L.A. Noir by James Ellroy

Author:James Ellroy
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective - General, Detective, Police Procedural, Murder, Crime & mystery, Mystery & Detective, Mystery, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Fiction - Mystery, General, Fiction, California, American, Detective and mystery stories, Suspense, Police, Los Angeles, Mystery & Detective - Police Procedural, Mystery fiction, Crime & Thriller, Los Angeles (Calif.)
ISBN: 9780892966868
Publisher: Mysterious Press
Published: 1998-06-08T07:00:00+00:00

BECAUSE THE NIGHT

331

almost taste the blood. And after a while, his nights were spent not listening, but cringing in anticipation of coming impacts. Lack of sleep drew Lloyd gaunt that fall of ’fifty-six, and he knew that he had to act to reclaim the wonder he had always felt after dark. Because the night was there to provide comfort and the nourishing of brave dreams, and only someone willing to fight for its sanctity deserved to claim it as his citadel.

Lloyd began his assault against death, first blocking off “Dead Dog Curve” at both ends with homemade sawhorse detour signs to prevent access to chicken players. The stratagem worked for two nights, until a gluesniffing member of the First Street Flats crashed his ’fifty-one Chevy through the barricade, sideswiping a series of parked cars as he lost control, finally coming to a halt by rear-ending an L.A.P.D. black-and-white. Out on bail the next day, the driver went looking for the puto who had put up the sawhorse, smiling when Dogtown buddies told him it was a crazy fourteen-year-old kid called Dogman and Savior, a loco who was planning to flop in a sleeping bag by Dead Dog Curve to make sure that nobody played chicken on his turf.

That night fourteen-year-old Lloyd Hopkins, six foot one and a hundred and eighty pounds, began the series of mano a mano choose-off’s that rendered the nicknames Dogman and Savior passé and earned him a new title:

“Conquistador.” The fights continued for ten nights straight, costing him a twice broken nose and a total of a hundred stitches, but ending chicken on Griffith Park and St. Elmo forever. When his nose was set for the second time and his swollen hands returned to their normal size, Lloyd quit the Dogtown Flats. He knew he was going to become a policeman, and it would not do to have a gang affiliation on his record.

The ringing of a telephone jerked him back to the present. He walked into the kitchen and picked it up. “Yes?”

“Hopkins, this is Linda.”

“What?”

“Are you spaced out or something? Linda Wilhite.”

Lloyd laughed. “Yeah, I am spaced out. How’s tricks?”

“Not funny, Hopkins, but I’ll let you slide because you’re spaced. Listen, I did just trick with Stanley, and I very subtly pried some not too encouraging info out of him.”

“Such as?”

“Such as you were misinformed somehow. Stan baby has never heard of 332

L.A. NOIR

Goff. I described the picture you showed me to him, and he doesn’t know anyone resembling it. Ditto any left-handed man. Stan said he buys his stuff from a black guy who works solo. He did buy some stuff from a white guy, once, last year, but the guy charged too much. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“You were a lot of help. How did you get my phone number?”

Linda laughed. “You are spaced. From the phone book. Listen, will you let me know how this turns out?”

“Yes. And thanks, Linda.”

“My pleasure. And by the way, if you feel like calling, you don’t have to have a reason, though I’m sure you’ll think one up.

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