The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [152]
Barb pressed him. Barb tripped him up. Barb nailed his lies. He said fuck it. He cut loose. He disclosed.
Barb said, “All that for Cuba?”
They got some rays. They ran into Jimmy H. They went out for stone crabs. Jimmy fumed. Jimmy fugued. Jimmy ran nonstop boo-hoo.
His legal woes. Sam G. in stir. His ripe hemorrhoids.
Pete bored in. Pete pumped him. Pete worked his mood. Pete pumped angles. Pete pumped oblique.
It’s Kansas City. It’s ’56. Danny Bruvick fucks you.
Jimmy cut loose—six fucks!/six cocksuckers!/six Arden cunts! Jimmy dished on Arden. Jimmy tossed a bomb:
Arden Bruvick—that cunt—she was Jules Schiffrin’s ex.
Pete said, “Excuse me.” Pete walked to the john. Pete found a throne. Pete sat down. Pete hashed it all through.
Jules Schiffrin—Mob money man—dead in ’60. The “real” fund books—Schiffrin’s property. Arden Bruvick: bookkeeper.
It’s ’56. It’s K.C. Danny Bruvick splits. Jimmy fugues out. Cops bust Arden. The T&C Corp bails her. Carlos M. owns T&C.
Cut to:
’59—New Orleans—J.P. Mesplède passes through. Mesplède sees Arden—with some Carlos goon.
Cut to:
1960—Wisconsin—Ward Littell steals the books. Schiffrin heart-attacks and drops dead.
Cut to:
Fall ’63. Carlos taps Ward. Carlos says this:
You got the books. Jimmy don’t know it. The Boys and I do. We know you. We own you. You’ll sell Drac our hotels. You’ll work the books. You’ll dredge up data. You’ll funnel skim through.
Cut to:
Dallas—hit time—Arden meets Ward. She works for Jack Ruby. She keeps his books. She’s seen the safe house. She’s seen the targets. She’s seen the crew.
Ward falls for Arden. Carlos wants her dead. Ward makes Arden “Jane.” Ward hides “Jane.” Ward brews fund-book schemes.
So:
Did Carlos find Arden? Did Carlos pledge mercy? IF YOU SPY ON LITTELL? Arden was a bookkeeper. Arden knew Schiffrin. Arden lived with Littell.
Sound logic, but:
He saw Ward with “Jane.” They were real. He knew it.
It scared him. He teethed on it. He riffed: Real deals with women could be undercut—and thus shot to shit.
Barb saw him pump Jimmy. Barb gauged his john run. Barb got halfway hip. He filled her in. He abridged it. He omitted Carlos. He omitted Big D.
Barb loved it. Barb loved secrets. Barb held them tough. They discussed it. He told her—I’ll probe up more stuff.
He called Fred Otash. Otash weighed in. Otash said I’m on it—don’t sweat. I’ll buy more cops. I’ll put out more search fees. My cops will check files and call back.
They schmoozed. Otash had news. Otash said Ward hired him. Ward craved dirt. Ward bought a dirt search—let’s find the old scandal-rag files.
Pete riffed on his Arden search. Pete said don’t tell Ward—don’t clue Ward in. Otash played ball. Otash had Arden pix already. Otash knew Arden was Jane.
Pete teethed on it. Pete sifted it. Pete lived with it. Pete ran rotations.
Vegas was good—100%. White horse hits. The word expands. Clients accrue: Sniffers/tasters/junkies/skin-popper geeks.
The street pushers worked. The street pushers proselytized. They wore flash threads. They drove jig rigs. They glorified “H.” They glamorized it. They accessorized it. They Tupperwared it.
They cruised the projects. They drew crowds. They sniffed powdered milk and bopped strong. They debunked that addiction jive.
They wore pendants. They wore processed hair. They carried mock-gold guns. They lied. They said spooks ran the biz. They denied that the White Man existed.
Wayne tailed them. It scared them. They knew Wayne’s rep. Wayne Junior be baaaaaaaaaaaad. Wayne Junior kill our kin.
Profits accrued. Milt totaled them. Milt praised the horse epidemic. It was restricted. It was contained. No whites need apply.
A dope punk moved in. Said punk brought ambition. Said punk sniffed the air. Said punk sniffed the wrong vibration:
Horse is cool—let’s sell some—the Mob don’t mind.
Pete dispatched his niggers. Said niggers grabbed said punk.
Santo T. had a shark named Batista. He lived in Santo’s pool. He ate burgers. He ate steak. He ate pizza.
The niggers dropped the punk