AMERICAN TABLOID by James Ellroy

Pete walked in. Delsol said, “Hola, Pedro.”

Pete sucker-punched him. Delsol jackknifed. Pete dropped the radio in the sink.

Water fizzed. Pete kicked Delsol in the ass and shot him into sink water up to his elbows.

He screamed. He pulled his arms out and cut loose with this godawful shriek.

Steam whooshed through the kitchen–dig that baby mushroom cloud.

Pete shoved the dishrag in his mouth. Delsol’s arms were scorched bright red and hairless.

“You’ve been calling Trafficante, Giancana and some proCastro guys. You’ve been seen with some left-wing Cubans, and you’ve been spending money.”

Delsol flipped him off. Dig that firecracker-red “Fuck You” finger.

“I think most of the Outfit’s quits on the Cause, and I want to know why. You put all this together or your face goes into the water.”

Delsol spat the rag out. Pete lashed his hands with the aircooler cord and rabbit-punched him back into the suds.

He spun in sideways. Juiced-up water splashed all over him.

He screamed and pulled his arms out. Pete dragged him to the fridge and buried his hands in ice cubes.

Stabilize, fucker–don’t go into shock.

Pete dumped loose cubes into a bowl. Delsol untied the cord with his teeth and wiggled his hands in.

The sink water bubbled and fizzed. Pete lit a cigarette to kill the charred-flesh stink.

Delsol slumped into a chair. His cardiac flush subsided–the puto radiated good resistance.

Pete said, “Well?”

Delsol hugged the bowl with his knees. Ice popped out and hit the floor.

Pete said, “Well?”

“Well, you killed my cousin. Did you think I would always stay loyal?”

His voice stayed just short of a whimper. Spics withstood pain with the best.

“That’s not the answer I wanted.”

“I thought it was a good answer for a man who killed his own brother by mistake.”

Pete picked up a kitchen knife. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

Delsol double-flipped him. Dig those two “Fuck You” fingers shedding skin down to the knuckle.

Pete stabbed the chair. The blade ripped a trouser seam half an inch from Delsol’s balls.

Delsol pulled the knife loose and dropped it on the floor. Pete said, “Well?”

“Well, I suppose I must tell you.”

“Keep going, then. Don’t make me work so hard.”

Delsol smiled. Delsol was exhibiting fucking epic machismo. “You were right, Pedro. Giancana and Mr. Santo have abandoned La Causa.”

“What about Carlos Marcello?”

“No. He is not with them. He is still enthusiastic.”

“What about Heshie Ryskind?”

“He is not with them either. I have heard he is very ill.”

“Santo is still backing the Cadre.”

Delsol smirked. Blisters started bubbling up on his arms.

“I think he will withdraw his support soon. I am certain it will happen.”

Pete chained cigarettes. “Who else has betrayed the Cadre?”

“I do not consider what I did betrayal. The man you used to be would not consider it that, either.”

Pete flipped his cigarette in the sink. “Just answer my questions. I don’t want to hear your extraneous comments.”

Delsol said, “All right. I am the only one in this.”

“‘This’?”

Delsol shivered. A big blister on his neck popped and spritzed blood.

“Yes. This is what you thought it was.”

“Explain it for me, then.”

Delsol stared at his hands. “I mean that Mr. Santo and the others have gone over to Fidel. They are just pretending enthusiasm for La Causa, to impress Robert Kennedy and other powerful officials. They are hoping Kennedy will learn about their support and not try to hurt them so hard. Raul Castro is selling them heroin very cheaply. In exchange, they have given him information on the exile movement.”

Heroin was MONEY. His theory was confirmed straight down the line.

“Keep going. I know there’s more.”

Delsol did a little blank-face number. Pete stared at him. Pete held the stare and held it and held it–

Delsol blinked. “Yes, there is more. Radl is trying to convince Fidel to let Mr. Santo and the others reopen their casinos in Havana. Mr. Santo and Mr. Sam promised they would inform Raul on the progress at JM/Wave and try to warn them of any assassination attempts on Fidel.”

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 *