Hot–I took off my jacket. “So you solicited that girl just once, right?”
“Right.”
“Had you seen her around before?”
“No.”
“Have you seen her since?”
“There hasn’t been no since. Jesus Christ, I get paid, I go cruising for some strange and some punk kid cop strongarms me. Jesus fucking–”
“Vincent, what attracted you to that girl?”
“She was white. I got no taste for nigger stuff. I’m not prejudiced, I just Side 73
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don’t dig it. Some of my best friends are nig–I mean Negroes, but I don’t go for dark cooze.”
Junior smoking–hot–he kept his coat on.
Lo Bruto: “Your partner don’t talk much.”
“He’s tired. He’s been working undercover up in Hollywood.”
“Yeah? Wow, now I know why he’s such a pussy bandit. Man-ohManischewitz, they say the snatch grows fine up there.”
I laughed. “It does, but he’s been working fruits. Say, partner, remember how you popped those queers in Fern Dell? Remember–you helped out that Academy pal of yours?”
“Sure”–dry-mouthed, scratchy.
“Jesus, partner, it must have made you sick. Did you stop for some poon on the way home, just to get rid of the TASTE?”
Sweaty knuckle pops–his sleeves dropped. WRIST TRACKS–he tugged his cuff links to hide them.
Lo Bruto: “Hey, I thought this was my show.”
“It is. Sergeant Stemmons, any questions for Vincent?”
“No”–dry, fretting those cuff links.
I smiled. “Let’s get back to the girl.”
Lo Bruto: “Yeah, let’s do that.”
“Was she good?”
“Strange is strange. She was better than the wife, but not as good as the amateur stuff handsome here probably gets.”
“He likes them _blond_ and _gorgeous_.”
“We all do, but I’m lucky to get it plain old Caucasian.”
Junior stroked his gun, spastic-handed.
“So how was she better than your wife?”
“She moved around more, and she liked to talk dirty.”
“What did she call herself?”
“She didn’t tell me no name.”
Lucille’s window striptease–use it. “Describe the girl naked.”
Fast: “Chubby, low-slung tits. Big brown nipples, like she maybe had some _paisan_ blood.”
Tilt–he knew. “What was she wearing when you picked her up?”
“Hip huggers–you know, pedal pushers.”
“Where did you screw her?”
“In the snatch, where else?”
“The location, Vincent.”
Side 74
Ellroy – White Jazz
“Oh. I.. . uh. . . I think it was a dive called the Red Arrow Inn.”
I tapped the tape rig. “Listen close, Vincent. There’s a man on this, but I don’t think it’s you. Just tell me if the girl talked up any similar stuff.”
Lo Bruto nodded; I punched Play. Static hiss, “Now I’ll be the daughter and you’ll be the daddy, and if you’re reeeeal sweet we can go again no extra.”
I hit Stop. Junior–no reaction. Lo Bruto: “Boy, that sick kitten is just full of surprises.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning she didn’t make me wear a safe.”
“Maybe she uses a diaphragm.”
“Nyet. Trust Mr. Big Dick, these girls _always_ go the rubber route.”
“And she didn’t?”
“What can I tell you, she let this jockey ride bareback. And let me tell you, _paisan_, my big sausage _works_. Witness the goddamn offspring that got me slaving to feed them.”
A guess: scrape jobs made Lucille sterile. “What about that tape?”
“What about it?”
“Did the girl talk up any of that daddy-daughter stuff with you?”
“No.”
“But you said she talked dirty.”
Tee-hee. “She said I was the biggest. I said they don’t call me Mr. Big Dick for nothing. She said she’s liked them big since way back when, and I said, ‘Way back when to a kid like you means last week.’ She said something like ‘You’d be surprised.'”
Junior tugged his cuff links. Tweak him: “This Lucille sounds like a Fern Dell Park faggot, partner. Big dicks, that’s a queer fixation. _You’ve_ worked fruits more than me, wouldn’t you say so?”
Hot seat–Junior squirmed.
“Wouldn’t you say so, Sergeant?”
“Y-yeah, s-sure”–hoarse.
Back to Big Dick. “So the girl wore pedal pushers, right?”
“Right.”
“Did she mention a guy perved on her, maybe peeping her trick assignations?”
“No.”
“And she wore pedal pushers?”
“Yeah, I told you that already.”
“What else did she wear?”
“I don’t know. A blouse, I think.”