The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [36]
Wayne walked inside. Wayne detoured by the dressing room. Janice shot him a view.
Bare legs. A dance step. Streaked-hair allure.
15
(Las Vegas, 12/6/63)
Dallas tweaked him. He should have killed Junior. Junior should have killed the spook.
Vegas sparkled—fuck death—should-haves meant shit. Nice breeze/nice sun/nice casinos.
Pete cruised the Strip. Pete logged distractions:
The Tropicana course. Cocktail carts abundant. Drive-ins. Carhops on skates. Uplift abundant.
Pete made two circuits. Shit popped out:
Some nuns hit the Sands. They spot Frank Sinatra. They swoon and piss Frank off. They shvitz up his Sy Devore suit.
Grief by the Dunes:
Two cops grab two spics. The spics bleed very large. The scene vibes busboy brouhaha. Juan fucked Ramon’s sister. Ramon had first dibs. Shivs by the low-roller buffet.
Nice mountains. Neon signs. Jap-tourist shutterbugs.
Pete made three circuits. The Strip show wore thin. Pete re-tweaked Dallas.
BE USEFUL: Sacred fucking text. The Hughes deal would take years. Ward said so. Carlos agreed. Carlos said Pete should push dope in Vegas—but—the other Boys have to agree.
Ward was très smart. The Arden move was très dumb. Ward tripped on his dick—at a très bad time.
Ward was in D.C. and New Orleans. Jimmy H. wanted him. Carlos beckoned. Carlos wants to snip loose ends. Carlos wants Ward’s take. Carlos trusts Ward—but Ward always ridicules slaughter.
Arden saw the hit team. Arden knew Betty Mac. Arden knew Hank Killiam. A très safe bet: Carlos wants to clip them. A très safe bet: Ward calls it rash.
A bug was spreading. Call it the Mercy Flu. Call it the Me-No-Kill Blues.
He should have killed Junior. Junior should have killed the shine.
He watched Junior work. He climbed an adjacent hill. He got a covert view. Junior diced Maynard Moore. Junior cut through his brain pan. Junior pulled slugs. His knife slipped. He ate bone chips. He hacked them out and rocked steady.
He checked Junior out. Three intel squads: L.A./New York/Miami. His guys said Junior checked him out.
His contacts hated Junior. They said Wayne Senior was a stud. They said Wayne Junior was a geek.
Junior passed him the mercy bug. Junior let the nigger live. Junior misread his options. The nigger vibed stupe. The nigger vibed homing pigeon. The nigger might home back here.
Pete cruised. Pete checked lounge marquees. Pete got the gestalt.
Name acts. No-name acts. Dick Contino/Art & Dottie Todd/the Girlza-poppin’ Revue. Hank Henry/the Vagabonds/Freddy Bell & the Bellboys. The Persian Room/the Sky Room/the Top o’ the Strip.
Jack “Jive” Schafer/Gregg Blando/Jody & the Misfits. The Dome of the Sea/the Sultan’s Lounge/the Rumpus Room.
Call it: Toilets and carpet joints. Some high-end rooms. Call it for keeps:
Find Barb a spot. Find her some nonunion backup. Scotty & the Scabs or the Happy Horseshitters—a fixed rate and a cut.
Pete parked in the Sands lot. Pete hit some casinos—the Bird/the Riv/the DI. He caught a lull. Shit stood out boldfaced.
He played blackjack. He observed:
A pit boss bops on a card cheat. The fuck wears a card-sleeve prosthesis. The fuck shoots cards out his cuffs.
He saw Johnny Rosselli. They schmoozed. They talked up the Hughes deal. Johnny praised Ward Littell—dig the threat implied.
Ward’s crucial to our plans. You’re muscle—you’re not.
Johnny said ciao. Two call girls hovered. It vibed three-way.
Pete walked. Pete hit the Sands/the Dunes/the Flamingo. Pete dug the low lights and thick rugs.
Sparks shot off his feet. His socks bipped and buzzed.
He hit bars. He drank club soda. He honed his cave vision. He watched barmen work. Call girls ducked him. He was 6’5”/230. He vibed strongarm cop.
What’s this:
A barman pours pills—six in a shot glass—a waitress picks up.
He braced the barman. He flashed a toy badge. He growled very gruff. The barman laughed. His son wore a badge like that. His son ate Cocoa Puffs.
The man oozed style. Pete bought him a drink. The man spritzed on Vegas and dope.
Horse/weed/cocaine—verboten. The fuzz enforced the trifecta. The