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Dawn。
I dashed back to Delores's Drive…In and dipped by at a safe distance。 I drove one…handed and drilled the dive with my Bausch binoculars。
Copsa bevy of bulls from the Beverly Hills PD。 Two guys swinging the sweaty swish onto a sheet…shrouded stretcher。 A biiiig bull bracing Ben Luboffnellyingly nervous and limpwristedly lily…white now。 Shit shaking inside the shackdrones dripping print powder on the symbiotically symbolic closed closet door。 Checking it out： Chief Clinton Anderson。
I fought a fit of foul flicking fear： I fondled that door and forgot to wipe my prints。
I buzzed by the BHPD Building。 By the back door： two bulls and Buddy 〃Bug King〃 Berkow。 Buddy looked beat on。 I knew the bulls had bopped him with beaver…tail saps。
I bombed my Buick out of Beverly Hills。 I ran my radio for random newscasts。 KMPC coughed up crap on Croatian mies and switched to a swift bit on the sweaty swish。
A mentator called it a suicide。 Clinton Anderson confirmed the call conclusively。
I was prespiringly perplexed and pulsatingly puzzled。 I sent up guarded thanx to my guardian angel and dipped the dial to the BHPD band。
〃All BHPD units only； APB on Daniel Douglas Getchell； G…E…T…C…H…E…L…L； white male； 28； 61； 18o； brown and brown； driving a 1953 Buick Skylark； license G…B…D； 88z。 Be advised； BHPD units only； approach and bring to station。〃
What？a pristinely private bulletin to bag me。 A BHPD exclusiveto swing with the sweaty swish 〃suicide。〃
I felt bad boogie bopping my way。 I bombed to Burbank and breezed by Brad's Auto Dump。 I boosted fresh plates off an old Oldsmobile and placed them over my plates。 I plowed back to L。A。 and mainlined myself to the L。A。 〃Times〃 morgue。
I felt intertwined intrigues interdicting me。 I played a 〃Hush…Hush〃 hunch and read reports on recent Beverly Hills burglaries。
Sixslickly slotted from late '57 to last week。 Ulceratingly unsolved。 Salivatingly similar stats： bedroom boosts while Mama and Papa went out to separate parties。 Large losses and no standard talk of stakeouts to bag the B&E bad boys。
Bad BHPD boogie bopping my way？ Twisted twirls and circles circumscribing me
I popped to a pay phone and called Steve Crane。 I told him to light out to the Luau lickety…split。
I beelined to Bedford Drive in Beverly Hills。 I Bausch & Lomb'd Lana Turner's backyard。 I saw Johnny Stompanato jump on Lana and lash out with limitlessly lewd language。 Lana lashed back。 She julienned Johnny with jive on his jilt…happy gigolo ways。 She spritzed spite。 She shot shit at him shamelessly。 She pounced on his pint…sized penis and his wicked welterweight dupe Don Jordan。 She called him a guinea gangster and said he poured the pork to her Mexican maid with his poquito pee…pee。 She said he pandered and pimped her and got her gussied up in her own Givenchy gown。
Some show： A bracing breakfast bash on beautiful Bedford。 Dig the all…star audience； perched on their porches with pancakes and poached eggs：
Dino； Duke Wayne； Walt Disney； wolfing Wheaties。 That white…haired wimp on 〃The Webster Webfoot Show〃。
Steve Crane said； 〃So I'm letting Don Jordan run girls out of here。 So Yolanda Paez brings me back the latest on Lana and Johnny。 So what？ You want to write the story up； great。 But it's the last you'll ever peep out of my peepholes。〃
The Luau was listlessly still。 Steve opened up early to meet me。 My meth jolt was melting down。 I mixed a mammoth martini to remagnetize it。
〃I think Johnny crashed Jordan's whore racket and lured Yolanda into it。 And I think the girls are the advance team for a burglary angle thatJohnny and Jordan are working。〃
Steve stirred his planter's punch and braced his back into the bar。 〃I'm sure there's lots of angles in this thing。 Yolanda told me the girls are hooking so they can bring their families up from Mexico and that Jordan will smuggle them across the border； get them kitchen jobs； and take a cut of their pay。 I can't plain。 He's promised me three dishwashers off his next run。〃
I said； 〃Don's a flicking sweetheart。〃
〃Yeah； and he may be the next welterweight champ。 I heard he's fighting Honeybear Akins in the fall。〃
〃And Mickey Cohen's got a piece of his contract。〃
〃Right； which is not exactly a news flash。〃
〃Does Mickey have some truck with Don？〃
〃He can calm him down and get him to call off some of his crazier stunts。 Why？〃
I gulped Gilbey's and Vermouth。 〃Nothing； but let me run some names by you。 Jack Hanson； Chick Nadell； James B。 Harris； Ted Jaffe； Russ Pearce〃
Steve stopped me。 〃All Luau regulars； all men with big fucking money。〃
I said； 〃All burglary victims that Don and Johnny's girls picked up here； all married men too embarrassed to cop to the fact that they let whores into their pads and got B&E'd as a result。〃
Steve said； 〃Jesus fucking Christ。〃 I said； 〃NoDaniel Douglas Getchell。 And listenJohnny and Don are operating a bit too freely in Beverly Hills。 Can you throw some light on that？〃
Steve drained his drink and munched a Maraschino cherry。 〃Clinton Anderson's got a regular john thing going with Yolanda。 He met her here； and she told me thatJohnny knows all about it。〃
Circling circles。 Puzzle pieces popping into place。
Chief Anderson chewed up Ben Luboff at Delores's Drive…In。 Ben blew the word： He'd dished me dirt on Don Jordan's doings。 The Chief charged him to silence。 The print pros took my prints off the closet door。 The Chief chewed things over and decided not to swear out a warrant on the sweaty swish homo…cide。 The Chief wanted to check me out up close and clip meI might be 〃Hush…Hush〃 hip to his yen for Yolanda。 I might make him as a Mexican whoremonger and Stompanato stooge。
Steve made himself a massive mai…tai。 He said； 〃Lana； it was so goooooooood with you； baby。〃
I said； 〃Call Yolanda。 Tell her I can get her a permanent green card； if she beds a guy who doesn't like girls。〃
I was 〃Hush…Hush〃 hot。 I was warrant…wanted and baited by a BHPD bounty。 I traded my boss Buick for a busboy's boogied…out wheels。 A real congo coach： coon maroon paint matched to matted mink seats。 I left the Luau in lieu of a new hideout hut。
I rocked up to the Rock's pad on Rosare Road and rang the bell。 Rock opened upregal and righteously razzed off in a royal blue kimono。 I caught sight of a kimono…clad cutie behind hima pretty punk pouting into page two of today's paper。
Rock ripped into me。 〃You're getting bold； Danny。 I usually find you going through my garbage or trying to crawl in my bedroom window。〃
The playmate flipped me the finger。 I blew him a bitchy kiss and latched a look on his 〃Herald…Express〃。 Wow！ A sharp shot of the sweaty swish sheet…shrouded and dead。
Rock reripped me。 〃An old friend of mine killed himself last night； and I'm in no mood to fuck around with a lowlife like you。〃
I deflated his diatribe。 〃I'm moving in with you。 You're going to hide me out； so I can flick Ben Luboff for fucking me； and fuck him for fucking you with that kid you flicked at the Fine Arts last night。〃
Rock rocked； rolled； listed； lurched； and landed in my arms。
I moved in。 I moved out of my Methedrine mode