Wayne said, "Is this a test?"
Pete said, "Yes."
o o o
Durslag lived on Torrey. Durslag lived middle-class. Durslag lived in the Sherlock Homes tract.
Said tract was a style clash. Mock Tudors and palm trees. Mock gables and sand lots. Mixed-message _mishegoss_.
It was dark. The house was dark. Clouds draped the moon.
Pete knocked. Pete got no answer. The garage door was up. They lounged inside.
Pete smoked. Pete got a headache. Pete popped aspirin. Wayne yawned. Wayne shadowboxed. Wayne fucked with a gooseneck lamp.
Milt dished on Sol. Milt said Sol was divorced. Good news-no women.
The wait dragged. 1:00 a.m. went south. They loitered. They stretched kinks out. They pissed the walls green.
There-
Headlights/the driveway/incoming beams.
Pete crouched. Wayne crouched. A Caddy pulled in. The beams dimmed. Sol got out. Sol sniffed-
What's that smoke sm-
He ran. Pete tripped him. Wayne threw him up on the hood. Pete grabbed the lamp. Pete whipped the neck down. Pete flashed light on Wayne.
"That's Mr. Tedrow. You used to work for his father."
Sol said, "Fuck you."
Pete flashed him. Sol blinked. Sol rolled off the hood. Wayne grabbed him. Wayne pinned him. Wayne pulled his sap out.
Pete flashed him. Wayne sapped him-tight shots-the ankles/the arms. Sol shut his eyes. Sol bit his lips. Sol squeezed up fists.
Wayne said, "Pull your crew out of the Land o' Gold."
Sol said, "Fuck you."
Wayne sapped him-tight shots-the ankles/the chest.
Sol said, "Fuck you."
Pete said, "Say yes twice. That's all we want."
Sol said, "Fuck you."
Wayne sapped him-tight shots-the ankles/the arms.
Sol said, "Fuck you."
Wayne sapped him. Pete flashed him. The bulb was bright. The bulb was hot. The bulb burned his face.
Wayne raised his sap. Wayne swung it. Pete stopped him short.
"One yes to me, one to Mr. Tedrow. Pull your crew. Do my people some liquor-board favors."
Sol said, "Fuck you."
Pete cued Wayne. Wayne sapped him-tight shots-the arms/the ribs. Sol balled up. Sol rolled. Sol clipped the hood ornament. Sol snapped a wiper blade.
Sol coughed. Sol choked. Sol said, "Fuck you, yes, okay."
Pete pulled the lamp up. The light bounced and fizzed.
"That's two 'yes's,' right?"
Sol opened his eyes. Sol had singed brows. Sol had scorched lids.
"Yeah, two. You think I want this as a steady diet?"
Pete pulled his flask-Old Crow bond-instant headache relief.
Sol grabbed it. Sol drained it. Sol coughed and flushed-Man-o-Manischewitz, that's good!
He winced. He rolled off the hood. He stood straight up. He grabbed the lamp. He bent the neck. He flashed light on Wayne.
"Your father told me some things about you, sonny boy."
Wayne said, "I'm listening."
"I could tell you some things about that sick hump."
Wayne bent the lamp down. The light bounced and fizzed.
"You can tell me. I won't hurt you."
Sol coughed. Sol hacked phlegm-thick and blood-infused.
"He said you had it bad for his wife. Like a little pervert puppy."
Wayne said, "And?"
"And you never had the gumption to act."
Pete watched Wayne. Pete watched his hands. Pete got in close.
Wayne said, "And?"
"And Daddy shouldn't preach, 'cause he's a sick hump as far as his wife is concerned."
Pete watched Wayne. Pete blocked his hands. Pete closed in close.
Wayne said, "And?"
Sol coughed. "_And_ Daddy has Mommy screw these guys that he wants to cultivate, _and_ Mommy had this unauthorized thing with a colored musician named Wardell Gray, _and_ Daddy beat him to death with his cane."
Wayne swayed. Sol laughed. Sol flipped his tie in his face.
"Fuck you. You're a punk. You're a hump like your daddy."
54
(Las Vegas, 9/14/64)
The Golden Gorge-11:00 p.m.
Twelve rooms. Sleepy braceros. Room #5-empty. Room #4-trysted up.
They showed at 9:00. They brought two cars. Kinman brought liquor. Janice brought the key.
Wayne watched. Wayne walked the parking lot. Wayne brought tools. Wayne brought lockpicks and a penlight.
Pervert pup. Hump like your-
The lot was dead. No loungers/no muchachos/no drunks flaked in cars. Room #5-no windows. Room #4-dark.
Wayne braced door 5. Wayne got his tools out. Wayne flashed the locks.
Eleven brown doors. One _green_ door as standout. One pervert-pup joke.
Wayne worked the picks. Wayne rotated clockwise and counter. Wayne tapped both locks.
His hands jumped. He dripped sweat. He gored his thumbs. Clockwise/reverse it/go count-
The top lock snapped.
He popped one tumbler. He wiped his hands. He popped one mo-
The bottom lock snapped.
Wayne wiped his hands. Wayne leaned on the door. Wayne rode the door and stepped in.
He shut the door. He flashed the room. It was small. It smelled familiar.
Old smells-_embedded_. Wayne Senior's booze. Wayne Senior's tobacco.
Wayne flashed the floor. Wayne flashed the walls. Wayne got the gestalt.
A chair. A sideboard. One ashtray/one bottle/one glass. One mirrorpeek. Room #4 access. A wall speaker/soundproof wall pads/a sound switch.
Wayne sat down. Wayne made the chair-surplus from Peru, Indiana. The peek was dark. Room #4 was dark. Wayne poured a drink.
He downed it. It singed. He rode the burn out. The peek was 3-by-3. The standard cop size-the stock mirror-mount.
Wayne hit the switch. Wayne heard Kinman moan. Wayne heard Janice moan counterpoint.
Janice moaned arch. Janice moaned smut-actress style-Stag Loop 101.
Wayne poured a drink. Wayne downed it. Wayne rode the burn out. Kinman came-ooo-ooo-ooo. Janice came concurrent. Janice came mezzofalsetto-smut meets the Met.
Wayne heard soft talk. Wayne heard giggles. Wayne heard speaker warp. A light went on. Room #4 flared.
Janice got out of bed. Janice stood up nude. Janice walked to her side of the mirror. She lingered. She posed. She grabbed her cigarettes off a dresser.
Wayne leaned in tight. Janice blurred. Wayne leaned way back to reframe. Kinman said something. Kinman murmured sweet talk. Kinman was oblivious. Kinman knew fuck-all.
Janice rubbed her appendix scar. Janice tossed her hair.
Her breasts swayed. Her hair tousled. She raised steam. She dripped sweat. She smiled. She licked a finger. She wrote "Junior" on the mirror.
(Dallas, 9/21/64)
Jim Koethe was queer.
He bolstered his crotch. He prowled fag bars. He brought boys home. Home was Oak Cliff-bumfuck Big D. Home was the Oak View Apartments.
Three floors. Outside walkways. All courtyard and streetside views.
Pete hogged a bus bench. Pete watched the pad. Pete carried a treat bag. 1:16 a.m.-fruit alert.
Koethe had a date. Koethe poked his dates for two hours. Pete knew Koethe. Pete knew Koethe's routine.
Wayne read the Dallas papers. Wayne passed a clip on. It pertained to Koethe's "book." It pertained to Koethe's pal Maynard Moore. Pete flew to Dallas. Pete tailed Koethe. Pete played scribe. Pete called Koethe's editor.
The guy ragged Koethe. Koethe was a jack-off. Koethe was Mr. Pipe Dream. Sure-they went to Ruby's crib. Sure-they talked to his roommate. But-the talk was all bullshit. The talk was all jive.
Conspiracy-shit. Read the Warren Report.
The guy was convincing-_but_-_Jim Koethe knew Maynard Moore_.