“Well… why’d you think he’d be here?”
“It was just a hunch.”
“Hunch, shit. Pete said he wasn’t giving out this number.”
“Your brother gave it to me.”
“Well… shit… he wasn’t supposed–”
“Thanks, Fred. I’ll call Pete in New Orleans.”
The line went dead. Turentine hung up dead finessed and dead scared.
Kemper watched the second hand circle his watch. His shirt sleeves were soaked clear through.
Pete would do it Pete wouldn’t do it. Pete was his longtime partner, which constituted proof of–
Nothing.
Business was business. Jack got between them. Call it the Triangle Twist: Jack, Pete and Barb what’s-her-name.
Kemper dialed the switchboard. The operator redialed the LAPD.
Payne answered. “Records and Information.”
“It’s Kemper Boyd, Sergeant.”
Payne laughed. “And an hour to the second.”
“Did you find out anything else?”
“Yeah, I did. Beverly Hills PD arrested the Jahelka girl for extortion in August 1960.”
Jesus God–
“Details?”
“The girl and her ex-husband tried to shake down Rock Hudson with some sex pictures.”
“Of Hudson and the girl?”
“That’s correct. They demanded some money, but Hudson went to the police. The girl and her ex were arrested, but Hudson retracted the charges.”
Kemper said, “It stinks.”
Payne said, “To high heaven. A friend of mine on the BHPD said the whole thing was some sort of ploy to establish Hudson as a pussy hound, when he’s really some kind of homo. He heard a rumor that Hush-Hush was behind the whole thing.”
Kemper put the phone down. His little palpitations almost cut his breath off.
LENNY–
o o o
He caught a 1:45 connector to La Guardia. He popped four Dexedrine and chased them with two in-flight martinis.
The flight took three and a half hours. Kemper shredded cocktail napkins and checked his watch every few minutes.
They landed on time. Kemper caught a cab outside the terminal. He told the driver to cruise by the Carlyle and drop him at 64th and Fifth.
Rush-hour traffic crawled. The Carlyle run ate up an hour.
94 East 76th Street was fifty yards from the hotel. It was an ideal apartment/listening-post location.
The cabbie swung south and dropped him outside Laura’s building. The doorman was busy with a tenant.
Kemper ran into the lobby. An old lady held the elevator for him.
He hit “12.” The old lady backed away. He saw his gun in his hand and tried to remember unholstering it.
He tucked it in his waistband. The old lady hid behind a huge handbag. The ride up took forever.
The door opened. Laura had redecorated the foyer–a complete French Provincial makeover.
Kemper walked through it. The elevator zoomed up behind him. He heard laughter on the terrace.
He ran toward the sound. Throw rugs snagged under his feet. He took the last hallway at a sprint and knocked over two lamps and an end table.
They were standing. They were holding drinks and cigarettes. They looked like they weren’t quite breathing.
Laura, Lenny and Claire.
They looked funny. They looked like they didn’t quite know him.
He saw his gun out. He saw the trigger at half-pull.
He said something about shaking down Jack Kennedy.
Claire said “Dad?” like she wasn’t quite sure.
He aimed at Lenny.
Claire said, “Dad, please.”
Laura dropped her cigarette. Lenny flicked his cigarette at him and smiled.
The tip burned his face. Ashes singed his suitcoat He steadied his aim and pulled the trigger.
The gun jammed.
Lenny smiled.
Laura screamed.
Claire’s scream made him turn tail and run.
83
(New Orleans, 5/12/62)
Bullshit flowed bilateral. Banister’s office was submerged in right-wing rebop.
Guy said the Klan bombed some churches. Pete said Heshie Ryskind had cancer.
Boyd’s Clip Castro Team was all-time elite. Dougie Frank Lockhart was one elite gun runner.
Pete said Wilfredo Delsol fucked Santo Junior on a dope deal. The fucker got fucked back by fucker or fuckers unknown.
Banister sipped bourbon. Pete goosed the charade along. Say, Guy, what have you heard about this?
Guy said he heard bubkes. No shit, Sherlock–this line of talk is all shuck and jive.
Pete sprawled in a chair and played with a tall Jack Daniel’s. He took little medicinal sips for migraine relief.