Peepers: windows, skylights, roofs–the roof clowns a chink brother act. No watchdog choppers, the geeks read passive, caught holding their puds with a whimper. Darryl Wishnick, a cute MO: peep, break, enter, rape watchdogs subdued by goofball-laced meat–too bad he kicked from syph in ’56. One flash: peepers played passive, my guy killed badass canines.
No jumps.
5:45–keyed up, hungry. Rick’s Reef the ticket–maybe Diskant on TV
I drove over, wolfed bar pretzels. TV news: Chavez Ravine, traffic deaths, the Red.
Boost the volume:
“… and so I’m withdrawing for personal reasons. Thomas Bethune will be reelected by default, which I fervently hope will not guarantee the facilitation of the Chavez Ravine land grab. I will continue to protest this travesty as a private citizen. I…”
No more appetite–I took off.
* * *
Nowhere to go-just a cruise. South–some magnet pulled me.
Figueroa, Slauson, Central. A gray cop Plymouth behind me-say LAD, Exley ordered. I gunned it–adios, maybe tail car.
Side 32
Ellroy – White Jazz
Peeper turf–nightclubs, fuck flops. Bido Lito’s, Klub Zamboanga, Club Zombie-low roofs, good for climbing. Lucky Time Motel, Tick Tock Motel. Easy peeping: roof access, weeds shoulder high. A brain click: catch Lester Lake at the Tiger Room.
U-turn, check the rearview, shit–a gray Plymouth cut off.
IAD or Narco? Goons keeping tabs?
Side streets-dawdling evasive–Lester’s set closed at 8:00 sharp. Lester Lake: tenant, informant. Snitch duty cheap-he owed me.
Fall ’52:
A call from Harry Cohn, movie kingpin. My “Enforcer” tag intrigued him; he figured “Klein” made me a Jewboy. A shvartze crooner was banging his girlfriend-clip him for ten grand.
I said no.
Mickey Cohen said no.
Cohn called Jack Dragna.
I knew I’d get the job–no refusal rights. Mickey: a taste for light poon don’t rate death–but Jack insists.
I called Jack: this is petty shit, don’t set a standard. Muscle Lester Lake–don’t kill him.
Jack said _you_ muscle him.
Jack said take the Vecchio brothers.
Jack said take the nigger someplace, cut his vocal cords–
Gulp–one split second–
“Or I’ll nail you for Trombino and Brancato. I’ll drag your whore sister’s name through the mud.”
I grabbed Lester Lake at his crib: get cut or get killed–you call it. Lester said, cut, fast, please. The Vecchios showed–Touch packed a scalpel. A few drinks to loosen things up-knockout drops for Lester.
Anesthesia–Lester moaned for Mama. I hustled a disbarred doctor over–surgery in exchange for no abortion charge. Lester healed up; Harry Cohn found a new girlfriend: Kim Novak.
Lester’s voice went baritone to tenor–he chased jig poon strictly now. Touch brought boyfriends to hear him.
Lester said he owed me. Our deal: a flop at my shine-only dive– reduced rent for good information. Success: he talked spook to the spooks and snitched bookies.
The club–a tiger-striped facade, a tiger-tux doorman. Inside: tiger-fur walls, tiger-garb drink girls. Lester Lake on stage, belting “Blue Moon.”
I grabbed a booth, grabbed a tigress–“Dave Klein to see Lester.” She zipped backstage-slot machines clanged out the doorway. Lester: mockhumble bows, bum applause.
House lights on, dig it: jungle bunnies sprawled in tiger-fur booths. Lester right there, holding a plate.
Chicken and waffles–popping grease. “Hello, Mr. Klein. I was gonna call you.”
Side 33
Ellroy – White Jazz
“You’re short on the rent.”
He sat down. “Yeah, and you slumlords cut a man no slack. Could be worse, though. You could be a Jew slumlord.”
Eyes our way. “I always meet you in public. What do people figure we’re doing?”
“Nobody never asks, but I figure they figure you still collect bets for Jack Woods. I’m a betting man, so I’d say that’s it. And speaking of Jack, he was collecting your rents this afternoon, which made me want to call you before he leaned on me like he leaned on that poor sucker down the hall.”
“Help me out and I’ll let you slide.”
“You mean you asks, I answers.”
“No. First you get rid of that slop, then I ask and you answer.”
A tiger girl passed–Lester dumped his plate and swiped a shot glass. A gulp, a belch: “So ask.”
“Let’s start with burglars.”
“Okay, Leroy Coates, out on parole and spending money. Wayne Layne, boss pad creeper, pimping his wife to make the nut on his habit. Alfonzo Tyrell–“