White Jazz Part 58

"Yes. And I don't feel bad about that young man Stemmons. I think he was in as much pain as Richie and Lucille were."

I emptied my pockets--big wads of cash.

"You're naive, Lieutenant. Money won't make J.C. and Tommy go away."

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

"EVERYTHING" = "MORE" = "BULLOCK."

Back to the trailer dump--a two-tone Packard in the lot. I jammed up behind it, spewing smoke.

Voices, feet kicking gravel.

Thick fumes--I got out coughing. Exley and two IA men--packing shotguns.

"Everything" means "more" means-- Fumes, gravel dust. Shotgun flankers, Exley sweating up a custom-made suit.

"Bullock killed the Herricks and trashed the Kafesjian place. How did you know--"

"I called Chino to get my own roster. That woman in the warden's office told me you went crazy over Bullock."

"Let's take him. And get those guys out of here--I _know_ he's got stuff on Dudley."

"You men wait here. Fenner, give the lieutenant your shotgun."

Fenner tossed it--I pumped a sh.e.l.l home.

Exley said, "All right then."

Now: We ran three rows over, six trailers down-civilians watched us slackjawed. That Airstream--radio hum, the door open-- I stepped in aiming; Exley squeezed in behind me. Two feet away: Wylie Bullock in a lawn chair.

This bland geek: Smiling.

Raising his hands cop-wise slow.

Spreading ten fingers wide--no harm meant.

I jammed the shotgun barrel under his chin.

Exley cuffed his hands behind his back.

Radio hum: Starfire 88's at Yeakel Olds.

"Mr. Bullock, you're under arrest for the murders of Phillip, Laura and Christine Herrick. I'm the LAPD chief of detectives, and I'd like to question you here first."

Monster's den: _Playboy_ pinups, mattress. Bullock: Dodger T-shirt, calm brown eyes.

I goosed him: "I know about you and Richie Herrick. I know you told him you'd get him revenge on the Kafesjians, and I'll bet you know the name Dudley Smith."

"I want a cell by myself and pancakes for breakfast. If you say that's okay, I'll talk to you here."

I said, "Make like you're telling us a story."

"Why? Cops like to ask questions."

"This is different."

"Pancakes and _sausage?_"

"Sure, every day."

Chairs circled up, the door shut. No Q&A/no notebooks--Maniac speaks:

June, 1937--Wylie Bullock, almost twelve-"I was just a kid, you dig me?"

An only child, nice parents--but poor. "Our flop was as small as this trailer, and we ate at this gin mill every night, because you got free seconds on the cold cuts."

June 22: A crazy blind man enters the tavern. Random shotgun blasts: his parents get vaporized.

"I got hospitalized, 'cause I was in some kind of shock."

Foster homes then--"some nice, some not so hot"--revenge dreams minus a bad guy--the shotgun man killed himself. Trade schools--a knack for cameras--"Old Wylie's a born shutterbug." Camera jobs, curiosity: 6/22/37--why?

Amateur detective Wylie-he kept pestering the cops. The brush-off: "They kept saying the case file was lost." Newspaper study: Sergeant Dudley Smith, investigating officer. Calls to now-Lieutenant Smith--none returned.

He haunted that tavern. Rumors haunted the place itself: bad bootleg trashed the shotgun man's eyes. He chased rumors: who sold bootleg whiskey back in '37?

Bad leads--years' worth--"like impossible to verify, you know?" Two rumors persistent: "dry-cleaning-cut hooch," "this Armenian guy--J.C."

He made a logical jump: the E-Z Kleen shops/J.C. Kafesjian. "I didn't have any proof--it just felt right. I kept a sc.r.a.pbook on the blind man case, and I had this picture of Sergeant Smith from '37."

"It was becoming like an obsession."

Supporting that obsession: camera work. Illegal: "I took s.n.a.t.c.h pictures and sold them to sailors and Marines up from Diego."

Obsession focus: the Kafesjians.

"I sort of circled around them. I found out J.C. and Tommy pushed dope and had these police connections. Lucille was a floozy, and Tommy was vicious. It was sort of like they were my pretend family. Tommy had this buddy Richie, and the two of them played this jazz music really lousy. I used to follow them, and I watched them get into some kind of big fallingout over Lucille. Richie got popped selling dope up in Bakersfield. He got sentenced to Chino, and I was in an E-Z Kleen shop one day, and I heard Tommy tell Abe Voldrich that when he got out Richie was dead meat."

Early '56--two bombsh.e.l.ls. .h.i.t him simultaneous: One--he's outside a Southside E-Z Kleen. Huddled up: J.C. Kafesjian and Dudley Smith--nineteen years older than that news pic.

Two--he gets popped selling s.n.a.t.c.h photos.

"I figured Dudley Smith and the Kafesjians were dirty together. I couldn't _prove_ anything, but I thought maybe Smith gave J.C. a skate on that poison liquor he sold. After a while I just believed it."

He started hatching revenge plots--this Eyeball Man inside him fed him plans. He pleaded guilty to selling p.o.r.nography--his lawyer said beg for mercy.

"At the County Jail this guy told me about the X-ray lab at Chinewhat a good job it was. I figured I could get ajob there if I got sentenced to State time, 'cause I knew so much about photography. See, I had a real plan now, and I wanted to do a Chino hitch so I could get next to Richie."

The judge hit him with three-to-five State. They bought his X-ray experience snow job: Wylie Davis Bullock, go to Chino.

"So I went to Chino and got next to Richie. He was a lonely kid, so I befriended him, and he told me this AMAZING G.o.dd.a.m.n story."

Amazing: The Kafesjians, the Herricks--who fathered whose children? Phil Herrick and J.C.--bootleg dealers back in the '30s. The blind man killings--Richie said yes, maybe-it might be Dudley Smith's wedge. Incest: maybe/quasi/brother/father perv stuff.

"I guarantee you you have never heard nothing to compare to the stuff Richie told me."

Richie, sissy/voyeur: "He told me he was in love with Lucille, but he wouldn't touch her because she might be his half-sister. He said he loved spying on her."

Richie, compulsive talker: "He put things together for me. I figured out enough about Dudley Smith to know that he met up with Herrick and Kafesjian some time right after the killings. I figured Smith got cozy with them and took bribes not to snitch that they brewed that liquor. I knew now. I knew these two crazy families killed my family."

Richie, talking vengeance on Tommy: "I knew he didn't have the b.a.l.l.s for it. I said just wait--I'll get you your revenge if you promise not to bother the Kafesjians."

Richie promised.

"Then his mother wrote him and went through this sob-sister suicide routine. Richie walked Chino--f.u.c.king minimum security, he just _walked_."

Richie stayed loose.

_He_ got paroled two months later.

"I tried to find Richie. I staked out the Kafesjian and Herrick houses, but I never saw him."

"That Lucille, though--wow. I used to watch her do the shimmyshimmy naked."

Months ticked by. "One day right before she killed herself I saw Old Lady Herrick leave a letter in her box for the postman. I snuck up and grabbed it, and it was addressed to Champ Dineen, this jazz clown that Richie worshipped. There was a P0 box address, so I figured Moms and Richie were working a mail-drop thing. I sent Richie a note at his box: 'Dig Lucille do the shimmy shimmy in her window. Now you be patient and I'll get you your revenge.'"

The note worked--months ticked by--he peeped Richie peeping Lucille. AMAZING: peeper Richie, amateur bug man--that electronics cla.s.s did him solid. He walked the straight and narrow himself--movie jobs, parole confabs--n.o.body knew the Eyeball Man kept his d.i.c.k hard-- "I started getting these wild ideas.

"The Eyeball Man said I should follow the Kafesjian guys and Dudley Smith around just for kicks.

"I was d.o.g.g.i.ng Smith one day. He had lunch with Mickey Cohen, and I grabbed a booth next to them. Cohen said he was fronting this horror movie shooting in Griffith Park, and this Sid Frizell guy who was directing it shot stag films on the side. Smith said he loved naughty movies, and that Cohen should tell Frizell he had a nice sound stage he could use. Cohen said Frizell was s.k.a.n.ky enough to take him up on it."

He hit the _Vampire_ set--"Man, was this f.u.c.k from hunger." He offered his camera services cut-rate; Cohen hired him; he gamed dumbf.u.c.k Sid Frizell--strapped for ideas. "I fed him these incestuous-type bits and all this blinding stuff, 'cause I figured one day I'd show Richie the finished-up movie. I told Frizell I had s.m.u.t experience, and he pestered this Cohen guy Chick Vecchio into talking to Smith. Smith gave the okay, so Frizell got to shoot his stuff at this dive down in Lynwood.

"So I got cozy close to things, but I still didn't have the f.u.c.king plan worked out. Then the Eyeball Man came through."

He said tweak the Kafesjians with a voodoo B&E. Put the onus on Richie-keep him scared--keep him hiding.

"So I did it. I guess it's like symbolism, 'cause the Eyeball Man told me exactly how to do things. I tried to blind the dogs with this dry-cleaning chemical, but that didn't work, so I pulled their eyes out. I broke liquor bottles to goose them on their bootleg gig, and I broke Tommy's records up 'cause the Eyeball Man said that would symbolize how Richie hated Tommy. Richie always hated Lucille whoring, so I cut her pedal pushers up and shot a load on them."

Wicked fun.

"The Eyeball Man said make Richie squirm, so I scoped him out at these motels, getting all weepy over Lucille, and I cut up his bed with this silverware I stole to spook him. There was lots of heat around the Kafesjians because of the B&E and the Fed thing, so the Eyeball Man told me to kill Phil Herrick early. The daughters came home unexpected, and the Eyeball Man said snuff them too. I figured Richie was a f.u.c.king escapee, so the cops would think he did it and snuff him on the spot."

Then?

"The Eyeball Man said kill Tommy and J.C. slow. He said rip Dudley Smith's eyes out and eat them."

Now?

"Pancakes and sausage, daddy-o. A nice safe cell for me and the Eyeball Man."

Licking his chops.

Flapjack batter on a shelf.

EVERYTHING.

Chest pings/headache/dry mouth--Dudley Smith meets the Eyeball Man.

Exley pointing at the door.

I followed him outside. Spooky sunlight--trailer-park geeks watching us.

"What's your a.s.sessment?"

Juke him/f.u.c.k him--LIE: "I want to take Bullock in to Welles Noonan. I'm dodging custody, and he can help me smooth things out. He's a key witness on Dudley and the Kafesjians, and if we cooperate with the Feds we can cut their probe off at the knees, especially with you giving them Narco."

"He's insane. He's not a valid witness."

"Yeah, but all he is to _us_ is a psycho. He's not even fit to stand trial."

"Gallaudet will get indictments. He'll prosecute him himself."

"Bob's dead. He was in with Dudley on some district gambling scheme. Dudley killed him."

Weak knees--I steadied him--Edmund Jennings Exley popping cold sweat.