Propped up in a straight-backed chair.
Feds.
“Jim, have this typed and see that Mr. Noonan gets a carbon.”
A sweat hole. Will Shipstad, two G-men. A table, chairs, a steno rig.
Shipstad: “He’s coming to. Jim, get Mr. Noonan.”
One Fed walked. I stretched–kinks and aches head to toe.
Shipstad: “You know me, Lieutenant. We met at the Embassy Hotel.”
“I remember.”
Side 146
Ellroy – White Jazz
“This is my partner, Special Agent Milner. Do you know where you are?”
My Jap sword–wide screen/color.
“Do you want to see a doctor?”
“No.”
Milner–fat, cheap cologne. “Are you sure? You’re looking a little raggedy-ass.”
“No.”
Shipstad: “Witness that Mr. Klein refused medical attention. What about an attorney? Being one yourself, you know that we have the right to hold you for questioning.”
“I waive.”
“You’re sure?”
Johnny–Jesus God.
“I’m sure.”
“Bill, witness that Mr. Klein was offered and refused legal counsel.”
“Why am I here?”
Milner: “Look at yourself. The question should be where have you been?”
Shipstad: “We picked you up at 67th and Central. A short time prior to that, the Bido Lito’s club was arsoned. We had agents in the vicinity on general surveillance, and one of them heard a witness talking to LAPD detectives. The witness said he was walking by Bido Lito’s shortly after the club closed for the night and saw a broken front window. Seconds later the place caught fire. That certainly sounds like a firebombing to me.”
Milner: “Three people died in that fire. So far, we’re assuming it was the club’s two owners and the cleanup man. Lieutenant, do you know how to concoct a Molotov cocktail?”
Shipstad: “We’re not suggesting that _you_ torched Bido Lito’s. Frankly, the condition we picked you up in suggests that you were incapable of lighting a cigarette. Lieutenant, look how this appears. Two nights ago, five people were killed at an after-hours club in Watts, and a somewhat reliable source told us that Ed Exley and Bob Gallaudet exerted a great deal of pressure to keep the details under wraps. _Now_, the following morning your colleague Sergeant George Stemmons, Jr., is found dead at Bido Lito’s. Chief Exley feeds the press a song and dance about a heart attack, when we’ve heard that it was most likely a self-inflicted heroin overdose. _Now_, forty-odd hours after _that_, Bido Lito’s is torched, and _you_ drive by not long after in a state that indicates narcotic-induced intoxication. Lieutenant, do you see how all this appears?”
Kafesjian setup. Johnny D. gouting blood–
Milner: “Klein, are you with us?”
“Yes.”
“Do you routinely use narcotics?”
“No.”
“Oh, just occasionally?”
“Never.”
Side 147
Ellroy – White Jazz
“How about submitting to a blood test?”
“How about releasing me on a prima facie evidence writ?”
Milner: “Hey, he went to law school.”
Shipstad: “Where were you coming from when we picked you up?”
“I refuse to answer.”
Milner: “Sure, on the grounds that it might incriminate you.”
“No, on the grounds of nonincriminating information disclosure as detailed in _Indiana v. Harkness, Bodine, et al._, 1943.”
“Hey, he went to law school. You got anything to add to that, hotshot?”
“Yeah, you’re a fat piece of shit and your wife fucks Rin-Tin-Tin.”
Cardiac red–fat shitbird. Shipstad: “_Enough_. Lieutenant, where were you?”
“Refuse to answer.”
“What happened to your service revolver?”
“Refuse to answer.”
“Can you explain the unkempt condition we found you in?”
“Refuse to answer.”
“Can you explain the blood on your shirt?”
Johnny begging–
“Refuse to answer.”
Milner: “Something getting to you, hotshot?”
Shipstad: “Where were you?”
“Refuse to answer.”
“Did _you_ torch Bido Lito’s?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“No.”
“Did the LAPD do it as revenge for Stemmons’ death?”
“No, you’re crazy.”
“Did Inspector George Stemmons, Sr., order the torch?”
“I don’t–no, you’re crazy.”
“Did _you_ torch Bido Lito’s to avenge your partner’s death?”
“No”–getting light-headed.
Milner: “We don’t smell liquor on your breath.”
Shipstad: “Were you under the influence of narcotics when we found you?”
“No.”
Side 148
Ellroy – White Jazz
“Do you use narcotics?”
“No”–speaker lights on the wall–listeners somewhere.
“Were you forcibly administered narcotics?”
“No”–a good guess–JOHNNY CO-STAR. The door opened–Welles Noonan stepped in.