Ellroy, James – Big Nowhere, The THE BIG NOWHERE

Danny looked up. “Tell me about that. What happened?”

Cormier took out his cigar butt and fingered it. “In the summer of ’42 I worked nights at the Griffith Park Zoo, resident zoologist doing research on nocturnal mustelid habits. I had an earlier bunch of wolverines that were getting real fat. I knew somebody must have been feeding them, and I started finding extra mouse and hamster carcasses in the pens. Somebody was lifting the food latches and feeding my Gulos, and I figured it for a neighborhood kid who’d heard about my reputation and thought he’d see for himself. Truth be told, it didn’t bother me, and it kind of gave me a cozy feeling, here’s this fellow Gulo lover and all. Then, late in July, it stopped. I knew it stopped because there were no more extra carcasses in the cages and my Gulos went back to their normal weights. About a year and a half or so went by, and one night my Gulo Otto was stolen. I laughed like hell. I figured the feeder had to have a Gulo for himself and stole Otto. Otto was a pistol. If the stealer got away with keeping him, I’m sure Otto bit him real good. I called hospitals around here to see if they stitched a bite victim, but it was no go, no Otto.”

Bit him real good.

Danny thought of sedation–a wolverine Mickey Finned and stolen–HIM

with his own evil mascot–_the story might just play_. He looked back in the pen; the wolverine noticed something and lashed the wire, making screechy blood W noises. Cormier laughed and said, “Juno, _you’re_ a pistol.” Danny put his face up to the mesh, tasting the animal’s breath. He said, “Thanks, Mr.

Cormier,” pulled himself away and drove to the Joredco Dental Lab.

o

o

o

He was almost expecting a neon sign facade, an animal mouth open wide, the address numbers done up as teeth. He was wrong: the lab was just a tan stucco building, a subtly lettered sign above the door its only advertisement.

Danny parked in front and walked into a tiny receiving area: a secretary behind a desk, a switchboard and calendar art on the walls–1950 repeated a dozen times over, handsome wild animals representing January for local taxidermist’s shops. The girl smiled at him and said, “Yes?”

Danny showed his badge. “Sheriff’s. I’d like to speak to the man in charge.”

“Regarding?”

“Regarding animal teeth.”

The girl tapped an intercom switch and said, “Policeman to see you, Mr.

Carmichael.” Danny looked at pictures of moose, bears, wolves and buffalos; he noticed a sleek mountain cat and thought of a wolverine stalking it, killing it off with sheer ugly persistence.

A connecting door swung open; a man in a bloody white smock came in.

Danny said, “Mr. Carmichael?”

“Yes, mister?”

“It’s Deputy Upshaw.”

“And this regards, Deputy?”

Side 150

Ellroy, James – Big Nowhere, The

“It regards wolverine teeth.”

No reaction except impatience–the man obviously anxious to get back to work. “Then I can’t help you. Joredco is the only lab in Los Angeles that fashions animal dentures, and we’ve never done them for a wolverine.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because taxidermists do not stuff wolverines–they are not an item that people want mounted in their home or lodge. I’ve worked here for thirteen years and I’ve never filled an order for wolverine teeth.”

Danny thought it over. “Could someone who learned the rudiments of animal-denture making here do it himself?”

“Yes, but it would be bloody and very slapdash without the proper tools.”

“Good. Because I’m looking for a man who likes blood.”

Carmichael wiped his hands on his smock. “Deputy, what is this in regard to?”

“Quadruple homicide. How far back do your employment records go?”

The “quadruple homicide” got to Carmichael–he looked shaken under his brusqueness. “My God. Our records go back to ’40, but Joredco employs mostly women. You don’t think–”

Danny was thinking Reynolds Loftis wouldn’t sully his hands in a place like this. “I think maybe. Tell me about the men you’ve had working here.”

“There haven’t been many. Frankly, women work for a lower wage. Our current staff has been here for years, and when we get rush orders, we hire bums out of day labor and kids from Lincoln and Belmont High School to do the scut work. During the war, we hired lots of temporaries that way.”

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

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *