“From Howard Hughes. Mr. Kennedy hates Hughes, so Laura took the name to annoy him.”
Littell closed his eyes. He started seeing things he wasn’t conjuring up.
“Ask Mr. Sands a question, Ward.”
An image flickered out–Lenny with his phallus-shaped pen.
“Ward, open your eyes and ask Mr. Sands a–”
Littell opened his eyes and took his glasses off. The room went soft and blurry.
“I saw you arguing with Mad Sal outside the church. What was that about?’
Lenny worked a tooth loose. “I tried to quit the junket gig.”
“Why?”
“Because Sal’s poison. Because he’s poison like you are.”
He sounded I’m-a-snitch-now resigned.
“But he didn’t let you quit?”
“No. I told him I’d work with him for six months tops, if he’s still…”
Kemper twirled his knucks. “If he’s still what?”
“Still fucking alive.”
He sounded calm. He sounded like an actor who just figured out his role.
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Because he’s a degenerate gambler. Because he owes Sam G. twelve grand, and a contract’s going out if he doesn’t pay it back.”
Littell put his glasses on. “I want you to stick with Sal, and let me worry about his debts.”
Lenny wiped his mouth on the cushion. That one knuck shot cut him a brand-new harelip.
Kemper said, “Answer Mr. Littell.”
Lenny said, “Oh yes, yes, Mr. Littell, sir”–arch-ugly-faggot inflected.
Kemper slipped the knucks into his waistband. “Don’t tell Laura Hughes about this. And don’t tell anybody about our arrangement.”
Lenny stood up, knock-kneed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Kemper winked. “You’ve got panache, son. And I know a magazine man in L.A. who could use an insider like you.”
Lenny pushed his lip flaps together. Littell sent up a prayer: Please let me sleep through this night with no dreams.
DOCUMENT INSERT: 1/16/59. Official FBI telephone call transcript: “Recorded at the Director’s Request”! “Classified Confidential 1-A: Director’s Eyes Only.” Speaking: Director Hoover, Special Agent Kemper Boyd.
JEH: Good morning, Mr. Boyd.
KB: Sir, good morning.
JRH: We have an excellent connection. Are you nearby?
KB: I’m at a restaurant on Northeast “I” Street.
JEH: I see. The Committee offices are close by, so I Imagine you’re hard at work for Little Brother.
KB: I am, Sir. At least cosmetically.
JEH: Update me, please.
KB: I convinced Little Brother to send me back to Miami. I told him that I could depose some Sun Valley land fraud witnesses, and in fact I did bring back some inconclusive depositions.
JEH: Continue.
KB: My real motive in traveling to Florida was to accrue information for you on the Gretzler and Kirpaski matters. You’ll be pleased to know that I checked in with both the Miami and Lake Weir Police Departments and learned that both cases have been moved to open file status. I consider that a tacit admission that both homicides win remain unsolved.
JEH: Excellent. Now update me on the brothers.
KB: The Committee’s labor racketeering mandate expires in ninety days. The paperwork forwarding process is now in the compilation stage, and I’ll be sending you carbons of every piece of salient memoranda sent to our target grand juries. And, again, Sir, my opinion is that Jimmy Hoffa is legally inviolate at this time.
JEH: Continue.
KB: Big Brother has been calling legitimate labor leaders allied with the Democratic Party, to assure them that the trouble that Little Brother has stirred up with Hoffa does not mean that he is anti-labor overall. My understanding is that he will announce his candidacy in early January of next year.
JEH: And you remain certain that the brothers do not suspect the Bureau of collusion in the Darleen Shoftel matter?
KB: I’m certain, Sir. Pete Bondurant’s girlfriend Informed Little Brother of the Hush-Hush piece, and Ward Littell exposed both our primary bug and Bondurant’s secondary bug independent of her.
JEH: I heard the Brothers’ father made Howard Hughes eat crow.
KB: That’s true, Sir.
JEH: Hush-Hush has been lackluster lately. The advance peeks that Mn Hughes has been sending me have been quite tame.
KB: I’ve been staying in touch with Pete Bondurant on general principles, and I think I’ve found him a Hollywood-connected man he could use as a stringer.