Hollywood Nocturnes by James Ellroy

Author:James Ellroy
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Published: 2009-12-26T18:45:32+00:00

DIAL AXMINSTER 6-400

Ellis Loew rapped on the pebbled glass door that separated LAPD Warrants from the Office of the District Attorney. Davis Evans, dozing in his chair, muttered "Mother dog." I said, "That's his college-ring knock. It's a personal favor or a reprimand."

Davis nodded and got to his feet slowly, befitting a man with twenty years and two days on the job--and an ironclad civil-service pension as soon as he said the words, "Fuck you, Ellis. I retire." He smoothed his plaid shirt, adjusted the knot in his Hawaiian tie, hitched up the waistband of his shiny black pants, and patted the lapels of the camel's hair jacket he stole from a Negro pimp at the Lincoln Heights drunk tank. "That boy wants a favor, he gonna pay like a mother dog."

"Blanchard! Evans! I'm waiting!"

We walked into the Deputy D.A.'s office and found him smiling, which meant that he was either practicing for the press or getting ready to kiss some ass. Davis nudged me as we took seats, then said, "Hey, Mr. Loew. What did the leper say to the prostitute?"

Loew's smile stayed glued on; it was obviously a big favor he wanted. "I don't know, Sergeant. What?"

"Keep the tip. Ain't that a mother dog?"

Loew put out his hail-fellow-well-met chuckle. "Yes, it's so simple that it has a certain charm. Now, the reason I--"

"What do you call an elephant that moonlights as a prostitute?"

Loew's smile spread into nasty little facial ties. "I . . . don't. know. What?"

"A two-ton pickup that lays for peanuts. Woooo! Mother dog!"

The Ted Mack Amateur Hour had gone far enough. I said, "Did you want something, Boss?"

Davis laughed uproariously, like my question was the real punch line; Loew wiped the smile remnants off his face with a handkerchief. "Yes, I do. Did you know that there was a kidnapping in L.A. four days ago? Monday afternoon on the USC campus?"

Davis kiboshed his stage chuckles; snatch jobs were meat and potatoes to him--the kind of cases he loved to work. I said, "You've got Fred Allen's interest. Keep going."

Loew twirled his Phi Beta Kappa key as he spoke. "The victim's name is Jane Mackenzie Viertel. She's nineteen, a USC frosh. Her father is Redmond Viertel, an oil man with a big string of wells down on Signal Hill. Three men in USC letter jackets grabbed her Monday, about two o'clock. It's rush week, so all the witnesses thought it was some sort of fraternity stunt. The men called the girl's father late that night and made their demand: a hundred thousand dollars in fifties. Viertel got the money together, then got frightened and called the FBI. The kidnappers called back and set up a trade for the following day in an irrigation field up near Ventura.

"Two agents from the Ventura office set up a trap, one hiding, one posing as Viertel. The kidnappers showed up, then it all went haywire."

Davis said, "Wooooo," and cracked his knuckles; Loew grimaced at the sound and continued. "One of the kidnappers found the agent who was hiding.

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