Джеймс Эллрой - This Storm

The Taj. A coon verted garage at 28th and Budlong. He schmoozed the clerk and got her phone number. She just loooooved policemen. He brought up his friend Ruth Szigeti. She played the violin. She recorded a Bartók piece, here at the Local. That was three nights back. The quartet worked dusk to dawn.

The clerk went nix. She worked the late shift that night. No such quartet passed through.

That’s 0 plus 1 equals 1. Add this to that:

Ruth lied to him. Ruth came off flustered that last time they gassed. He talked to Nort Layman. Dr. Nort autopsied Meyer Gelb. Dr. Nort confirmed his I Was There/I Saw The Stiff call.

Gelb was cold. Frankie Carbajal didn’t snuff him. Nort fixed the TOD as 2:00 a.m. The torture cuts were inflicted postmurder. Said cuts were all fussy. It felt like a squeamish-woman job. The small-bore gun, the cuts, the prissy gestalt. Cherchez la fucking femme.

1 plus 1 equals 2. 2 plus 2 equals 4. Gelb was a shakedown man. He extorted Ruth and her refugee chums. He victimized Ruth. La Ruth brooked no shit from man or beast. That’s 4 plus 4 equals 8. 8 equals confirm or refute.

Bennies and booze equals pins and needles and juiced-up intent. Elmer got out and breezed through the courtyard. It was pin-drop quiet. Ruth’s door was locked.

He got out his pick set. He pulled a thin-edge pick and jabbed the keyhole. He pushed deep and rode the door in.

He shut the door. The front room looked okay. No hink details jabbed him. He walked through the kitchen. It smelled like fried eggs. Ruth left her breakfast dishes out. No hink details jabbed him.

He shinnied through the bedroom and checked out the porch. A taut clothesline ran through it. Damp clothes were pinned on.

Two brassieres. One camisole. One pinned-up white blouse. Spots down the front of it. Almost removed. Blood red fades to pale pink.

Elmer cut back to the bedroom. He’d slept with Ruth here. He knew the layout. He went straight for the one chest of drawers.

The top drawer featured underwear. He ran a hand through it. The middle drawer featured scarves and folded skirts. He ran a hand through it. His hand hit metal. He pulled a small revolver out.

A purse gun. 25-caliber. A five-shot cylinder. 1 plus 1 equals 2.

Elmer sniffed the barrel. He caught cordite fumes. He broke the cylinder. He saw one shell gone.

The front door jiggled. Stacked heels tapped the floor. He caught cigarette smoke and bath scent.

She walked straight to the bedroom. He gave her a heartbeat to see him. She stopped short. He turned around.

She wore a flower-print dress and a mousy cardigan. He held up the gun. She grabbed an ashtray off the bookcase and crushed her cigarette.

“So?”

“So, why?”

“So, what can one more death mean to me now?”

Elmer shook his head. “You’ll have to do better than that. I don’t want to hear ‘the war made me do it.’ ”

Ruth said, “He called me and ordered me to his apartment. He ordered me to lure Otto Klemperer into my bed and make him admit his Communist Party allegiance. I told him that he had created enough chaos, and condemned him for the idiotic ideals his idiotic alliance had foisted upon us. I was enraged in that moment. I demanded the gold that I had heard so many rumors of. I told him that I would use it to ransom Jews out of Germany. He said, ‘Why should I care about Jews?’ I knew he was Fritz Eckelkamp then, and that was when I shot him.”

She was touch-me close. He smelled her breath and counted her gray hairs.

“It’s a gas-chamber job. You’d do better with a jealous-lover plea.”

“What will you do?”

Elmer said, “I don’t know.”

The Taj was unlicensed and nouveau-swank. It was couched behind a house row. Four garages got bulldozed and comprised one cabaret. The refurb job was par excellent.

You had booths, tables, and a raised bandstand. There’s an ebony bar and blue-flocked wallpaper. It’s a boss swami’s playpen.

You had standard booze and bootleg booze. There’s absinthe and Everclear. You’ve got colored waitresses in saris. The Taj welcomes a race-mixed clientele.

Elmer and Buzz showed early. They grabbed a prime wallside booth. They figured they’d take Chuckie backstage. Chuckie foxed them there. He was onstage with his sidemen already. Chuckie played bass sax. A white dink played trombone. A black hepcat played fluegelhorn.

Chuckie was tall and blond. He ran six-two and 140, tops. He sported a ducks-ass haircut. He wore zoot pants and a plaid Sir Guy shirt.

Buzz craved results. Let’s move now. Elmer nixed it. Let’s wait. Johnny Shinura might show. A Chuckie’s gal-pal type might materialize.

The Taj filled up. A good crowd filtered in. They snatched the wallside booths and floor tables. They swarmed the bar. They flirted and gassed. They craved Le Jazz Hot and distraction.

Elmer and Buzz drank Green Lizards. Their swell waitress made them as cops. Green Lizards were 151 rum and crème de menthe. Buzz was half-tanked. Elmer was benzified out of his gourd. Killer Ruth ruled his thoughts.

The combo tuned up. Kid Lightning and his Bolts from the Blue. They honked and blatted. The blue motif prevailed. Blue spotlights lit them up.

The low ceiling trapped cigarette smoke. Elmer and Buzz orbed the premises. Where’s Sword Man Johnny? Where’s the Gal Pal? Elmer watched the door. Oooga-booga. Dudley Smith walked in.

Elmer nudged Buzz and pointed over. Looky, looky. Dud wore civvies and looked whippet thin.

Buzz clenched up. Dud walked to the bar. He ordered a drink and glanced around. Elmer and Buzz were perched off aways. Dud didn’t see them. Dud eyed the bandstand and Chuckie D.

The Bolts tuned up. Chuckie’s king-sized sax weighed him down. Elmer watched the door. Race-mix cliques filed in. Hideo Ashida followed them.

Elmer nudged Buzz and pointed over. Looky, looky. Buzz saw Ashida. Hideo stood barside. He saw Dudley. Elmer and Buzz caught that, plain. Dud was preoccupied. He missed Ashida and eyeballed Chuckie D.

The music wasn’t music. It was fucking noise stew. Elmer killed his drink and watched the door. Where’s the gal pal? What does she look like? Fuck — Johnny Shinura walked in.

Elmer saw him. Buzz saw him. They swapped oooga-booga looks. Ashida saw Johnny. Elmer caught that. Dud missed Johnny altogether. He sipped his drink and eye-drilled Chuckie D.

Ashida stood upside the pay phone. He eye-clicked Dud to Johnny. Jap Johnny stood tiptoed and waved his arms at the bandstand. Chuckie caught it and unstrapped his sax.

Chuckie tromped Johnny’s way. Dud caught it. He unbuttoned his coat and touched his belt piece. Oooga-booga. A colored doorman braced Johnny. Hit the road, Tojo. We don’t seat no Japs.

Ashida crouched by the pay phone. The doorman missed him. Johnny pitched a fit. I’m an American, Sambo. You’re just some nigger to me.

Folks looked over. Folks hubbubbed. Johnny pitched that loud fit. The doorman pulled a waistband sap and swung it. Johnny pulled a hip piece.

He drilled the doorman. Two shots echoed. The doorman collapsed and convulsed. Folks started screaming.

Chuckie flinched. Chuckie did this big double take. Chuckie made the big man at the bar.

Dud caught it. They drew down simultaneous and fired point-blank. Chuckie blew out a shelf of booze bottles. Dud shot muzzle-tight. Chuckie’s face blew up, muzzle-burned. His hair shot flames.

Buzz froze and unfroze. Elmer froze and unfroze. They stood up and unholstered late-late. Ashida stumbled toward Dudley. Elmer and Buzz aimed and let fly.

More bottles exploded. Elmer shot high and off left. Buzz nailed Johnny. Sword man pitched back and shot back. His shots hit high and off right.