The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [78]
WJL: Thank you, Sir.
JEH: I understand that he has asked you to lunch.
WJL: Yes, Sir. We haven’t scheduled yet.
JEH: He thinks you’re weak. I told him that you are a bold and occasionally reckless man who has learned the value of restraint.
WJL: Thank you, Sir.
JEH: Dwight feels quite ambivalent. He got the job he wanted, but he’s developed quite a dislike for Wayne Junior. My sources in the U.S. Attorney’s Office tell me that he is determined to bypass Senior and do Junior some harm in the long run.
WJL: Despite his friendship with Senior?
JEH: Or because of it. You never know with Dwight. He’s quite the provocateur and the rogue, so I indulge him.
WJL: Yes, Sir.
JEH: The same way I indulge you.
WJL: I caught the implication, Sir.
JEH: You dislike Dwight and Wayne Senior, so I’ll give you added cause. Their fathers belonged to the same Klan Klavern in Indiana. That said, I should add that it was probably more genteel than the Klan groups currently marauding down south.
WJL: I’m sure they never lynched any Negroes.
JEH: Yes, although I’m certain they would have enjoyed it.
WJL: Yes, Sir.
JEH: Most people have entertained the notion. You must credit their restraint.
WJL: Yes, Sir.
JEH: You might discuss the Indiana Klan with Bayard Rustin. I want you to make another donation.
WJL: I’ll bring it up, Sir. I’m sure he’ll acknowledge it as a genteel institution.
JEH: You are assuredly frisky today.
WJL: I hope I haven’t offended you, Sir.
JEH: Anything but. And I hope I haven’t offended you with Junior.
WJL: Sir?
JEH: I had to throw Dwight Holly a bone. He wanted Junior expelled from the LVPD, so I arranged it.
WJL: I assumed that you had, Sir. The newspapers were kind, though. They said he resigned.
JEH: Did you befriend Junior to get at his files? For Mr. Hughes’ sake?
WJL: Yes, Sir.
JEH: I’m sure that Senior will enjoy Junior’s expulsion. They have an odd relationship.
WJL: Yes, Sir.
JEH: Good day, Mr. Littell. I’ve enjoyed this conversation.
WJL: Good day, Sir.
35
(Las Vegas, 2/7/64)
The Lincoln gleamed. New paint/new chrome/new leather.
The car jazzed him. The car distracted him. He kept seeing Lynette. Flaps and sheared ribs. Durfee’s knife severed bone.
Pete cruised. Pete tried gadgets. The lighter worked. The heater worked. The seats reclined.
Vegas looked good. Cool air hits mountains and sunshine. Secure-the-Vote Day—one down so far.
He muscled Webb Spurgeon. He explained stat-rape statutes. He detailed consent laws. Spurgeon gulped. Spurgeon kowtowed. Spurgeon pledged votes.
All good so far. One down—two to go.
Pete drove by Monarch Cab. Pete got electrified. Dollar signs boogied and bipped.
Cabs peeled in. Cabs peeled out. Cabs refueled. Drivers ate pills. Drivers drank lunch. Drivers palmed waistband gats.
Monarch Cab. Maybe: Tiger Kab redux.
A cash base. A racket hub. Bent personnel. Monarch as Tiger—hold that heady thought.
Pete cruised. Pete meandered. Pete hit West LV. Pete checked out that vacant lot.
There’s the trailer. The paint’s gone. The shell’s cracked. The siding’s all scorched.
A kid walked up. Pete jollied him. The kid sermonized.
The trailer smell bad. That be wrong. Somethin’ dead be inside. This dude torch it. The stink go. He burn the stink out. No cops come. No firemen. Somethin’ dead still be in there.
The kid buzzed off. Pete scoped the trailer. A breeze kicked up. The trailer creaked. Paint chips cracked and blew.
Pete cruised. Pete meandered. Pete drove south. Pete hit Duane Hinton’s house.
He parked. He walked up. He knocked on the door. He pulled out Wayne’s snapshot.
There’s a fat whore bound and gagged. She’s sucking a handball.
Hinton opened the door. Pete flashed the photo eye-level.
Hinton plotzed. Pete grabbed his hair. Pete raised one knee. Pete broke his nose up.
Hinton went down. Bones cracked. Cartilage blew.
Pete decreed:
Vote our way. Do not touch whores. Do not hurt whores. Do not kill whores—OR I’LL KILL YOU.
Hinton tried to talk. Hinton gagged. Hinton bit