The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [81]
That’s it. Shove your threats. I refuse to hurt Bobby. You’re sick. You’re fucked up. Bobby’s your sickness.
Littell retreated:
That’s it. No more. I promise you. I’ll lie to Carlos. I’ll say we failed.
Eversall walked then. Eversall tripped. His high shoe buckled and slid. Littell helped him up. Eversall slapped him. Eversall spat in his face.
Littell played the 1/29 tape. Low static/spool hum.
Bobby planned trials. Eversall took notes. Bobby yawned and digressed. His potential Senate run. The VP spot. That “cornpone son-of-a-bitch Lyndon Johnson.”
Bobby had a cold. Bobby waxed profane. LBJ was a “dipshit.” Dick Nixon was a “numbnuts” with a “kick-me sign.” Mr. Hoover was a “psycho fruitcake.”
Littell pressed Rewind. The tape reversed. Littell played the 2/5 tape.
Here’s Bobby—reverent now.
He toasted Jack. He quoted Housman: “To an Athlete Dying Young.” Eversall sniffled. Bobby laughed—“Don’t go soft on me.”
A new man spoke. Static fizzed his words. Littell heard his garbled “Hoover and King.”
Bobby said, “Hoover’s scared. He knows King’s got balls like J.C.”
38
(Las Vegas, 2/10/64)
Monarch rocked.
The noon rush / mucho calls / ten cabs out. The hut rocked—Eldon Peavy had guests.
Sonny Liston. Four bad-boy jigs. Conrad & the Congoites or Marvin & the Mau-Maus.
Pete watched.
He dipped his seat. He ran the heat. He did arithmetic. Peavy had twenty cabs. Peavy ran three shifts. Add airport runs and deadheads.
The hut rocked. A driver hawked fur coats. The Mau-Maus mauled them. Sonny fanned a roll. Peavy peeled bills off.
The Congoites capered. They fondled fur. They manhandled mink. They chewed up chinchilla.
Sonny looked bad. The Clay fight boded. Sonny had the odds. Sam G. demurred. Sam liked Clay. Sam said Sonny had habits.
It was cold. Brrr—Vegas winters. Pete shivered and goosed the heat.
Texas was cold. Florida ditto. He just got back from his trip. He didn’t find Hank K. He didn’t find Wendell Durfee. He traveled alone. He schemed a trifecta.
Plan A: Find and clip Hank. Plan B: Detain Durfee. Plan C: Bring Wayne in to kill him.
No tickee/no washee. No find/go seek.
He got back. He called Ward. He pitched him: I want to buy Monarch Cab. Ward nixed it. Ward said don’t bid. Ward said don’t extort ownership.
We need Peavy. We need his votes. Don’t scotch his gaming-board status. Sage fucking advice—Ward Littell–style.
Pete skimmed the radio. Pete watched the hut. Peavy quaffed gin. The Mau-Maus quaffed scotch-and-milk. Sonny dumped capsules. Sonny made lines. Sonny sniffed powder up.
Peavy walked out. Sonny strolled with him. The Congoites conga’d. They slurped milk. They grew white goatees. Spooks called scotch-and-milk “pablum.”
A stretch pulled up. The crew piled in. The stretch pulled out. Pete tailed it slow.
The stretch hooked west. The stretch stopped quick. There—the Honey Bunny Casino.
Peavy got out. Peavy walked in. Pete idled back. Pete scoped the window.
Peavy hit the chip cage. Peavy bought play chips. The cage man filled a sack. Peavy walked out. Peavy jumped in the stretch. The stretch pulled out fast.
Pete tailed it. It cut west. It stopped mucho quick. There—Sugar Bear Liquor.
Five whores ran out—darkies all—prom gowns and heels.
They piled in the stretch. They huffed hard. The windows fogged up. The stretch wiggled and bounced.
Said whores worked.
The axle scraped. The shocks creaked. The undercarriage shimmied. Two hubcaps popped off and rolled.
Pete laughed. Pete fucking roared.
The whores piled out. The whores giggled and wiped their lips. The whores waved sawbucks.
Pete flashed on the dead whore. Pete smelled the torched trailer.
The stretch pulled out. Pete tailed it. They cut west. They hit West Vegas. They went in waay deep. There—Monroe High School.
The back gate was down. The bleachers were packed. A banner read: Welcome Champ!
Full house:
Colored kids—two hundred strong—this big schoolday treat.
The stretch parked on the football field. Pete idled by the gate. Pete kicked