My Dark Places - James Ellroy [122]
We ran Michael Whittaker. We got a DMV hit and a DOJ hit for a Michael John Whittaker. We got a 1986 address in San Francisco. The DOJ printout listed a CII number and a 1/1/34 date of birth.
I opened up my briefcase and checked the Ellroy Blue Book. Whittaker’s middle name was John.
Bill wrote down the CII number and gave it to a clerk. She said she’d order a copy of Whittaker’s rap sheet and his current address statistics.
John Yarbrough walked up. He handed Bill a memo slip. He said he called a guy on the Vegas PD. The guy called a guy on the Nevada Gaming Commission. They found Lavonne Chambers’ casino employment record. They called the Nevada State DMV and got the whole ball of wax.
Lavonne Chambers was now Lavonne Parga. She just renewed her driver’s license. She lived in Reno, Nevada.
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Bill wanted to hit Lavonne Chambers clean. He didn’t want to call and request an interview. He wanted to hit her before she had time to think and formulate answers.
We flew to Reno. We got two rooms at a Best Western. The desk clerk gave us a map. We rented a car and drove to Lavonne Chambers’ last known address.
It was outside Reno proper. The area was semi-rural and semi-run-down. Everybody had a truck or a four-wheel-drive camper. The vehicles looked good. The houses looked bad.
We knocked on Lavonne Chambers’ door. A man opened up. Bill badged him and explained our situation. The man said Lavonne was his mother. She was at the Washoe County Medical Center. She had these bad asthma attacks.
The man remembered the murder. He was just a toddler then. He said he’d call his mother and prepare her.
He gave us directions to the hospital. We got there inside ten minutes. A nurse walked us to Lavonne Chambers’ room.
She was sitting up in bed. She had an oxygen tube in her nose. She didn’t look sick. She looked tough and sturdy.
She looked astonished.
Bill and I introduced ourselves. Bill stated his police affiliation. I said I was Jean Ellroy’s son. Lavonne Chambers stared at me. I shaved 36 years off of her and put her in a red-and-gold Stan’s Drive-in outfit. I felt a little shaky. I took a chair uninvited.
Bill sat down beside me. The bed was a few feet in front of us. I got out a notepad and pen. Lavonne said my mother was beautiful. Her voice was strong. She didn’t gasp or wheeze.
I thanked her. She said she felt so darn guilty. Carhops were supposed to jot down license plate numbers. The procedure helped the cops apprehend check dodgers. She never wrote down that plate number. My mother and the man looked respectable. She never regretted anything one iota as much.
I asked her how well she remembered that evening. She said she remembered it good. She used to replay her memories like a broken record. She wanted to be sure she remembered everything.
Bill asked her some background questions. I knew he was testing her. Her answers jibed with the background details in the file.
Bill said, Let’s go back. Lavonne said okay. She described my mother and the Swarthy Man for starters. She said my mother had red hair. She said she served my mother and the Swarthy Man twice. She couldn’t put their visits in chronological perspective. The cops thought the killer was local. She kept glancing around every night she worked at the drive-in. She kept her eyes peeled for years.
Bill mentioned the Bobbie Long murder. Lavonne said she didn’t know it. I said the same man might have killed Bobbie Long. Lavonne asked me when she was killed. I said 1/23/59. Lavonne said she talked to the cops all that summer. They fell out of touch way before January.
Bill mentioned the ’62 lineup. Lavonne’s memories clashed with established Blue Book facts. She said it was a one-man lineup. She said she was the only witness. She confirmed her basic Blue Book statement.