m a trained observer and I can tell intelligence when I see it, I’ll tell you what I’m interested in: Fat Dog, Ralston, some sort of Welfare scam and how it all ties in to Sol Kupferman. Be honest, Augie. I heard that conversation you had with Ralston yesterday. He means to hurt you, he thinks you’ve been lying to him. We can’t let that happen. I’ll start by laying my cards on the table. Fat Dog Baker firebombed the Club Utopia back in ’68. Let’s go from there.”
Augie went ashen faced. He started to cough and lit a cigarette. When he spoke his voice was breaking. “Jesus God. You know. And Hot Rod knows and God knows who else. Jesus.”
“How did you find out, Augie?”
“Fat Dog told me, when he was drunk. I believed him. He hated Kupferman because Kupferman was taking care of his sister. He used to get his rocks off by starting fires. I believed him.”
“Did you put Omar Gonzalez onto Ralston?”
“Yeah. I knew something funny was going on between Fat Dog and Hot Rod. Fat Dog gave Hot Rod a lot of shit, and Hot Rod’s a bad man to fuck with. Once they was having an argument at the first tee and Hot Rod says ‘Don’t forget what I know about you, you bastard.’ So I figured he knew. I figured if he knew, he might have written it down somewhere. That’s why I called Gonzalez. I remembered him from the Joe Pyne Show. I figured maybe I could get at Fat Dog and Hot Rod through him.”
“Why did you want to get back at them?”
“For treating me like a slave! Like a retardo! Always laughing at me for being so tall! Augie, the stick! But I’ll show them! I’ll get the scrapbook and name names! I’ll go to the police and be a hero! I’ll …”
I placed a gentle hand on his arm. “What do you know about this scrapbook, Augie? The first I heard about it was yesterday.”
“I don’t know nothing about it, except Burger Hansen and Bobby Marchion was killed for it. They was both old running partners with Fat Dog. Burger used to be in the golf ball business with him. That’s why they was killed. It’s got to be. They was just drunks and loopers. Nobody murders people like that. They used to get drunk and smoke dope under that embankment. They never hurt nobody. Now they’re dead. That’s wrong! It’s evil!”
“I agree. And the evil is about to stop.” I tried a stab in the dark: “Tell me about Ralston’s Welfare scam, Augie.”
Augie’s face went