The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [167]
He called Bayard. He dittoed the news. He said a gas main blew. He cited fake sources. Bayard expressed gratitude. Bayard expressed belief. He lied. He lied deftly. He acted late.
The church blew. His late fees accrued—fees for his dead and maimed.
He saw the maimed. Some Feds saw him. Said Feds might inform Mr. Hoover. He got drunk. He killed Chuck. He got sober. He still wanted it. He still tasted it. Liquor signs glowed.
He killed Chuck. He slept twelve hours. He woke up to this: End it. Leave the Life. Cut and run when you can.
Sam said yes. Sam gave his blessing. Sam had stipulations. Carlos might say yes. Carlos might have stipulations.
Tithes/stipulations/election years.
He served Mr. Hoover. They colluded. It spawned BLACK RABBIT. It spawned WILD RABBIT. It spawned dead and maimed. He killed Chuck. Pete braced WILD RABBIT. It was catch-up penance. It was wholly insufficient.
The lake glowed. Cruise boats cruised. He saw bow lights. He saw dance bands. He saw women.
Jane was war now. Jane outflanked him. Jane knew him before he knew her. She knew he stole. She knew he bagged money. She knew he played covert tapes.
She went through his papers. He caught her at it. They retreated. They quashed talk. They quashed confrontations.
Jane had plans. He knew it. She might want to hurt him. She might want to use him. She might want to know him more.
It scared him. It moved him. It made him want her more.
A boat drew close. A band played. A blue dress twirled. Janice wore dresses like that.
She was still bawdy. It was still good. She still served up stories and sex.
She dished Wayne Senior. The details scared him. Wayne Senior was FATHER RABBIT. Janice dished him. Janice loathed him. Janice still felt his hold.
The boat cruised by. The blue dress vanished. Littell called the Sands. Janice was out. Littell called the DI. Littell checked his messages.
One message: Call Lyle Holly—he’s at the Riv. Shit—WHITE RABBIT wants you.
Littell got the number. Littell put the call off. Littell prepped a tape. Littell grabbed a spool.
Sam scared him. Sam waxed profane. Bobby/cocksucker/rue the fucking day.
Littell prepped his tape-rig. Littell memory-laned.
Chicago, 1960—the Phantom loves Bobby. Chicago, 1965—Bobby lives on tape.
79
(Las Vegas, 7/20/65)
Tiger teemed.
Scribes pressed Sonny—give us quotes—rag that punk Cassius X. Sonny ignored them. Sonny quaffed Chivas. Sonny pawed mink coats.
Donkey Dom stole them. Donkey Dom sold them. Donkey Dom name-dropped. I pop fur shops/I bone Rock Hudson/I poke Sal Mineo.
His bun boy sulked. His bun boy griped hypocritical. His bun boy pimped drag queens full-time.
Wayne watched. Barb watched.
Dom shagged calls. His bun boy buzzed drivers. They juked the noon rush. Sonny bought mink mittens. Sonny bought mink jockstraps. Sonny bought mink earmuffs.
A scribe said, “Are those furs hot?”
Sonny said, “Your mama’s hot. I’m your daddy.”
A scribe said, “Why don’t you join the civil-rights movement?”
Sonny said, “ ’cause I ain’t got no dog-proof ass.”
The scribes yukked. Wayne yukked. Barb walked out to the lot. She popped pills. She chased them. She chugged flat 7-Up.
Wayne walked out. Wayne braced her in close.
“Pete’s rotating back. You start flying the second he’s gone.”
Barb stepped back. “Think about what you do, and tell me you disapprove then.”
Wayne stepped close. “Look who we sell to.”
“Look at me. Do I look like one of the junkie whores you’ve created?”
“I’m looking. I’m seeing lines you didn’t have a year ago.”
Barb laughed. “I’ve earned them. I’ve got fifteen years in the Life.”
Wayne stepped back. “You’re dodging me.”
“No. I’m just saying I’ve been around longer, and I know how things work better than you.”
“Tell Pete that. He won’t buy it, but tell him anyway.”
Barb stepped close. “You’re hooked, not me. You’re hooked on the Life, and you still don’t know how it works.”
Wayne stepped close. They bumped knees. Wayne smelled Barb’s soap.
“You’re just pissed that there’s no place in it for you.”
Barb stepped back. “You’re going