Ellroy – White Jazz

“Which in his brutish spaghetti-bender fashion he does.”

Glenda cheesecake-four walls’ worth. “Let’s say he miscalculated this time.”

“As the song goes, ‘I should care?'”

“You should care. Noonan’s prizefight probe went out the window too, so now he’s hot to get something going in Niggertown. If the Feds hit the Southside, they’ll raid your coin locations. If I get a line on it I’ll tell you, but I might not know. Sam put your last going business in real trouble.”

Chick V. by the doorway; Mickey, cheesecake eyes. “David, such tsuris you predict, such tsuris I am nonplussed by. My desires are strictly to see district gambling get in, then retire to Galapagos and watch turtles fuck in the sun.”

Laugh it out. “District gambling will never pass the State Legislature, and if it did, you’d never get a franchise. Bob Gallaudet is the only reputable politician who supports it, and he’ll change his mind if he makes attorney general.”

Chick coughed; Mickey shrugged. A permit on the door: “ParksRecreation, Approval to Film.” I squinted–“Robert Gallaudet,” small print.

Laugh _that_ out. “Bob let you film here for a campaign contribution. He’s about to make DA, so you think a grand or two gets you the inside track on district gambling. Jesus, you must be shooting dope like old Dracula.”

Pinups galore–Mickey blew them kisses. “The prom date I never had in 1931. I could guarantee her a corsage and many fine hours of Bury the Brisket.”

“She reciprocate?”

“Tomorrow, maybe yes, but today she breaks my heart. Dinner tonight was already finalized, then Herman Gerstein called. His company is set to distribute my movie, and he needs Glenda to accompany his faygeleh heartthrob Rock Rockwell on a publicity date. Such tsuris– Herman is grooming that rump ranger for stardom apart from me, he’s terrified the scandal rags will discover he takes his pleasure Greek. Such duplicity to lose her company, my comely brisketeer.”

“Publicity date”–contract breaker. “Mickey, watch your coin biz. Remember what I told you.”

“Go, David. Take a bagel for the road.”

I walked out; Chick walked in. I checked my envelope-five G’s.

* * *

A pay phone, two dimes: the DMV cop line, Junior.

Stats: Glenda Louise Bledsoe, 5’8″, 125, blond/blue, DOB 8/3/29, Provo, Utah.

California license since 8/46, five moving violations. ’56 Chevrolet Corvette, red/white, Cal. DX 413. Address: 2489 N. Mount Airy, Hollywood.

Side 42

Ellroy – White Jazz

Junior at the Bureau–no luck–the Ad Vice clerk said he didn’t check in. I left a message: buzz me at Stan’s Drive-in.

I dawdled over, grabbed a space by the phone booth. Coffee, a burger–scan those file carbons.

Burglars, confessors–physical stats/MO/priors–I took notes. The Wino Will-o-the-Wisp–shit, still at large. Names, names, names– candidates for a psycho framee. Scribbling notes–distracted–flirty carhops, new money. Nagging me: a frame meant no payoff–no way to match Lucille and the burglar to WHY?

The phone–I ran, grabbed it. “Junior?”

“Yeah, the clerk said to call you.”

Wary–not his style. “You got that note I left you, right?”

“Right.”

“Right, and did you check the stationhouse whore files for paper on Lucille Kafesjian?”

“I’m working on it. Dave, I can’t talk now. I’ll–look, I’ll call you later.”

“The fuck later, you _jump_ on that work–” CLICK–dead air.

* * *

Home, paperwork. Pissed at Junior–an erratic punk getting worse. Paperwork: Exley’s Kafesjian report padded up fat. Lists next: potential Glenda tailers, potential pervert framees. Calls in: Meg–Jack Woods glommed our back rent. Pete B: do Mr. Hughes solid, I convinced him you’re not a Hebe. Calls out: Ad Vice, Junior’s pad, no luck–find him, ream his insubordinate heart. My tailer list, bum luck holding–no men to start tonight. _My_ job by default–a publicity date meant contract breaker.

Back to Hollywood: side streets, the freeway. No tails on me: dead sure. Up Gower, Mount Airy, left turn.

2489: courtyard bungalows–peach stucco. A carport–with a red and white Corvette snuggled in.

5:10–just dark. I parked close–courtyard/carport view.

Time dragged–the stakeout blues–piss in a cup, toss it, doze. Auto/ foot traffic–light. 7:04-three cars at the curb.

Doors open, flashbulbs popping: Rock Rockwell–tuxedo, bouquet. A jog to the courtyard, back with Glenda–nice–a tight sweater dress. Bulb glare caught her patented Look–it’s a joke and I know it. Zoom: all three cars U-turned southbound.

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