AMERICAN TABLOID by James Ellroy

Devil’s Advoôate clicked in, automatically. “He’s known for years. He knows I’m seeing Laura, and he told me the facts of her parentage before she did.”

Bobby’s kids romped through the room. Jack shooed them out and toed the door shut.

“That voyeuristic little faggot cocksucker.”

Kemper ad-libbed. “He also knows about all your paternity buyouts, and most of your sustained affairs. Jack, I’m your best hedge against Hoover. He likes me and trusts me, and all he wants is to keep his job if you’re elected.”

Jack tapped a humidor on his chin. “Dad’s got himself halfconvinced that Hoover sent you over to spy on us.”

“Your dad’s no dummy.”

“What?”

“Hoover caught me skimming off a car-theft investigation and retired me early. I applied for the McClellan Committee job on my own, and Hoover started keeping tabs on me. He learned I was seeing Laura and asked me for information on you. I said no, and Hoover said, ‘You owe me one.’”

Jack nodded. His look said: Yes, I’ll buy that.

“Dad had a private detective follow you around Manhattan. The man said you keep a suite at the St. Regis.”

Kemper winked. “The way you live rubs off, Jack. I’ve got a pension, a salary and stock dividends, and I’m courting an expensive woman.”

“You’re in Florida a good deal.”

“Hoover has me spying on pro-Castro groups. It’s that ‘one’ I owe him.”

“That’s why you’re so hipped on Cuba as a campaign issue.”

“Right. I think Castro’s a goddamned menace, and I think you should take a hard line against him.”

Jack lit his cigar. His look said: Thank God this is over.

“I’ll tell Dad it’s all okay. He wants a promise, though.”

“Which is?”

“That you won’t marry Laura any time soon. He’s afraid reporters might get nosy.”

Kemper handed him the ring. “Keep this for me. I was planning to ask Laura tonight, but I guess I’ll have to wait until you’re elected.”

Jack slipped it in his pocket. “Thanks. Does this mean you’re out a Christmas gift?”

“I’ll pick something up in New York.”

“There’s an emerald pin under the tree there. Laura looks good in green, and Jackie won’t miss it.”

39

(South Bend, 12/25/59)

Littell got off the train and checked for tails.

The arrivals and departures looked normal–just Notre Dame kids and anxious parents. Some cheerleaders shivered–shortskirted pompom girls out in ten-degree weather.

The crowd dispersed. No platform loiterers stuck close to him. In a phrase: The Phantom sees phantoms.

Tail sightings were a probable booze-by-product. The clicks on his phone line were most likely overactive nerves.

He’d dismantled his two phones. He found no wiretap apparatus. The Mob couldn’t rig outside taps–only police agencies could. That man watching him and Mal Chamales last week-probably just a barfly tweaked by their left-of-center conversation.

Littell hit the station lounge and knocked back three rye-andbeers. Christmas dinner with Susan mandated fortification.

o o o

Amenities dragged. Talk bounced between safe topics.

Susan tensed when he hugged her. Helen steered clear of his hands. Claire had grown into a distaff Kemper–the resemblance had solidified amazingly.

Susan never addressed him by name. Claire called him “Ward baby”–Helen said she was in a Rat Pack phase. Susan smoked like her mother now–straight down to match flicks and exhales.

Her apartment mimicked Margaret’s: too many porcelain knickknacks and too much stiff furniture.

Claire played Sinatra records. Susan served diluted eggnog– Helen must have told her that her father drank to excess.

He said he hadn’t heard from Kemper in months. Claire smiled–she knew all her father’s secrets. Susan laid out dinner: Margaret’s boring glazed ham and sweet potatoes.

They sat down. Littell bowed his head and offered a prayer.

“O heavenly Father, we ask thy blessing on all of us, and on our absent friends. I commend to you the souls of three men recently departed, whose deaths were caused by arrogant if heartfelt attempts to facilitate justice. I ask you to bless all of us on this sacred day and in the year to come.”

Susan rolled her eyes and said “Amen.” Claire carved the ham; Helen poured wine.

The girls got full glasses. He got a splash. It was cheap Cabernet Sauvignon.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *