Kathy plucked a panda off the bed. “Duke was so messy and such a slob, but I didn’t care. He had a cute smile and this cute scar on his chest, and he never yelled at me. My daddy and Uncle Arthur always yelled at me, so Duke never did. Wasn’t that a nice thing to do?”
Bud left her with a hand squeeze. Halfway out to the street he heard her sobbing.
o o o
Back to the car, a brainstorm on the Cathcart play so far. Call Duke’s “new gig” and pimp intrigue weak maybes; call Nite Owl chiliburgers 99 percent sure the ink on his death warrant. A pimp statch raper and a grifter ex-cop for victims–strange–but par for the Hollywood Boulevard 3:00 A.M. course. Call it busywork for Dudley–maybe Cindy was hinked on more than the cash she held back. He could muscle the money out of her, glom some pimp scuttlebutt, close out the Cathcart end and ask Dud to send him down to Darktown. Simple–but Cindy was who-knowswhere and Kathy had him dancing to her rune: savior with no place to go. He snapped to something missing from the bulletins: no checkout on Cathcart’s apartment. A chance Duke’s whore book might be there–leads on his gig and the pimp he bought Kathy from–a good time-killer.
Bud headed over Cahuenga. He saw a red sedan hovering back–he thought he’d seen it by the motel. He speeded up, made a run by Cindy’s pad–no green De Soto, no red sedan. He drove to Silverlake checking his rearview. No tail car–just his imagination.
9819 Vendome looked virgin–a garage apartment behind a small stucco house. No reporters, no crime scene ropes, no locals out taking some sun. Bud popped the door with his hand.
A typical bachelor flop: living room/bedroom combo, bathroom, kitchenette. Lights on for a quick inventory–the way Dudley taught him.
A Murphy bed in the down position. Cheapie seascapes on the walls. One dresser, a walk-in closet. No doors on the bathroom and kitchenette–neat, clean. The whole pad looked spanking neat–at odds with Kathy: “Duke was so messy and such a slob.”
Detail prowls–another Dudley trick. A phone on an end table, check the drawers: pencils, no address book, no whore book. A stack of Yellow Page directories, a toss–L.A. County, Riverside County, San Bernardino County, Ventura County. San Berdoo the only book used–ruffled pages, a cracked spine. Check the rufflings: “Printshop” listings thumbed through. A connection, probably nothing: victim Susan Lefferts, San Berdoo native.
Bud eyeball-prowled, click/click/click. The bathroom and kitchen immaculate; neatly folded shirts in the dresser. The carpet clean, a bit grimy in the corners. A final click: the crib had been checked out, cleaned up-maybe tossed by a pro.
He went through the closet: jackets and slacks slipping off hangers. Cathcart had a nifty wardrobe–someone had been trying on his threads or this was the real Duke–Kathy’s slob–and the tosser didn’t bother with his clothes.
Bud checked every pocket, ever garment: lint, spare change, nothing hot. A click: a test to test the tosser. He walked down to the car, got his evidence kit, dusted: the dresser a sure thing for latents. One more click: scouring powder wipe marks. Nail the pad as professionally print-wiped.
Bud packed up, got out, brainstormed some more–pimp war clicks, clickouts–Duke Cathcart had two skags in his stable, no stomach for pushing a fourteen-year-old nymphet–he was a pimp disaster area. He tried to click Duke’s pad tossed to the Nite Owl–no gears meshçd, odds on the coons stayed high. If the tossing played, tie it to Cathcart’s “new gig”–Feather Royko talked it up-she came off as clean as Sinful Cindy came off hinky. Cindy next–and she owed Kathy money.
Dusk settling in. Bud drove to Cindy’s pad, saw the green De Soto. Moans out a half-cracked window–he shoved the sill up, vaulted in.
A dark hallway, grunt-grunt-grunt one door down. Bud walked over, looked in. Cindy and a fat man wearing argyles, the bed about ready to break. Fattie’s trousers on the doorknob– Bud filched a billfold, emptied it, whistled.
Cindy shrieked; Fats kept pumping. Bud: “SHITBIRD, WHAT YOU DOIN’ WITH MY WOMAN!!!!”
Things speeded up.
Fattie ran out holding his dick; Cindy dove under the sheets. Bud saw a purse, dumped it, grabbed money. Cindy shrieked willy-nilly. Bud kicked the bed. “Duke’s enemies. Spill and I won’t roust you.”