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We clipped the lights off and climbed into a closet。 Cockroaches flipped off the floor and flew into our mouths。 We gagged and hacked ourselves hoarse。 We reflex…retched and bit the bastards into puslike pulp。 We spat out roach residue and heard a rumbleright by the bungalow door。
A V…8 voom。 Tire treads grinding gravel。 Vigorous voices。 A key…in…door cacophony。 THE Voice： 〃Some fucking dump。 And check those bugs on the dresser。〃
A barrel…chesty baritone： 〃I'll check the closet。 Maybe there's some spray。〃
I scooped up a scad of roaches and got ready to rock。 Sammy popped into a pile…driver pose。 The closet door swung and swept outward。
I bug…bombed Bob Duhamel。 Bugs buzzed into his mouth and dive…bombed down his throat and crawled all over his crew cut。 Sammy slammed him in the slats and slipped his gun from his hip holster。
Bad Bob flailed and flapped his hands。 He belched bug bile and gurgled goo。 He hit the floor hard。 Sammy slipped a beavertail sap off his belt and bopped him in the balls。 I unhooked his handcuffs and hitched his hands behind his back。
Sinatra watched it all wicked wise。 He swirled a martini and swayed sweet to some bedazzled beat。 He blew smug smoke rings coooooolly concurrent。 Frigidaire Frankthe hip hero and ad for greasy grace under pressure。
He said； 〃What have we got here； the Lone Ranger and Tonto？ What's shakin'； kemo sabe？〃
Bugs bopped out of Bad Bob's mouth。 Sammy slapped slivers of tape across it and muffled him mute。 I slipped the syringe out of Sammy's shirt pocket and watched shimmering shit shoot up the shaft。
Sinatra said； 〃Are you clowns on the junk？ Sambo； I'm shocked； and I may just have to snitch you off to the NAACP。〃
I laughed and lunged at him。 We collided。 I got martinimottled and smoke…smacked。 I grabbed a grip of greasy hair and tore off Frank's toupee。 Frank squealed。 I squeezed his neck and nailed my needle into a vibrating vein。 I pushed the plunger and jacked jungle juice in his jugular。
Sammy said； 〃You're in for a wild ride； Paisan。〃
I tossed Freon Frank on the frayed bedspread。 Bugs sidled on his Sy Devore suit。 Frank was fricasseed； french…fried； and fresh out of cool。 I froze the moment in my mind。
Sammy juked the jumper cable cords out to Frank's Lincoln and whipped the hood wide。 He leaned on the gas。 He bolted the blue hooks to the battery box。 Sparks spit out。 I slid the cords under the door slit and shut us in torture…tight。 Sammy tore the tape off Bad Bob's mouth。 I ran the red hooks right under his eyes。
Sparks spun out and spanked him。 They sizzled and singed and browned his brows。
Frank said； 〃I am personal friends with many well…placed men in La Cosa Nostra。〃
Bad Bob said； 〃You wouldn't dare。〃
I hitched the hooks to his hands and hurled him some horsepower。 He vibrated to V…8 volts and flapped on the floor。
I unhitched the hooks and watched him undulate。 I said； 〃All of it。 No lies and no omissions。〃
Bad Bob shook with the shimmy…shimmy shock…induced shakesand flew with a flinty； 〃Fuck you。〃
I anchored the hooks to his ankles。 Bad Bob buckled and bent back and did a spectacular spine…spin。
I unhooked the hooks。 I heard him ululate。 His pelvis popped。 His legs lashed。 He spasm…spun and spit sparks。
Sammy said； 〃Dig it！〃 He was hopped up on honky hate。 He looked like that jigabooJomo Kenyatta。
Freon Frank was frazzled in fright。 The acid was assimilating assiduously。
Bad Bob yipped and yelled； 〃All right！〃
I bent low。 Bad Bob blurted and blubbered at me。 His tongue and teeth palpitated off his palate and pried out words prestissimo：
〃Linda blew everything when she shook down Frank to get her song some playthen Skip Towne got hip to it and tipped you offand you wrote your piece in 〃Hush…Hush〃and Miller Leavy read it and figured that Frank's name would give him some flicking marquee valueand he could get a probe goingbut then he learned what Linda really had on Frank and got fucking scared and I don't know what that was； but。 。 。〃
Leavy and Bad Bob bopped back to the Barbara Graham case。 Dot Rothstein ran with them。 Liz Scott scoffed at the skinny that Linda and Frank were fresh stuff。 She tattled the truth to me。 She said； 〃Linda and Frank had innings going back to '52〃/〃Linda had some dirt on him； and she used it。〃
Barbaric Barb murdered Mabel Monahan。 The date of doom： 3/9/53。
？？？？？
I bent down to Bad Bob's level。 I waved my cable hooks。 I caught a wiff of scorched skin。
〃Does the dirt that Linda has on Frank pertain to the Barbara Graham case？〃
Bad Bob nodded No and went knock…kneed。 My internal lie detector measured him as mendacious。 I hitched my hooks to his nose。
He danced。 He did the Voltage Voom and the Convoluted Convulsion。 He did the Stultified Stomp and the Sinful Sizzle and the Gyroscope Gyration。 He did the Tijuana Termination Tango
I unhitched the hooks。
Bad Bob blubbered； blathered； and bled。 I renamed him Rudolph the Red…Nosed Reindeer。
Sammy said； 〃Dig it！〃
Frank squirmed and squealed； 〃Mommy！〃
Bad Bob almost bought it。 I couldn't kill him yet。 He played into my Pedro Pimentel plan。
I said； 〃Lay out the rest of it。〃
Bad Bob noodled his nose on the floor and fluffed out a follical flame。 He ffipped away from me and laid it out largo：
〃Linda Lansing runs shakedowns on politicians in L。A。 with Dot Rothstein。 Pedro Pimentelthe Police Chief down here he bankrolls them。 The spic we shot in the parking lot was Pedro's kid brotherhe was a plant at the Dining Carbut I didn't know that。 Lots of lawyers and politicians eat at the Car and talked around him because they thought he didn't speak Englishand Miller Leavy picked up lots of tips that way。 Getchell you fuck you pulled that fucking reefer number and flicked things upand Frank fucked things up by insisting that we kick your ass at the Carand I don't know where Linda isand her and Dot are into all kinds of shady shitand all this started because we didn't want Linda to spill what she had on Frankand I came down here to frost you out and frost things out with Pedro 'cause we killed his fucking brother by accident and。 。 。 and。 。 。 we。。 。 tr…tr…tr 。 。 。〃
His traumatized transmission trailed off into trills。 He passed out from aftershock affliction。
He didn't know that Linda Lansing slid off to Slice City。 He didn't label Linda as an heistress hot to move millions in mink。 He refused to reveal the ripe revelation now ripping me：
Frantic Frank and Barbaric Barb。
？？？？？
Frantic Frank squirmed and squealed； 〃Mommy！〃 His eyes： blurred blue and dialated from diethylamide。
Sammy said； 〃Dig it！〃
Frank Sinatra：
Uncontrollably uncool。 Umbilically unattached and hopelessly unhip from here to Hoboken。
He moaned for his mama。 He mewed for his Mafia mentor 〃Momo〃 Giancana。 He pounded his pillows and petitioned Raymond L。 S。 Patriarcathe prize prick with the Providence Mob。
Sammy tortured and tormented him。 Sammy shanked him for the shit he shot his way。 Sammy shucked him on his wives and the way they wanted it wild and blasphemously black。 Frank moaned for mama and made mea culpa motions and put out papist pleas