Danny got the urge to hit again; he stared harder at the water, imagining shark fins cutting the waves. “_Shut up and just answer_. Now the service. Felix gets his kicks bringing guys out, right?”
“Oh Jesus–yes.”
“Were any of those four men I mentioned queers that he brought out?”
“I–I don’t know.”
“Queers in general?”
“Donald and Augie, yes. Tim Costigan and Al Marks are just clients.”
“Did Augie or Don ever turn tricks for the service?”
“Augie did, that’s all I know.”
“Christopher! Did you fall in and drown!”
Danny shifted his gaze, wave churn to beach. Felix Gordean was standing on his back porch, a tiny figure lit by a string of paper lanterns. A glass door stood half open behind him; the two musclemen, barely visible, were entwined on the floor inside. Christopher said, “Please, can I go now?”
Danny looked back at his sharks. “Don’t you tell Gordean about this.”
“What should I tell him about my nose?”
“Tell him a fucking shark bit you.”
“Christopher! Are you coming!”
Side 122
Ellroy, James – Big Nowhere, The o
o
o
Danny drove back to La Paloma Drive. An arclight was shining down on the abandoned Pontiac; Mike Breuning was sitting on the hood of an LAPD unmarked, watching a print man dust for latents. Danny killed his engine and beeped the horn; Breuning walked over and leaned in the window. “No prints except the shine the car belongs to–we eliminated him from a gun registration set he had on file at the station. No records on those four names you gave Shortell, and he’s out canvassing now. What happened? Jack said you said the killer was tailing you.”
Danny got out of the car, pissed that Breuning was goldbricking. “I was staking a place on the Strip–a talent agency run by a guy who queer-pimps on the side. I got some license numbers and called the DMV, and somebody called up impersonating a cop and got them too. I was tailed out here, and the guy rabbited when I spotted him. This car was stolen from darktown–right near where the Marty Goines transport car was grabbed. I’ve got an eyeball witness that places a man matching the killer’s description hanging around outside the pimp’s office, which means that those four men should be put under surveillance. Now.”
Breuning whistled; the print man called out, “Nothing but the guy from the elimination set.” Danny said, “You and Jack keep shaking down the citizens.
I know it’s a long shot, but do it anyway. When you finish, check cab company log sheets for pickups in the Palisades and Santa Monica Canyon and shake down the bus drivers working the Sunset line. He had to blow the area somehow. He might have stolen another car, so check with the desks at West LA Station, Samo PD and the Malibu Sheriff’s. I’m going home for a minute, then I’ll head down to the Southside and check around where the Pontiac was clouted.”
Breuning pulled out a notebook. “Will do, but where do you expect to get the extra men for your stakes on those names? Gene and Jack and I have got work up the wazoo already, and Dudley told me he’s got you busy on that Commie thing.”
Danny thought of Mal Considine. “We’ll get the men, don’t worry.”
The arclight went off; the stretch of roadway went dark. Breuning said,
“Upshaw, what’s with this name Augie Luis Duarte? The killer ain’t Mex and none of his victims were, so why’d you call it in?”
Danny decided to spill on Gordean. “It’s part of a lead I’ve been following up on my own. The pimp is a man named Felix Gordean, and he runs a classy introduction service for homos. George Wiltsie worked for him, the killer was staking his office out, Duarte was one of the names I gave the DMV clerk, and he’s an ex-Gordean whore. Satisfied?”
Breuning whistled again. “Maybe Dudley can get us the extra men. He’s good at that.”
Danny slid back in the car, catching a funny jolt–Dudley Smith’s toady was stringing him along. He said, “You and Jack go to work, and if you get anything hot, call me at home.” He U-turned and took La Paloma down to Sunset, thinking of a sandwich, a weak highball and jigtown canvassing. Sunset was rife with late-evening drivers; Danny turned east and joined a jetstream of lights.