Bullock”–three rows over, six trailers down.
Rock gardens, jacked-up trailers, white trash wives out sunning. My SOMETHING
MISSING:
Frizell-Bullock confabs–Wylie assertive: Incest! Poke the vampire’s eyes out!
Three over, six down–a chromium Airstream. My .45 out surreptitious–knock.
No answer–no surprise–no Packard. I tried the door–locked–too many squarejohns around for a break-in.
The set–go.
* * *
Freeways back–my clunker wheezed. Griffith Park, the set–no Bullock vehicle in sight.
Side 225
Ellroy – White Jazz
Mickey by the spaceship-wearing a Jew beanie.
“The Feds and LAPD were here chasing your tush. The Malibu Sheriff’s were looking for my erstwhile star Glenda Bledsoe, who I understand you are playing Bury the Brisket with. You break my heart, you handsome snatch bandit.”
No “crew”–just Mickey. “Where is everybody?”
“Shmuckface, _Attack of the Atomic Vampire_ is in show-biz parlance a ‘wrap.’
Glenda may look a bit muscular in her concluding moments, given that Rock Rockwell portrayed her in long shots, but that aside I consider my movie a cinema landmark.”
“Where’s Wylie Bullock?”
“I should know? I should care?”
“Sid Frizell?”
“Paid off and on the night boat to Nowheresville for all I care.”
Beanie, flag lapel pin–hero Mickey. “You look happy.”
“I have a movie in the can, and I have made friends of the Federal persuasion.
And do not judge me as a snitch fuck, because a certain U.S. attorney told me you have those tendencies yourself.”
Dudley’s lovable shmuck. “I’ll miss you, Mickey.”
“Run, David. The tsuris you have caused seeks retribution. Run to Galapagos and watch turtles fuck in the sun.”
* * *
The Cahuenga Pass–back over coughing fumes. Lankershim and Croft– the Skyliner Motel.
Horseshoe-shaped–cut-rate pool-view cabanas. Pete staked out curbside–snoozing with the seat back.
I parked behind him. Tell-me money in the trunk–I stuffed my pockets.
Skirt the pool over–room 104. 1 knocked–Madge opened up quick.
Haggard–heavy makeup made it worse. “You’re that policeman. Our house was broken into. . . you came over…
“Hankie binge”–wet eyes, tear tracks.
“I’m sorry about your daughter.”
“It was a merciful death for both of them. Did you come to arrest me?”
“No. Why should I–”
“If you don’t know, I won’t tell you.”
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
“So you filled your pockets with money.”
C-notes spilling out. “I figured it couldn’t hurt.”
“Did Dan Wilhite send you?”
“He’s dead. He killed himself.”
“Poor Dan”–one short sigh.
Side 226
Ellroy – White Jazz
“Mrs. Kafesjian . . .”
“Come in. I’ll answer your questions if you promise not to slander the children.”
“Whose children?”
“Ours. Whoever’s. Just exactly what did you. . . ?”
I sat her down. “Your family and the Herricks.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me everything.”
* * *
1932–Scranton, Pennsylvania.
J.C. Kafesjian and Phillip Herrick work at Balustrol Chemicals. J.C. is a laborer, Phillip a solvent analyst. J.C. is crude, Phil is cultured–they are friends–nobody knows why.
1932: the friends move to Los Angeles together. They court women and marry them: J.C. and Madge Clarkson, Phil and Joan Renfrew.
Five years pass: the men toil at boring chemical jobs. Five children are born: Tommy and Lucille Kafesjian; Richard, Laura and Christine Herrick.
J.C. and Phil are bored, angry and poor. Their chemistry knowledge inspires a scheme: brew homemade liquor.
They do it–and thrive.
The Depression continues; poor people need cut-rate spirits. J.C. and Phil sell it cheap-work-camp workers their chief clientele. They accrue profits and hoard their shares.
J.C. and Phil–friends and partners.
J.C. and Phil–cuckolding each other.
Neither man knows:
Two affairs predate their weddings. Lovers: J.C. and Joan, Phillip and Madge.
The adultery continues–five children are born–their patrimony inconclusive.
J.C. opens a dry-cleaning shop; Phil invests in a chemical plant. They continue their home liquor business.
J.C. pushes Phil to cut costs: lower-quality alcohol solvents mean greater profits.
Phil agrees.
They sell a batch to some CCC workers–a dozen men go permanently blind.
June 22, 1937:
A blind man carries a pump shotgun into a tavern.
He fires the weapon at random–three people are killed.
He sticks the barrel in his mouth and blows his own head off.
Sergeant Dudley Smith investigates. He learns the source of the shotgun man’s blinding; he tracks the liquor to Phil and J.C. He makes them an offer: his Side 227