“Then go to the bathroom, for Christ’s sake!” Dudley bellowed.
Engels got up from his resting place and wobbled into the filthy lavatory. We could hear the sound of him vomiting into the toilet bowl, then running water and urinating. He came came back a moment later, having discarded his vomit-soaked pajama top. His lean, muscular torso had been given a quick washing. He shivered in the late afternoon heat of the smelly little room.
“I’m ready to answer your questions, officers,” he said. “Please let me answer them so I can go home.”
“Shut up, Engels,” Dudley said. “We’ll get to you when we’re damn good and ready.”
“Ease off, Lieutenant,” I said. “Don’t worry, Mr. Engels, we’ll be right with you. Would you like a hamburger?” Engels shook his head and stared at us.
We finished our dinner. Dick Carlisle announced that he was going for a walk, and got up and left the room. Mike, Dudley, and I arranged three chairs around the mattress. Engels had backed himself up against the wall. He sat Indian-style, with his hands jammed under his knees to control their trembling. We took our seats facing him and stared at him for a long moment before Dudley spoke: “Your name?”
Our prisoner cleared his throat: “Edward Engels.”
“Your address?”
“1911 Horn, West Hollywood.”
“Your age?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Your occupation?”
Engels hesitated. “Real estate liaison,” he said.
“What the hell is a ‘real estate liaison’?” Dudley barked. Engels groped for words. “Come on, man!” Dudley shouted.
“Ease off, Lieutenant,” I said. “Mr. Engels, would you explain your duties in that capacity?”
“I … I . . . uh, help close real estate deals.”
“Which entails?” I asked.
“Which entails fixing up buyers with real estate people.”
“I see. Well, could you–”
Dudley cut in. “Horseshit, Inspector. This guy is a known gambler. I’ve got reports on him from bookies all over Hollywood. In fact, I’ve got several witnesses who say he’s a bookie himself.”
“That’s not true,” Engels cried. “I bet the ponies, but I don’t book any action with bookies or make book myself, and I’m clean with the cops! I’ve got no criminal record!”
“The hell you say, Engels! I know better!”
I raised my hands and called for order. “That’s enough! That’s enough from both of you! Now, Mr. Engels, betting the horses is not illegal. Lieutenant Smith just got carried away because he hasn’t picked any winners lately. Would you call yourself a winning gambler?”
“Yes, I’m a winner.”
“Do you earn more at gambling than at your real estate job?”
Engels hesitated. “Yes,” he said.
“Do you list these winnings on your income tax returns?” I asked.
“Uh… no.”
“What did you file as your total income on this year’s return?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about 1950?”
“I don’t know.”
“1949?”
“I don’t know.”
“1948?”
“I don’t remember.”
“1947?”
“I don’t know!”
“1946?”
“I don’t … I was in the navy then . . . I forget.”
Dudley butted in: “You do pay income tax, don’t you, Engels?”
Engels hung his head between his legs. “No,” he said.
“You realize that income tax evasion is a federal crime, don’t you, Engels?” Dudley continued, pressing.
“Yes.”
“I pay income tax, so does the inspector, so do all good lawabiding citizens. What the hell makes you so special that you think you don’t have to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ease off, Lieutenant,” I said. “Mr. Engels wants to cooperate. Mr. Engels, I’m going to name some people. Tell me of your association with them.”
Engels nodded dumbly. Dudley handed me a carefully typed slip of paper broken down into three columns headed: “Gamblers,” “Bookmakers,” and “Hollywood Vice offenders.” I started with the gamblers. Mike Breuning got out his steno pad and poised his pencil over it. Dudley lit a cigarette for himself and one for Engels, who accepted it gratefully.
“Okay, Mr. Engels, listen carefully: James Babij, Leslie ‘Scribe’ Thomas, James Gillis, Walter Snyder, Willard Dolphine. Any of those names sound familiar?”
Engels nodded confidently. “Those guys are high rollers, big spenders at Santa Anita. Entrepreneurs, you know what I mean?”
“Yes. Are you intimate with any of them?”
“What do you mean ‘intimate’?” Engels narrowed his eyes suspiciously.