Parker pulled Mike and Dick off the klubhaus job. Pinker stymied Jack H. there. Elmer Jackson put Mike in Queen of Angels. Call-Me-Jack nixed reprisals. Parker has adroitly nullified one Dudley Liam Smith.
Salvy was late. Dudley chain-smoked. He conceded Fear. Parker’s machinations depleted his ranks. They left him with Hideo Ashida, todos.
Hideo was newly war-hired. He was partnered up with lackluster Lee Blanchard. Jackson and Meeks were off to hell and gone. Their partnership spelled chaos. Hideo came through and supplied hope.
Brilliant lad. He turned up an old Arson Squad accelerant swatch. It derived from the Griffith Park fire. He compared it to a klubhaus-blaze swatch and got a match. The match linked two crimes spaced nearly nine years apart.
Dudley chain-smoked. He conceded Fear. The Wolf bodyguarded him. Constanza returned to La Paz. He missed her. His union with Claire had imploded. Beth was poised in retreat. The promotion-party incident unhinged her. Claire was up in L.A. She was prowling for new lovers there. He knew that.
Salvy was late. More Mex soldaten arrived. They drove custom-fitted U.S. confiscations. Special tailpipes. Hood-mounted BARs. Bleeding-saint and snarling-panther paint jobs.
They stomped three abreast. They entered the cantina and commandeered outside tables. They pinched waitresses and demanded fast service. “Neutral” Mexico. Soon to be Allied-allied. Axis in temperament and aesthetic.
Salvy showed. A car appeared, he appeared, el carro peeled off. Salvy employed Greenshirt flunkies. They chauffeured him and groomed him. He appeared more than arrived.
Dudley stood up. They exchanged abrazos. Hail-fellows-well-met. Men’s men, por vida. Two damn good backslappers.
“My dear comrade.”
“Mi mayor. Will you be content to stop there, or do you wish to rise to four-star general?”
Dudley laughed. “I’m a police sergeant in my heart and soul, lad. I was one when this war started, and I’ll be one when this war ends.”
Salvy laughed. “You are an entrepreneur, a strategist, and a treasure seeker. I am humbled and gratified by your generous pledge to our shared cause.”
Dudley poured two beers. They clicked tankards and sat down at the table. The Wolf trembled. That cliffside drop loomed.
Dudley lit a cigarette. “I bear discomfiting news from Los Angeles. My errant police colleagues are determined to round up a large number of young Mexican men, who they believe may have frequented that damnable klubhaus. I’m afraid that quite a few stout Sinarquista lads may fall into this melee. My colleagues are looking for guns, sold out of the klubhaus. You had assured me our East L.A. lads were not klubhaus affiliates, but I need you to convincingly reassure me now.”
Salvy lit a cigarette. “Yes, of course. I am grateful to have been informed of this, and you have my most sincere reassurance.”
Dudley sipped beer. It was warm. The Wolf prowled adjacent tables. He sniffed raucous Mex soldiers and growled.
“I require another assurance, as well. I proffer this request couched in my utmost respect for you as a comrade and a man. I have become involved with Constanza Lazaro-Schmidt, and I have been informed that you are her occasional lover. I request that you terminate this relationship, and that you sever all contact with Constanza immediately.”
Salvy blinked once. Dudley blinked once. Salvy stubbed out his cigarette. His veins pulsed.
“You have my assurance, but I will issue a warning along with it. Constanza and her brother are shamefully as one, and they are more utilitarian than ideologically fascist. I have given you my pledge and additional caveat, and we need not mention this matter again. I commend you for not threatening me and blowing this trivial request out of proportion.”
The Wolf growled. He smelled Salvy’s rage. He saw his pulsing veins and incipient tremors. Salvy checked his wristwatch. He went uno, dos, tres — and winked.
The cantina exploded. It went up, just like that. It’s a fireball. There’s blasted-out glass and wood shrapnel. There’s smoke, flames, and palm trees ignited. Detonation equals earthquake.
The outside soldaten ran for their cars. They trampled civilians and kicked over tables and chairs. They tumbled into their taco wagons and slammed bumpers, en masse. It was straight from the Keystone Kops.
The inside soldaten ran outside. They stumbled over scorched timber and screamed. Twelve men, todos. They pitched crazy-spastic, in flames.
Salvy said, “Priest-killers and nun-rapers. Redshirts of the Calles regime.”
A car pulled off the coast road and skidded into the lot. Four Greenshirts piled out. They held sawed-off shotguns. They dodged flying debris and ran up to the burning men.
They pumped buckshot into them. They severed limbs on fire. A burning man staggered and knocked over tables. Dudley pulled his piece and fumbled it. The burning man got close. Salvy pulled his piece and shot him dead.
92
Kay Lake’s Diary
(Los Angeles, 2:00 P.M., 3/9/42)
Annie Staples arrived in her work clothes. That meant tartan skirt, crewneck sweater, and saddle shoes. She was Elmer and Brenda’s college girl, and pitched her charms to men thrice her age. Brenda set up the lunch and urged Annie to be forthcoming. We met at Jack’s Drive-in on the Strip.
Annie was blond. She was tall, leggy, and busty, and hailed from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. We dined in my car. Monarch burgers and pineapple malts. I understood Annie’s allure. She was all college girl. Bill Parker would flip for her.
We made small talk during our lunch; Annie guilelessly dished on her tricks and told me she once spent a cozy weekend with the allegedly straitlaced Thad Brown. She tricked with Wendell Willkie during the ’40 campaign, and said he was a sweetheart. Our carhop skated by and removed our trays; we lit cigarettes and settled down to business.
I said, “Brenda saw you with Sid Hudgens at Tom Breneman’s. I sense a story there.”
Annie blew smoke rings. “Well, I’d call it a complicated story.”
“Those are my favorite kind.”
“Brenda told me you know some of it already, because you know about her trick spots, and you’re such good friends with Elmer Jackson. She said you know Sid, and you’ve met Ed Satterlee, and they’re part of the story, too.”
I said, “L.A.’s a small town for a big town, and I’ve been ensnared with the PD for a good three years. You tend to run into men like that, in the course of things.”
Annie thought that was a hoot. She doused her cigarette in her coffee cup and chuckled a bit. She had changeling’s eyes. One veered blue, one veered green.
“You tend to run into men like that, and I tend to sleep with them. You could say I ran a parlay with Elmer, Sid, and Ed, and Ed was the one who put me to good use, beyond the old you know what.”
Elmer and I gabbed at Hideo Ashida’s swearing-in party. He spilled the beans. I told Annie that I was up to speed on her shakedown gig with Ed the Fed. The mark was Dr. Saul Lesnick. Elmer filled in for Ed behind the camera one night. He caught wind of Annie pumping Dr. Saul. It got him thinking — and Elmer thinks impulsively, at best.