“Because your kid brother told you my kid partner shook him down in Fern Dell Park.”
“Yeah, and I don’t feature twenty-nine-year-old extortionist cops having heart attacks.”
“Chick, _come on_.”
“All right, all right. Touch told me he told you about him and Stemmons in Fern Dell, but there’s something he didn’t tell you.”
Preempt him: “You, Touch and Pete Bondurant are planning your own shakedown gig.
It’s sex, and it’s cough up or _Hush-Hush_ gets the pictures. Stemmons got it out of Touch, so now you’re afraid that _we_ know.”
“Hey, _you_ know.”
I lied: “Stemmons told me. The regular Bureau doesn’t have a clue, and if they knew they’d bury it to protect the kid’s reputation. Your gig’s covered.”
“Copacetic, but I still don’t feature no heart attack.”
“Off the record?”
Side 141
Ellroy – White Jazz
“Uh-huh, and on the QT, like _Hush-Hush_.”
I cupped a whisper. “The kid was fucking around with J.C. and Tommy Kafesjian.
He was popping H, and he OD’d or took a hotshot. It’s a toilet job, and it’s headed for a whitewash.”
Chick cupped a whisper. “Feature the K. boys are not to screw around with.”
“Feature I’m starting to think that Ed Exley’s going to take those humps down two seconds after the Fed heat peters out.”
“Which may be a while, the way things are looking.”
Wind, rain. “Chick, what’s with Mickey? I saw some new guys moving slots out of the Rick Rack, with Feds right across the street taking pictures.”
Chick shrugged. “Mickey’s Mickey. He’s this hebe hardhead you can’t talk sense to half the time.”
“The whole thing played funny. A couple of the slot guys were Mex, and Mickey never hires spics. I tipped him on the Feds early on, but he still won’t pull his metal.”
“Touch and me are staying out of all this Southside business. It sounds to me like Mickey’s hiring freelance.”
Winos pissing on the spaceship. “Yeah, and maybe cut-rate, like your crew here.
Does he need money that bad? I know he’s buffered, but sooner or later the Feds will pin those machines on him.”
“Off the record?”
“Sure.”
“Then feature Mickey’s paying off a syndicate loan with his slot percentages, so he’s got to let the machines linger a bit. I guess he knows it’s risky, but he’s scuffling.”
“Yeah–‘He’s a scrapper, and scrappers always get results.'”
“I said it and I meant it.”
“And he thinks he’ll get a district gambling franchise.”
“Feature that bill could pass.”
“Feature the AG’s office under Gas Chamber Bob Gallaudet? Feature him granting _Mickey Cohen_ a franchise?”
Smirking: “Feature I don’t think you came here to see Mickey.”
Wet ground–the spaceship capsized–bums cheered. “I hope this movie makes money.”
“So does Mickey. Hey, where you going?”
“Lynwood.”
“Hot date?”
“Yeah, with a pretty-boy strongarm cop.”
“I’ll tell Touch–he’ll be jealous.”
Adrenaline-rain peaked it.
Side 142
Ellroy – White Jazz
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lynwood–wind, rain–streets running crisscross and diagonal. Dark–hard to see; Aviation and Hibiscus–that pay phone on the corner.
Tombstone laughs–Jack’s call reprised:
“He kicked natural or got snuffed by somebody else? Come on, let me redeem myself. Say Welles Noonan for that same ten?”
Stucco pads–quasi slums; empty bungalow courts. Spindrift–the 4900 block–I skimmed numbers.
24, 38, 74. 4980: a two-deck stucco dive, abandoned.
One light on-downstairs left, the door open.
I walked up.
An empty living room–cobwebs, dusty floor–Schoolboy Johnny standing there calm.
No jacket, empty holster–trust me.
Trust shit–watch his hands.
“Are you grieving for Junior, Johnny?”
“What do you know about Stemmons and me?”
“I know he made you for the fur heist. I know that other stuff doesn’t count.”
“Other stuff” made him blink. Ten feet apart–watch his hands.
“He had evidence on you, too. He felt terrible things for certain people, and he collected evidence on them to even things out.”
“We can work out a deal. I don’t care about the fur job.”
“You don’t know the half”–eye flickers craaaazy.
Footsteps behind me.
My hands pinned/my mouth cupped–smothered/my sleeves rolled up/stabbed.
* * *
Walking air–tunnel vision–peripheral grass. Tingles/flutters up my groin/toasty warm.
Side doorways, shoes, trouser legs flapping.
Elbow dipped, shoes on concrete, right turn–