The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [55]
RFK: You’re being naive. Hoover and Johnson know what’s best for the country, and they spell it “Whitewash.” (Pause: 2.6 seconds) They don’t care. There’s the people who care and the people who don’t. They’re all part of the same consensus.
DE: I care.
RFK: I know you do. Just don’t labor the point. This conversation is starting to embarrass me.
DE: I’m sor—
RFK: Jesus, don’t start that again.
(DE laughs.)
RFK: Will you stay on in Justice? If I resign, I mean.
DE: It depends on the new man. (Pause: 2.2 seconds) Are you going to?
RFK: Maybe. I’m just licking my wounds right now. (Pause: 1.6 seconds) Johnson might put me on the ticket. I’d take it if he asked, and some people want me to run for Ken Keating’s senate seat in New York.
DE: I’ll vote for you. I’ve got a summer place in Rhinebeck.
(RFK laughs.)
DE: I just wish there were something I could do.
RFK: Well, you made me feel better.
DE: I’m glad.
RFK: And you’re right. Something about the time-line feels suspicious.
DE: Yes, that’s—
RFK: We can’t bring my brother back, but I’ll tell you this, though. When the—(footsteps obscure conversation)—right I’ll jump on it, and devil take the hindmost.
(Door slam & footsteps. Tape terminates here.)
25
(Los Angeles, 1/9/64)
He bought Jane a wallet. Saks engraved it.
Soft kid. A lowercase “j.f.”
Jane fanned the sleeves. “You were right. I showed them my Alabama license, and they gave me a new one right there.”
Littell smiled. Jane smiled and posed. She leaned on the window. She jutted a hip out. She blocked off the view.
Littell pulled his chair up. “We’ll get you a Social Security card. You’ll have all the ID you need.”
Jane smiled. “What about a master’s degree? You got me the B.A. already.”
Littell crossed his legs. “You could go to UCLA and earn one.”
“How about this? I could divide my studies between L.A., D.C., and Vegas, just to keep up with my peripatetic lover.”
Littell smiled. “Was that a jibe?”
“Just an observation.”
“You’re getting restless. You’re overqualified for a life of leisure.”
Jane pirouetted. Jane dipped low and stood on her toes. She was good. She was lithe. She’d studied somewhere.
Littell said, “Some people from the safe house have disappeared. That’s good news more than bad.”
Jane shrugged. Jane scissored low. Her skirt brushed the floor.
“Where did you learn that?”
Jane said, “Tulane. I audited a dance class, but you won’t see it on my transcript.”
Littell sat on the floor. Jane scissored up to him.
“I want to find a job. I was a good bookkeeper, even before you improved my credentials.”
Littell stroked her feet. Jane wiggled her toes.
“You could find me something at Hughes Aircraft.”
Littell shook his head. “Mr. Hughes is very disturbed. I’m working against him on some levels, and I want to keep you out of that side of my life.”
Jane grabbed her cigarettes. “Any other ideas?”
“I could get you work with the Teamsters.”
Jane shook her head. “No. That’s not me.”
“Why?”
She lit a cigarette. Her hand shook.
“It’s just not. I’ll find a job, don’t worry.”
Littell traced her stocking runs. “You’ll do better than that. You’ll excel and upstage everyone you work with.”
Jane smiled. Littell pinched out her cigarette. He kissed her. He touched her hair. He saw a new gray.
Jane pulled his tie off. “Tell me about the last woman you were with.”
Littell cleaned his glasses. “Her name was Helen Agee. She was a friend of my daughter’s. I got in trouble with the Bureau and Helen was the first casualty.”
“She left you?”
“She ran, yes.”
“What kind of trouble were you in?”
“I underestimated Mr. Hoover.”
“That’s all you’ll tell me?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to Helen?”
“She’s a legal-aid lawyer. The last I heard, my daughter was, too.”
Jane kissed him. “We have to be who we decided to be in Dallas.”
Littell said, “Yes.”
Jane fell asleep. Littell feigned sleep. Littell got up slow.
He walked to his office. He set up his tape rig. He poured some coffee.
He nailed Doug Eversall. He called him yesterday. He threatened him. He crossed the line.
He said don’t call