Shipstad, bait grabber: “Did he owe you money?”
“That’s right.”
Noonan: “I agree, provided a Federal agent goes with you to the bank.”
A contract in my face–fine print pulsing.
I signed it.
——–
“You sound resigned.”
“It’s all gota life of its own.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you should tell me things.”
“You don’t mention certain things. You call me from phone booths so you won’t have to.”
“I want to put it all together first.”
“You said it’s sorting itself out.”
“It is, but I’m running out of time.”
“You or we?”
“Just me.”
Side 167
Ellroy – White Jazz
“Don’t start lying to me. Please.”
“I’m just trying to put things straight.”
“But you still won’t tell me what you’re doing.”
“It’s this trouble Igot you in. Let it go at that.”
“I bought that trouble myself–you told me that.”
“Now you sound resigned.”
“Those Sheriff’s men came by again.”
“And?”
“And a cameraman told them we were sleeping together in my trailer.”
“Do they know I was hired to tail you?”
“Yes.
“What did you tell them?”
“That I’m free, white and twenty-nine, and I’ll sleep with whoever! want to.
“And?”
“And Bradley Milteer told them that you and Miciak had words. I said I met Miciak through Howard, and he was easy to dislike.”
“Good, that was smart.”
“Does this mean we’re suspects?”
“It means they know my reputation.”
“What reputation?”
“You know what I mean.”
“That?”
“That.”
“… Oh shit, David.”
“Yeah, ‘oh shit.'”
“Now you sound tired.”
“I am tired. Tell me–”
“I knew that was coming.”
“And?”
“And my clutch is still on the fritz, and Mickey asked me to marry him. He said he’d ‘cut me loose’ in five years and make me a star and he’s been behaving as oblique as David Douglas Klein at his most guarded. He’s got some kind of strange acting bug, and he keeps talking about his ~ue’and his ‘curtain calL
“And?”
“How do you know there’s more?”
“I can tell.”
Side 168
Ellroy – White Jazz
“Smart man.”
“_And?_”
“And Chick Vecchio’s been coming on to me. It’s almost like.. .”
“His whole attitude changed overnight.”
“Smart man.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
“But you won’t tell me what it’s _about?_”
“Just hold on for a few more days.”
“Because it’s all sorting itself out?”
“Because there’s still a chance I can force things our way.”
“Suppose you can’t?”
“Then at least I’ll know.”
“You sound resigned again.”
“It’s dues time. I can feel it.”
——–
L.A. _Herald-Express_, 11/21/58:
HANCOCK PARK SLAYINGS SHOCK CITY
The murders of wealthy chemical engineer Phillip Herrick, 52, and his daughters Laura, 24, and Christine, 21, continue to shock the Southland and confound the Los Angeles Police Department with their brazen brutality.
In the mid afternoon hours of November 19th, police surmise that a man invaded the comfortable Tudor style home where widower Phillip Herrick lived with his two daughters. Forensic experts have reconstructed that he gained access through a flimsily locked back door, fatally poisoned the family’s two dogs, then shot Phillip Herrick and employed gardening tools found on the premises to hideously mutilate both Mr. Herrick and the animals. Evidence indicates that Laura and Christine returned home at this point and surprised the killer, who similarly butchered them, showered himself free of their blood and donned clothes belonging to Mr. Herrick. He then either walked or drove away, accomplishing the bestial murders in something like near silence. Postal employee Roger Denton, attempting to deliver a special delivery package, saw blood on the inside den windows and immediately called police from a neighboring house.
“I was shocked,” Denton told Herald reporters. “Because the Herricks are nice people who had already had their fill of tragedy.”
FAMILY NO STRANGER TO TRAGEDY
As police began a house-to-house canvassing for possible witnesses and lab technicians sealed the premises off to search for clues, neighbors congregating outside in a state of horrified confusion told reporter Todd Walbrect of tragic recent turns in the family’s affairs.
For many years the Herricks seemed to enjoy a happy life in affluent Hancock Park. Phillip Herrick, a chemist by trade and the owner of a chemical manufacturing business that supplied industrial solvents to Southland machine shops and dry-cleaning establishments, was active in the Lions Club and Rotary; Joan (Renfrew) Herrick did charitable work and headed drives to feed indigent skid row habituÈs festive Thanksgiving dinners. Laura and Christine matriculated at nearby Marlborough Girls’ School and UCLA, and son Richard, now 26, attended Side 169