spoke out of school.
He called the robbery a baffler, and ruled out insurance fraud, even though Sol Hurwitz is rapaciously rumored to be a dice game degenerate. “Schoolboy” then bit his tongue and offered no further comments.
In a _fur_ther development, a score of _fur_ious _fur_meisters picketed Sol Hurwitz’ Pacoima scene-of-the-crime storage facility. With a scant 25% assessed value refund coming to them, these perplexed parents impatiently importuned Mindy Mink, Rachel Raccoon and Charlie Chinchilla: Come home! It’s 80 degrees and we’re freezing without you!
Look for _fur_ther developments in upcoming Crimewatch features. Remember, you heard it _fur_st here: off the record, on the Q.T. and _very_ Hush-Hush!
L.A. _Herald-Express_, 11/7/58:
U.S. ATTORNEY ANNOUNCES
SOUTHSIDE RACKETS PROBE
This morning, in a brief, tersely worded prepared statement, U.S. Attorney Welles Noonan announced that Justice Department investigators assigned to the Southern California District Office would soon begin a “minutely detailed, complex and far reaching” probe into racketeering in South-Central Los Angeles.
He called his investigation a “gathering of evidence aimed at establishing criminal conspiracies”; he said that his goal was to present “convincing evidence” to a specially convened Federal Grand Jury, with an eye toward securing major indictments.
Noonan, 40, former counsel to the U.S. Senate’s McClellan Rackets Committee, said that his investigation would encompass crimes including narcotics trafficking, jukebox, vending machine and slot machine illegalities, and that he would “thoroughly explore” rumors that the Los Angeles Police Department allows vice to rage in Southside Los Angeles and rarely investigates homicides involving both Negro victims and perpetrators.
The U.S. Attorney declined to answer reporters’ questions, but stated that his task force would include four prosecuting attorneys and at least a dozen specially selected Justice Department agents. He closed his press conference stating that he fully expects the Los Angeles Police Department to refuse to cooperate with the probe.
LAPD Chief William H. Parker and Chief of Detectives Edmund Exley were informed of U.S. Attorney Noonan’s announcement. They declined to comment.
PART TWO. VAMPIRA
Side 58
Ellroy – White Jazz
CHAPTER TEN
Scope the party:
The Cocoanut Grove, a society band. Chief Parker, Exley–smiles for our boy: Gas Chamber Bob Gallaudet. Drink waiters, dancing–Meg brought Jack Woods so she could mambo. Dudley Smith, Mayor Poulson, Tom Bethune–no thank-you to me for the tank job.
Newsmen, Dodger execs. Gallaudet grinning, bombed by flashbulbs.
Mingle, look:
George Stemmons, Sr., two Smith goons: Mike Breuning, Dick Carlisle. Read their lips: FED PROBE, FED PROBE. Parker and Exley holding cocktails–talking FED
PROBE–bet money. Meg danced Jack by– hoodlums still jazzed her–my fault.
Show-up time: I owed Bob congratulations. Better to wait, get him alone–_my_
bad PR lingered. I watched the crowd, matched thoughts to faces.
Exley–tall, easy to spot. He’d read my 459 report: the Lucille/peeper leads, a bogus addendum–shitcan the job, it’s dead-ended. He said keep going; some part of me rejoiced–I wanted to drag that family through the gutter. Both ends against the middle: I’d told Dan Wilhite I’d go easy.
Inspector George Stemmons, Sr., by the punchbowl–Junior twentyodd years older.
Junior missing since the Georgie Ainge roust–stalemate time-he knew Glenda Bledsoe killed Dwight Gilette. _His_ Kafesjian report: fluff. No john/whore file checks, my Darktown scoop made him too busy: that shakedown outside Bido Lito’s; that confab with a “prettyboy blond cop.” Pretty boy’s ID: Johnny Duhamel, Dud Smith’s new Mobster Squad lad.
Junior: no way to trust him; no way to dump him off the case just yet.
Solo now:
I checked the stationhouse lists–luck at University–john names, no hooker names connected. I ran them through the DMV and R&I–all phonies–most Vice cops didn’t press for real IDs–no heart to ream pussy prowlers. Luck crapped out–I saved the names to check against– most johns kept the same alias.
Darktown strutter:
I questioned Western Avenue whores, three nights’ worth–no Lucille plc IDs. I checked with the 77th Squad–still no locate on the peeper complaints. I peeped myself: the Kafesjian pad, car-radio jazz to kill boredom. Two nights–family brawls; one night, Lucille alone–a window striptease-the radio pulsed to her movements. Three nights total, no other watchers–make _me_ the only voyeur.
That Big Instinct confirmed: prowler/peeper/B&E man–all one man.
Homework, two nights’ worth: Art Pepper, Champ Dineen–listening to what the burglar smashed. My phonograph, the volume torqued: that Instinct solid. One session pushed me back to the house-I tailed Tommy K. down to Bido Lito’s.