The Mick’s a hero now, he’s a lovable shmuck, and Dud thinks he can buy up more Side 218
Ellroy – White Jazz
Lynwood property and start so-called ‘containing’ the economy down there, then set Mickey up to front his district gambling franchise, all nice and legal.”
“District gambling won’t pass the State Legislature.”
“Well, feature Dudley thinks otherwise. Feature he’s got a political guy with very large juice in his pocket to make sure it does get passed.”
Gas Chamber Bob Gallaudet: district gambling supporter.
Tipped off to the Duhamel meet.
Goosebumps: my dry-ice burns started tickling.
“So Dud found out you were meeting Johnny. Breuning and Carlisle slugged you and doped you up, and Dud tortured Johnny before you sliced him. They got him to admit that Exley was running him as a decoy and that he had these fake bank accounts and this operations cash stashed in a safe at his house. Johnny said he kept trying to pull out of the deal because he knew the slot guys would probably get clipped and lots of other shit would hit the fan, but Exley kept sending him back to find out more.”
Radio hum: Tommy mobile, Lucille mobile.
Pete and Freddy dumbstruck–holy shit/mother dog!
“Why did Dudley make that movie? Why didn’t he just kill Johnny and me?”
“He said he wanted to compromise you and use you. He said he was going to offer you this job as liaison and bagman to the LAPD. He said he could use you to take Ed Exley down. He said you were probably a pretty good lawyer, and he said you could teach him things about property maintenance.”
Chick oozing brainwaves: kowtow to Dudley or die.
Pete oozing brainwaves: kill the wop and grab his money.
Freddy oozing brainwaves: _Hush-Hush_ would love THIS.
_Atomic Vampire_–INCEST/GORE.
“Chick, what do you know about Sid Frizell?”
“Feature I know close to nothing.”
“Has he done time?”
“County time for child-support skips. He’s no hard-case penitentiary guy, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
To Freddy: “_Sid Frizell_. He’s a tall, skinny guy about thirty-five. He’s got sort of an Okie drawl.”
“No bells. Am I supposed to know him?’
“I thought he might have taken your class at Chino.”
“No, I don’t think so. I mean, I’m a bug man, so I listen to how people talk.
Sorry, but there were no Okie drawls in my class.”
SOMETHING MISSING.
I grabbed the phone and got an operator–Chino on the line.
A warden’s aide answered. Go, tell him:
Compile a roster for me–cons at Chino Richie Herrick concurrent. Messenger it down?–No, I’ll call you back for a verbal.
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2:00 A.M.–custody looming. Radio sputter, _pop_/_pop_–Pete cracking his knuckles. Chick loopy drunk, scorched hair–my damage.
Smells–stale food, smoke. A view out the window: overflowing trashcans. _My_
building–nine G’s a year net profit.
Think: snitches, deal-outs.
Last-ditch tries.
Welles Noonan–a Gallaudet rival.
Think trades: Glenda for Bob G. and Dudley.
The bedroom phone-shaky hands on the dial. MA 4-0218–Noonan.
“U.S. Attorney’s Office, Special Agent Shipstad.”
“It’s Klein.”
“_Klein, this call didn’t happen_.”–low, furtive.
“What?”
“Noonan got a film can special-delivery. It’s you chopping up some guy, and _I_
know it’s a setup, but _he_ doesn’t care. A note said copies go to the press if you testify for us, and Noonan said your immunity agreement is cancelled. He’s issued a Federal arrest warrant on you, _and this call did not happen_.”
CLICK–
Chairs/shelves/tables–I threw them and kicked them and dumped them. I punched myself arm-dead on the curtains; exhaustion had me swaying light-headed.
Radio squawk:
“Madge left the house alone. The point car’s on her.”
“Lucille’s entering Chavez Ravine. She’s driving erratic, she’s sideswiping trees–”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Crisscross headlights, dirt roads–Chavez Ravine.
Dark–no streetlights– cop lights only. Roof lights, headlights, flashlights–tail men mobile and on foot.
Bumper crunched upside a tree: Lucille’s Ford, abandoned.
APBs out on me–
I ditched my car and sprinted up the access road. Zigzag flashlights down below: a shack-to-shack search.
“Lad.”
Dark, just his voice. I aimed at it, half pull triggered.
“Lad, hear me out before you act precipitously.”
“You sent that movie to Noonan.”
“No, Bob Gallaudet did. I told him you had Chick Vecchio hidden, and Bob assumed that Chick would behave in a cowardly fashion and inform on us. Lad, Bob handed you up to Noonan. He threatened to make public a second copy of the film if you Side 220