Rambling–they couldn’t shut him up. Whalen laughed off the Englekling theory, digressed on L.A. organized crime.
Mob activity in a general lull since Mickey C. hit stir. The insider view: the Mick power broke, Swiss bank money tucked away–cash to rebuild with. Morris Jahelka, Cohen underboss, given a fiefdom–he promptly blew it, investing badly, no funds to pay his men. Whalen said _he_ was doing well and offered his Cohen theory.
He figured Mickey was parceling out bookmaking, loansharking, dope and prostitution franchises–small, choosy who they dealt with; when paroled he’d consolidate, grab the money the franchise men invested for him, rebuild. Whalen based his theory on hink: Lee Vachss, ex-Cohen trigger, seemed to have gone legit; Johnny Stompanato and Abe Teitlebaum ditto–two wrong-o’s who couldn’t walk a straight line. Make all three of them still on the grift–maybe safeguarding Cohen’s interests. Chief Parker–afraid the lull might lead to Mafia encroachment–just fielded a new front line against out-of-town muscle: Dudley Smith and two of his goons set up shop at a motel in Gardena: they beat gang guys half to death, stole their money for police charity contributions, put them back on the bus, train or plane to wherever they came from–all very much on the QT.
Whalen concluded:
_He’s_ allowed to operate because somebody had to provide gambling services or a bunch of crazy independents would shoot L.A. to shit. “Containment”–a Dudley S. word–said it all: the police establishment knew he only shot when shot at; _he played the game_. The idea of him or Mickey blasting six people over jack-off books was pure bullshit. Still, things were too quiet, shit had to be brewing.
Mickey Cohen, Jr., yipped; Ed looked up. Mickey Cohen walked in, holding a box of dog biscuits. He said, “I have never killed no man that did not deserve killing by the standards of our way of life. I have never distributed no obscene shit to be used for the purpose of masturbation and only took a confabulation with Pete and Bar Englekling because of my fondness for their late father, may God rest his soul even though he was a fucking kraut. I do not kill innocent bystanders because it’s a mitzvah not to and because I adhere to the Ten Commandments except when it is bad for business. Warden Hopkins told me why you was here and I made you wait because you must be stupid morons to make me for this vicious and stupid caper, obviously the handiwork of stupid shvartzcs. But since Mickey Junior likes you I will give you five minutes of my time. Come to Daddy, bubeleh!”
Gallaudet howled. Cohen knelt on the floor, put a biscuit in his mouth. The dog ran to him, grabbed the biscuit, kissed him. Mickey nuzzled the beast; Cohen Junior squealed, pissed. Ed saw a man on the catwalk: Davey Goldman, Mickey’s chief accountant, at McNeil on his own tax beef.
Goldman sidled away. Gallaudet said, “Mickey, the Englekling brothers said you went crazy when they mentioned Duke Cathcart was behind their idea.”
Cohen spat biscuit crumbs. “Are you familiar with the old saying ‘blowing off steam’?”
Ed said, “Yes, but what about other names? Did the Engleklings mention any other names besides Cathcart?”
“No, and Cathcart I never met myself. I heard he had a statch rape jacket, so I judged him on that. The Bible says, ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged,’ so since I am willing to be judged, I say, ‘Judge on, 0 Mickster.”‘
“Did you give the brothers any advice on setting up a distribution system?”
“No! As God and my beloved Mickey Junior are my witnesses, no!”
Gallaudet: “Mick, here’s the key question. Did you talk up the deal on the yard? Who else did you tell about it?”
“I told nobody! Jerk-off books are from sin and hunger! I even chased Davey away when those meshugeneh brothers came calling! Davey’s my ears, that’s how much I respect the cardinal virtue of confidentiality!”
Gallaudet said, “Ed, I called Russ Millard while you were talking to the warden. He said he checked with his Ad Vice guys on the pornography job, and they’ve got nothing. No Cathcart, no leads on the books. Russ went through all the Nite Owl field reports and got nothing. Bud White background checked Cathcart, and he reported nothing. Ed, Susie Lefferts from San Berdoo is just a coincidence. Cathcart couldn’t make a smut deal happen if he tried. This whole thing was the Engleklings’ buying out of some old warrants and a dog show.”