The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [59]
Webb Spurgeon lived behind the Tropicana. Webb Spurgeon’s pad brushed the golf course. Webb Spurgeon lived bland. Webb Spurgeon stayed home. Webb Spurgeon chauffeured his son.
Wayne watched his front door. Wayne fought the sitting-tail blues.
He yawned. He scratched his ass. He pissed in a milk can. The car smelled. His aim strayed. He sprayed the dash sometimes.
Spurgeon was a yawn. Duane Hinton was a snore. Eldon Peavy was a faggy snooze. The job was shit. Buddy Fritsch wanted dirt. Pete suborned him in. Fritsch met with Butch Montrose—it vibed payoff.
The job was shit. He worked it anyway. He mixed-and-matched. He juggled his tailees.
Hinton stayed home. Hinton drove to his work sites. Peavy logged time at Monarch Cab. The job was shit. Wayne worked it hard. Wayne cranked twenty hours a day.
Lynette bugged him. Lynette torqued him hard. Lynette found his Dallas paper stash. He lied. He said don’t bug me. He said it’s Moore and Durfee—I’m just tracking the case.
She tripped him up. She nailed his lies. She made him run. He worked his shit tail job. He gauged potential results.
Hide would-be dirt. Fuck Fritsch and Pete—file a fake report. Play ball. File the goods. Hide out at the Sultan’s Lounge. Hide from your wife. Hide from Wayne Senior and his fuck film.
Wayne yawned. Wayne stretched. Wayne scratched his balls. Webb Spurgeon walked out. Webb Spurgeon locked his front door. Webb Spurgeon shagged his Olds 88.
Log it: 2:21 p.m.
Spurgeon drove south. Wayne tailed him. Spurgeon hit I-95. Wayne hit the fast lane. They both drove 50-plus.
Spurgeon signaled. His blinker blinked. He pulled off the freeway. He hit Henderson ramp #1. He drove surface streets. Wayne tailed him semi-tight.
They hit the Mormon Temple. Wayne logged the time: 2:59 p.m.
Spurgeon walked in. Wayne parked catty-corner. Time sitting-tail dragged.
Thirteen minutes. Fourteen/fifteen.
Spurgeon walked out. Wayne logged it: 3:14 p.m.
They backtracked. They hit 95 North. They jumped on two car lengths apart. Wayne hovered back. Wayne slacked his leash. Wayne tailed long-distance.
They drove back to Vegas. They stopped at Jordan High. Weird—Webb Junior went to LeConte.
Spurgeon parked. Wayne parked two slots back. Kids walked by. Spurgeon covered his face.
4:13 p.m.:
A girl walks up. Said girl looks around. Said girl gets in daddy-o’s car.
Spurgeon pulled out. Wayne snapped the leash. Wayne tailed him half-tight. The girl bobbed her head down. The car swerved and weaved. The girl bobbed her head up.
She wiped her lips. She fixed her face. She teased her hair up.
They hit 95 South. They cut toward Hoover Dam. They drove through the shitkicker sticks. Traffic thinned. Wayne slacked out the leash.
Spurgeon turned left. Spurgeon hauled up a dirt road. Wayne parked by some scrub pines. Wayne grabbed his binoculars.
He tracked up. He framed shots. He caught a split-rail cabin. The car sliced into the frame. The girl got out. She was sixteen tops. She ran long on hairspray and zits.
Spurgeon got out. The girl jumped on him. They walked inside. Wayne logged the time: 5:09 p.m. Wayne logged stat rape and contributing—two Class B felonies.
Wayne watched the cabin. Wayne watched his watch. He set up his Leica. He fixed the tripod. He slapped on the zoom doohickey.
They fucked for 51 minutes. Wayne shot their exit drape. They kissed long and wet. He got their tongues in tight.
Wayne parked by Monarch Cab. Wayne logged in at 6:43.
The hut sagged. The roof drooped. Cinder blocks creaked. The lot was dusty. The fleet was old—three-tone Packards exclusive.
Wayne watched the window. Eldon Peavy ran cabs. Eldon Peavy worked a two-way box. Eldon Peavy dealt solitaire.
Drivers bopped through. Wayne made three felons—fruit rollers all. One guy beat Murder One. Said guy shivved a he-she at a drag queen ball. Said guy proved self-defense.
Cabs rolled out. The pistons knocked. The mufflers coughed. The pipes shot fumes. The Monarch logo gleamed:
A little man with a big crown. Red dice for teeth.
Wayne yawned. Wayne stretched. Wayne scratched