Ellroy, James – Big Nowhere, The THE BIG NOWHERE

“No. What about men in general of that description? Are there any who frequent your parties or regularly use your service?”

Another thoughtful look. Gordean said, “It’s the impressive head of hair that tears it. The only tall, middle-aged men I deal with are quite balding. I’m sorry.”

Danny thought, no you’re not–but you’re probably telling the truth. He said, “What did Wiltsie tell you about Lindenaur?”

“Just that they were living together.”

“Did you know that Lindenaur attempted to extort money from Charles Hartshorn?”

“No.”

“Have you heard of either Wiltsie or Lindenaur pulling other extortion deals?”

“No, I have not.”

“What about blackmail in general? Men like your clients are certainly susceptible to it.”

Felix Gordean laughed. “My clients come to my parties and use my service because I insulate them from things like that.”

Danny laughed. “You didn’t insulate Charles Hartshorn too well.”

“Charles was never lucky–in love or politics. He’s also not a killer.

Side 94

Ellroy, James – Big Nowhere, The Question him if you don’t believe me, but be courteous, Charles has a low threshold for abuse and he has much legal power.”

Gordean was holding out the glass of brandy; Danny took it and knocked the full measure back. “What about enemies of Wiltsie and Lindenaur, known associates, guys they ran with?”

“I don’t know anything about that sort of thing.”

“Why not?”

“I try to keep things separate and circumscribed.”

“Why?”

“To avoid situations like this.”

Danny felt the brandy coming on, kicking in with the shots he’d had at home. “Mr. Gordean, are you a homosexual?”

“No, Deputy. Are you?”

Danny flushed, raised his glass and found it empty. He resurrected a crack from his briefing with Considine. “That old scarlet letter routine doesn’t wash with me.”

Gordean said, “I don’t quite understand the reference, Deputy.”

“It means that I’m a professional, and I can’t be shocked.”

“Then you shouldn’t blush so easily–your color betrays you as a naif.”

The empty glass felt like a missile to heave; Danny hit back on “naif”

instead. “We’re talking about three people dead. Cut up with a fucking zoot stick, eyes poked out, intestines chewed on. We’re talking about blackmail and burglary and jazz and guys with burned-up faces, and you think you can hurt me by calling me naif? You think you–”

Danny stopped when he saw Gordean’s jaw tensing. The man stared down at the floor; Danny wondered if he’d stabbed a nerve or just hit him on simple revulsion. “What is it? Tell me.”

Gordean looked up. “I’m sorry. I have a low threshold for brash young policemen and descriptions of violence, and I shouldn’t have called–”

“Then help me. Show me your client list.”

“No. I told you I don’t keep a list.”

“Then tell me what bothered you so much.”

“I did tell you.”

“And I don’t feature you as that sensitive. So tell me.”

Gordean said, “When you mentioned jazz, it made me think of a client, a horn player that I used to broker introductions to rough trade to. He impressed me as volatile then, but he’s not tall or middle-aged.”

“And that’s _all_?”

“Cy Vandrich, Deputy. Your tactics have gotten you more than I would normally have been willing to part with, so be grateful.”

“And that’s _all_?”

Gordean’s eyes were blank, giving nothing up. “No. Direct all your future inquiries through Lieutenant Matthews and learn to sip fine brandy–you’ll enjoy it more.”

Danny tossed his crystal snifter on a Louis XIV chair and walked out.

o

o

o

An hour and a half to kill before his meeting with Considine; more liquor out of the question. Danny drove to Coffee Bob’s and forced down a hamburger and pie, wondering how much of the Gordean questioning slipped between the cracks: his own nerves, the pimp’s police connections and savoir faire. The food calmed him down, but didn’t answer his questions; he hit a pay phone and got dope on Cy Vandrich.

There was only one listed with DMV/R&I: Cyril “Cy” Vandrich, WM, DOB

7/24/18, six arrests for petty theft, employment listed as “transient” and

“musician.” Currently on his sixth ninety-day observation jolt at the Camarillo loony bin. A follow-up call to the bin revealed that Vandrich kept pulling crazy man stunts when he got rousted for shoplifting; that the Misdemeanor Court judge kept recommending Camarillo. The desk woman told Danny that Vandrich was in custody there on the two killing nights; that he made himself useful teaching music to the nuts. Danny said that he might come up to question the man; the woman said that Vandrich might or might not be in control of his faculties–no one at the bin had ever been able to figure him out–whether he was malingering or seriously crazy. Danny hung up and drove to West Hollywood Station to meet Mal Considine.

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 *