Neon Nights: Daymond Runyon meets James Ellroy in the Nevada Desert Read online

  Jim Yamaguchi was painfully aware of Charlie's feelings and he didn't do much to alleviate the situation. He smiled at Charlie and said, "I'm surprised the Los Angeles Police Department lets officers of your age still do field work in major crimes."

  "I'm young enough to get the job done! Don't you worry about dat!" Charlie snarled.

  "I'm sure you are. I was only thinking you deserved some rest in your later years."

  "My later years? Now look you..."

  Charlie lunged at Jim and I grabbed both of them. I didn't want to get in the middle of this, but I didn't want a fight in the back of a squad car either. "Knock it off!" I shouted. "Both of you shut the hell up and enjoy the ride!" They slunk back into their seats but continued muttering to themselves.

  I had no idea where China Town was but I hoped it wasn't too far away. It turned out China Town was only a few miles from police headquarters. Our designation, The Pinnacle Club, was on the north side of China Town, on a nondescript street. The club was in the middle of a block of buildings that all looked the same. The only thing that announced its presence was a sign, painted on a door in red letters. We went though the door and found the club was located on the second floor.

  After ascending the stairs, we walked into almost complete darkness. The only lights were beer signs, and we stumbled around until we found a table. A ghostly form of a waiter appeared and asked what we wanted. Charlie told him to bring us a round of beer. After the waiter left, Charlie said, "Jeeze, Jim I forgot you were with us! Maybe you'd like sake instead."

  "Actually, I prefer rye whiskey, but I know how you Micks love your beer."

  Charlie started to speak, but I cut him off. "I've had it with both of you. In case you've forgotten, we're here to talk to a suspect in a gangland murder, and that's our only concern. If you two can't get along, then get the hell out of here. I'll grab Carmine alone." Neither one said any more which was fine with me.

  Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw where we were. The only people in here were men. Which wasn't that unusual, but what they were doing was! Charlie caught on about the same time as I did.

  "Jesus Christ!" Charlie exclaimed. "Dis is a queer bar."

  Jim giggled and said, "What did you think it was?"

  "I don't know, but I didn't expect this!"

  Jim enjoyed watching Charlie and me trying to act nonchalant. "You guys want to hit a couple of other places after we leave here?" he asked. "I know one that's got a live stage show."

  "No!" we both answered in unison.

  Jim raised his eyebrows and cooed seductively, "Too bad there are some guys who would love to meet you."

  Charlie grabbed my sleeve, pointed across the room, and said, "Dat's him." Coming up the stairs was a tall, skinny man with shiny black hair. Walking beside him was a frail looking Oriental. "Let's grab him as soon as he sits down," whispered Charlie.

  I pointed out Carmine to Jim and told him what we were going to do. Jim leaned forward and said, "I'll grab the guy he's with."

  Carmine and the Oriental slid into a booth near the bar and sat next to each other. We quietly left our table and we were about ten feet from Carmine when he looked up. He made us for cops instantly, and bolted for the door. I grabbed at him but missed. Jim tackled him at the top of the stairs. Unfortunately Carmine's momentum caused them both to roll down the stairs. I ran after them but they didn't stop rolling until they hit the ground floor. As soon as they stopped, Carmine sprang to his feet and ran out the door. Jim had blood on his head and looked dazed, but he yelled for me to go after Carmine. I jumped over him and I was gaining on Carmine until he ran into an alley. I wasn't over ten feet behind him but by the time I got to the alley he'd disappeared. He couldn't have made it to the other end or I would have seen him. That meant he was still in there--but where?

  He could be anywhere. The alley was full of places to hide. There were doorways on both sides of the alley. On the left were trash cans and piled‑up boxes and on the right were fire escapes. On top of everything else the alley was dark as a tomb. I'd have given a month's pay for a flashlight. In the dark, the odds were in Carmine's favor but if I wanted him, I'd have to go in after him.

  I took a deep breath and pulled out my gun. I carefully entered the alley keeping to the darkest shadows. I moved slowly, stopping and listening every few feet. The only thing I could hear were the traffic sounds. My right hand got sweaty and I switched my gun to my left so I could wipe my hand on my pants. I heard the click of a switchblade. It sounded like it was right next to me. I spun around. No one was there. I felt something falling lightly on my head. I looked up and Carmine jumped off the fire escape.

  He hit me with his leg. I bounced off the wall. My gun flew out of my hand and skittered into the darkness. A breeze went by my face as Carmine took a vicious slash at me. He brought the knife down and lunged at me. I sidestepped and shoved him away. He tried to spin back toward me. I hit him in the right kidney. He sagged and let out a yelp. I hit him again and my hand exploded in pain when I hit his ribs. He bent over and grabbed at his side. I grabbed his hair and stood him up. I hit him with everything I had in the solar-plexus. He doubled over and I slammed my knee into his face. He fell over backward. He was tough and fought passing out. Then he went limp.

  I grabbed my handcuffs and clamped them on as tight as I could. I groped around in the darkness looking for my gun. I found it a few feet way. I was shaking like a dog passing peach pits. I sat on a box and heard footsteps coming down the alley. Looking real nervous, a couple of uniform cops, who looked too young to be cops, appeared out of the darkness. I slowly reached inside my coat and pulled out my badge. I held it up for both of them to see. One of them asked, "Are you all right?"

  "I think so," I replied. "Would one of you give me a hand with this guy?" Carmine was still out and was a load to haul off the ground. I held him against the wall and told the officer with the flashlight to look for his knife. He swept the area and a glint of chrome steel sparkled on the black pavement. He picked up Carmine's knife and held it up. It was one of those Italian stiletto jobs with a six inch blade. Carmine started coming around and he was swearing a blue streak. I slammed his head into the wall and said, "Shut up, maggot! Say one more word and we'll find out if you can talk with all your teeth knocked out!" He shut up, and walked quietly to the patrol car.

  The patrolman shoved him into the back of their patrol car and another patrol car pulled up. In the back were Charlie and the Oriental. Charlie leaned out the window and said, "Hey! You got him! Good work!"

  "How's Jim?"

  "They had to haul him off in the meat wagon. He's got a knot on his head but he'll be okay." Charlie tapped the driver on the shoulder and the patrol car started to pull away. "See you downtown," he yelled, "too bad about your jacket."

  I couldn't figure out what he was talking about until I looked down. My jacket had been cut from the waist to the shoulder. Carmine barely missed gutting me.

  The patrolmen talked about my jacket and what happened in the alley all the way downtown. To hear them tell it I was Charles Atlas and Superman all rolled into one. "You're a hero," one said.

  "Yeah," the other one agreed.

  I was tempted to tell them what a drill sergeant in the Marines once told me: "Kid, always remember a hero is also a sandwich." At the time it didn't make a lot of sense to me, but now I understood. Since, I felt more like I was swimming in mustard than glory at the moment.

  By the time we got to the Police station the patrolmen had exaggerated Carmine into being as deadly as anyone who ever graced the ten‑most‑wanted list. If you listened to them, I took him on with nothing more than a smile and a prayer. It was useless to try and correct them. They had my encounter with Carmine the way they wanted to tell it, and the truth would only gum-up the works.

  In the file Hoyt Turner gave me the one thing missing was an up-to-date picture of Carmine. In my encounter with Carmine in the alley I hadn't gotten a good look at him. When they pulle
d him inside the station, I finally got a good look at him. Carmine was one evil looking guy--long greasy black hair, oily skin, yellow teeth and black cold reptilian eyes darting out of a narrow pinched face. The patrolmen asked me what to do with him. Shooting wasn't a bad idea but I told them to book him on attempted murder.

  I looked around for Charlie but I couldn't find him. I asked the desk sergeant where Carmine was. He had an officer show me to an interrogation room. I knocked on the door and a uniformed officer opened it. Sitting on a chair was Carmine and sitting across from him was Charlie.

  "We've been waiting for you," said Charlie, shoving a chair in my direction. He gestured in Carmine's direction and said, "He's been chomping at the bit to tell me everything, but I said we had to wait for you. Ain't that right?" Carmine didn't say anything, and Charlie got off his chair. "He's a bit shy, but once he gets talking I'll bet we can't shut him up." Carmine didn't say anything and Charlie gently patted Carmine on the shoulder. Then he grabbed Carmine's other shoulder, and tilted him and the chair backward. "You're making me look bad here, Carmine. It looks like you don't want to be helpful and we both know you do. So let's stop screwing around and when I ask a question you answer it--okay?" Charlie tipped him further back and Carmine started beating his legs up and down to keep his balance. Charlie let go of the chair and Carmine fell over backward. Charlie pulled him to his feet picked up the chair and slammed Carmine into it. "It looks like you got a problem sitting in dat chair."

  "The chair ain't my problem!" snarled Carmine. "My problem is a fat old cop who thinks he's tough. Take these cuffs off and we'll see who's tough."

  Charlie looked at me and said, "You see what I get for being nice? I try and treat him with some respect and he calls me fat. I know he doesn't mean it because calling me names would make me mad and you don't want to make me mad do you--Carmine?"

  "Screw you! Go ahead and get mad! Beat me up! I don't care! I've been beaten‑up by guys a lot better at it than you! I ain't no cherry!"

  Charlie shook his head. "You know how many times I've heard the same old lame crap?" Charlie pulled his chair over in front of Carmine and sat so his face was inches away from Carmine's. "Maybe you're tough enough to get the crap knocked out of you and not say anything, but I got one advantage over the other guys who beat on your useless carcass. I can bring you back day after day after day and do the same thing. Believe me, if you get hit enough, you'll be happy tell me everything I want to know." Charlie made a quick motion like he was going to hit Carmine. Carmine flinched and Charlie laughed. He slapped Carmine lightly across the face and said, "But you know what, wise guy? I'm not going to waste my energy beating on you, because I don't need to. You're going to tell me everything I want to know, without me laying a glove on you."

  Carmine looked confused, "How do you figure that?"

  "You'll do it because I know your dirty little secret, and you'll do anything to keep me from telling dat."

  Carmine started to sweat, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. "I ain't got no secrets--man."

  Charlie stood up and walked around behind Carmine. He leaned over and whispered, "Sure you do! For instance, I'll bet you'll do just about anything to keep me from telling your buddies back in LA what you've been up to here in San Francisco."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Carmine's denial was starting to lose a lot of its conviction, but he was still trying to bluff his way through.

  Charlie got a big grin on his face and said, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You'll do anything to keep Mickey and his boys from knowing you're a weenie-sucking fag. Because if they found out you liked getting it from guys, they'd line up around the block to give it to you. Then they'd kick you out of the organization, because they don't allow queers in their club. After that, the only time you'd hear from them is when they want a little kinky sex. So unless you want to become a boy-whore for the mob, you're going to tell me everything I want to know.”

  "I ain't no queer and Mickey ain't going to take your word over it!"

  "Sure he will, because I'll show him that little‑chink you've been playing slap and tickle with for the last month. If that doesn't do it, the pictures you took of the two of you will."

  Carmine hands started to shake and he said, "What pictures. I don't know anything about any stinking pictures."

  "Come on Carmine! It's over. The chink gave you up. He's scared to death we're going to send him back to China. Apparently his type isn't looked upon with great favor by the commies either. So he's more than willing to sell you out to stay on this side of the ocean. He gave us the pictures of de two of you being really naughty."

  Carmine's voice took on a hysterical tone. "I can explain about those pictures. You see..."

  Charlie cut him off, "Settle, down Carmine. Don't blow a gasket. We can work dis out."

  Carmine dropped his head in resignation. He had no choice, but to cooperate, because if he refused, he'd be in more trouble from his own kind, than he would be from the law. "What do you want to know?" He asked.

  Charlie winked at me and said, "This officer has some questions to ask you."

  I got right to the point and asked him why he was in Las Vegas the night Johnny Del Rio was murdered. He said he was shacked-up with some guy he met in a bar. I didn't believe him but he said he could prove it and he gave me the guy's name and where I could find him. I asked about Mickey Cohen wanting to muscle in on Las Vegas but Carmine claimed he didn't know anything about that.

  After talking to him for half an hour, it was obvious he let other people do the thinking for him. It was possible his alibi wouldn't check out, but if it did, then he didn't kill Johnny Del Rio.

  Until I checked out Carmine's alibi it was futile to ask any more questions. I told Charlie I was finished. He smiled and said, "Don't worry if you want to ask more, he'll be here to answer your questions any time you want--because Carmine is going to be hanging out with me a whole lot from now on. Ain't you, Carmine?"

  Wally Parks, the Sherriff’s Deputy who handled vice back in Las Vegas, I told about James Caldfield, was over-joyed to hear from me. Before I could say anything, he launched into a dissertation about how much dope they found when they busted Caldfield. “It was almost two ounces and the Sherriff says it’s the most ever found in Clark County.” That solved one problem--at least Suzy Kurts wouldn’t be getting anymore dope from him. Wally wasn’t quite as thrilled when I asked him to grab the man Carmine said he was screwing when Johnny was killed. Wally called back in about an hour and told me the man at first he denied he knew Carmine. I couldn't blame him. I wouldn't want to admit I had sex with someone who looked like him either. He kept on denying knowing him until Wally informed him they'd make sure his arrest record would find its way to the guy's boss. Whatever was in his record was enough to make him remember that he indeed did spend some time with Carmine. He gladly supplied the hotel and room number and he was emphatic that Carmine was never out of his sight for the entire time they were together. As he put it, "We didn't sleep."

  If Carmine was playing hide the salami with this guy, then he didn't kill Johnny Del Rio, which meant there was no linkage between Johnny's death and Mickey Cohen. The investigation was right back where we started--with no suspects and no motive. Maybe Dick was right. Maybe Vinnie Costello helped Johnny shuffle his mortal coil, and was a better lair than I gave him credit for.

  I told Charlie what Wally said and Charlie asked, "Will you do me a favor?"

  "Sure, what do you want?"

  "Drop the attempted murder charges against Carmine."

  "Are you nuts? That bastard tried to kill me!"

  "Yeah, I know, but if Mickey finds out Carmine's been arrested, he'll shut him out until he's sure he can trust him and dat could take months. What’d ya say?"

  I didn't want to drop the charges but I owed Charlie. "Okay, but you keep him on a short leash. If he hurts or kills somebody, it'll be on your head."

  "Thanks. You want to ask Carmine anymore q
uestions."

  "As a matter of fact I have a little business to conduct with Mister Tonelli.”

  Carmine didn't like being woken-up and dragged back to the interrogation room. He glared at Charlie and said, "Can't this wait until morning?"

  Charlie shoved him into a chair and said, "It is morning. Now shut up!"

  I laid Carmine's personal property envelope on the table. I reached inside and took out his wallet.

  "What's this?" he protested, "Some kind of shake down?"

  "You're buying me a new jacket." I took out a twenty and started to put the wallet back in the envelope.

  "Why don't you get a change of underwear too?" Carmine said. "It smells like you messed yours in that alley!"

  I opened his wallet and took out two twenties and said, "Thanks, I think I will." I slapped him with his wallet softly across the face and said, "If you keep running your mouth, you're going to end up buying me a new wardrobe. What do you have to say about that--wise ass?" Carmine shut up and I slid his wallet back into the envelope.

  Charlie laughed and said, "You’re a real stand up guy Carmine." He pulled Carmine off the chair and motioned for a uniformed officer to take him. "Go back to sleep. You need all the beauty rest you can get."

  It was possible that Carmine still could have had something to do with "Two Ton Tony's" death. I told the officer to hold on a minute and I asked Carmine, "Where were you a week ago Saturday and Sunday?"

  "I was in Lake Tahoe with Chin Ho. We were playing Chinese Checkers all weekend long."

  "You know were going to ask him too. Is he going to say the same thing?"

  "Sure he will. It's the truth." Carmine smiled a leering smile and said, "When you ask him--tell him Long Dong Wong says hello."

  It was after three and I was too tired to go back to my hotel. Charlie told me I could use a cot in the back of the squad room. I went out like a light. The next thing I knew an old sergeant was shaking me awake. "Sorry kid," he said, "But you got a phone call. They said it was urgent." He showed me to a phone. The call was from Dick Pearson. "I was going to call you in about an hour," I said. "We grabbed Carmine Tonelli. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like he had anything to do with either Johnny's or Tony's murder."