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

  "That's too bad but it shouldn’t surprise you. Should it?"

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "You know damn well what I mean."

  "No, I don't. Why don't you explain it to me."

  "I'll explain it to you when you get back."

  "Okay, I'll see you in a day or so.

  "No! I want you back here tomorrow."

  "Look Dick, I don't know what's going on but I think you at least owe me some kind of explanation."

  There was a long pause then Dick said, "All I'm going to say is Ted Kemper has made some serious allegations about you. It would be in your best interest to return as soon as possible to answer them."

  "What allegations?"

  "That's all I’m going to say." To punctuate his point Dick hung up the phone.

  It was obvious I had been wrong in thinking Dick was my friend. It made me both sad and mad. I’d like to kick the crap out of him, but right now, all I could do was to shout, “Screw you,” at the dial tone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Not So Welcome Home

  I was too wound up to sleep so I waited for Charlie to come in and told him I had to return to Las Vegas. He smiled and held out a meaty hand. "It's been fun working with you. If you ever get tired of all that sand and want to work in a real city, give me a call."

  Before I left the City of Angles, I called Hoyt Turner f the F.B.I. It was too bad not all the agents were like him. He listened to my report and said, "Are you sure that Tonelli doesn't have anything to do with Del Rio's murder?"

  "His alibi checks out and he'd be stupid to come up with an alibi like that if it wasn't true."

  "I have to agree. While it would have made things easier, in a way I'm glad he wasn't responsible. Hopefully, a mob war can be averted. Thanks for your trouble and please submit a written report. I need something to show the Attorney General."

  I hoped I might pick up a lead about what was going on back in Las Vegas. Either Turner didn't know or he was one cool customer. The only way I was going to find out was to return to Las Vegas.

  I returned to my hotel and checked the train schedules. I found a train leaving at 2:15 p.m. that stopped in Las Vegas. I had to hurry but I made it to Union Station with a few minutes to spare. This train was a local that ran from Los Angeles to Salt Lake City. It didn't have sleepers, observation cars, or a dining car. Most of the luxuries I didn't care about but I wished it had a dining car. I missed lunch and it would be over six hours before I arrived in Las Vegas.

  I held off hunger pangs by thinking about what Ted Kemper thought he had on me. The damnable part was, I couldn't think of a single thing that would merit the treatment I was getting. I'd stepped slightly over the line here and there, but it was all little stuff, like rousting Bottles the other night. I suppose in the strictest sense, I should have arrested him or at least confiscated the drugs. But every cop gives his snitches some latitude. If he didn't, no one would talk to him. Even the glorious FBI was known to cut a deal with a snitch when it suited their purpose.

  As soon as I arrived in Las Vegas, I called the Sheriff's Office and asked for Dick. They said he was gone for the day. I could go out looking for him but he'd be tanked up and he might say something and I might do something we'd both regret tomorrow. After a sleepless night, I got up at five-thirty. It was pointless to try and force myself to sleep. I threw back the covers and jumped out of bed.

  I'd have to wait until at least seven before I could ask Dick what was going on. My patience ran out at six-thirty and I drove to the station and waited for him to arrive. He was a few minutes late and looked surprised to see me. He said sharply, "I didn't expect you here so soon but since you're here, wait for me in the Sheriff's office."

  I tried to make a little joke by clicking my heels together and saluting like a British soldier. I said, "Yes sir, is there anything else you'd like--sir?"

  Dick didn't appreciate my humor and said, "Cut out the sir shit, O'Brien--just get in the office!"

  I'd had enough of Dick's brand of nonsense and said, "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

  "You'll know soon enough. Now, do as you're told. Or do you want to add insubordination to the charges?"

  I reluctantly went into the Sheriff's office and waited for Dick. He returned with a folder in his hand and he opened it and asked, "What's your connection to Vincent Costello?"

  "The same as yours--he's a suspect in a murder investigation."

  "No, I want to know about your personal relationship. When did that start?"

  "What personal relationship? I've only time I’ve seen him, and you were with me."

  Dick looked disgusted and picked up the phone. "I want you to remember I gave you a chance to straighten this out, but you didn't take it!"

  Suddenly Ted Kemper and two huge deputy sheriffs' burst through the door, Kemper asked, "Are you Kelly James O'Brien?"

  "Hell no, I'm the Easter Bunny! Who in the hell do you think I am?"

  Kemper took a piece of paper out of his pocket. He got a smug look on his face and handed it to me. "This is for you," he said. "It's a subpoena to appear in Federal court next Thursday to answer questions about your involvement with Vincent Costello. Be informed this is a Grand Jury hearing and you will not be permitted to use legal consul during your appearance. You do have the right to consult with one prior to your appearance." He smiled and said, "I'd advise you to hire a good lawyer because you're going to need all the help you can get. See you in court, tough-guy." He turned on his heels and stomped out of the room. The two deputies and Dick stayed behind.

  I held up the subpoena and asked Dick, "What's this all about?"

  "Don't play innocent with me O'Brien! You know what's going on. You just didn't figure you'd get caught!"

  "I haven't a clue what you're talking about, and I demand to know what you think you've got on me!"

  "I don't give a damn what you demand to know. I don't have to tell you squat. So get the hell out of here!"

  "Hey, it'll be my pleasure! I'm not particularly fond of being in the company of a back stabbing, drunk traitor. Tell me, how many pieces of silver did the Feds wave in front of you to sell me out or was it a bottle of booze?"

  "I'm no traitor! You are!"

  "Bullshit! You haven't got anything which ties me in with Vinnie Costello, and you know it!"

  "We've got more than enough to nail your butt."

  "Come on, Pearson if you had something--you'd show it."

  "Okay, smart ass if you want to see proof, come with me." We took me to the store room. Sitting on a table was a sixteen‑millimeter film projector. A sheet hung on the wall. Dick slid a metal chair across the floor and said, "Make you self comfortable. This won't take long." He turned on the projector and the image of the delicatessen by the Flamingo Hotel appeared on the sheet. Parked in front were two cars. One was a new Lincoln and the other looked like my beat up old Ford. Two men inside the Lincoln got out and walked into the Delicatessen. One of the men sat at a table with another man. The quality wasn't very good but it was good enough to identify one as Vincent Costello and the other person as me. The film showed was us eating and then Vinnie stood up and walked out the door.

  "Is that it?" I asked. "This whole thing is about Vinnie eating a sandwich with me? What are you going to charge me with--felony heartburn?"

  Dick switched off the projector and said, "It's more than that and you know it. If the meeting was so innocent, why didn't you mention it to me?"

  "Because I knew you'd get pissed-off and act like a jerk--just like you're doing now."

  "Let's say I believe you. How do you explain the envelope Vinnie gave you? Or was that part of the blue plate special?"

  "What envelope?"

  "The one with the fifty twenty‑hundred dollar chips in it. You didn't mention that either, or were you afraid that might piss me off too?"

  "There was no envelope," I lied. "Who says I got an envelope?"

  "An FBI snitch says
he saw you take an envelope from Vinnie. In return for the money he said you agreed to pass on information from the Del Rio investigation."

  "Like hell I did! I never took any money from Vinnie Costello. The only thing I got from him was a pickle. Drag that snitch's butt in here. Ask him some questions without Ted Kemper telling him how to answer them, and I'll bet you'll get to the bottom of this!"

  Dick switched off the projector and said, "You'll get your chance in court to ask questions." He walked in front of me and held out his hand. "Give me your gun, handcuffs, and badge." All civility was gone from his voice. He was treating me like I was someone he'd pulled off the street.

  I wanted to kick him in the balls but I handed him my gun, handcuffs, and badge. "Is there anything else you want?" I asked.

  Dick ignored my question and said, "You're officially on paid suspension until this matter is resolved. Which means you'll keep getting your paycheck but all your rights as a law enforcement officer are rescinded."

  Dick stomped out of the room, and one of the deputies said to the other one. "Let's go. He's not going to be a problem any more."

  The other one nodded in agreement. "Yeah, let's go. He's not so tough after all."

  I could hear them chuckling as they walked down the hall. They were right. At the moment I didn't feel very tough.

  It was going to be tough to get out from under this. I was being expertly railroaded by Ted Kemper. He'd done a clever job of framing me. He'd blended just enough truth with lies to make it all seem believable. The most damnable part was he had Dick believing that I'd taken money from Vinnie Costello. Without Dick's help--proving my innocence would be damn hard. On top of everything else, I'd lost the resources normally available to a law enforcement officer when they suspended me. I could ask for help from my fellow officers but no one would want to help me. The chance of getting painted by the same dirty brush was too great.

  Even with their help, it was going to be hard to prove I hadn't taken the money. Ultimately, it would come down to my word against Kemper's snitch. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem. A cop's word would always be taken over a snitch's. But that luxury was reserved for clean cops, and dirty cops are automatically assumed to be lying whether they are or not.

  With all this against me, my first reaction was to tell Dick to take the job and put it where the sun doesn't shine. But if I quit, I'd never get another job in law enforcement--I'd always be a dirty cop. Part of me didn't care, but I'd be damned if I was going to be convicted by a frame job. The only way to prove my innocence was to stay and fight the charges.

  I had to find Kemper's snitch and find out why he lied. But finding Kemper's snitch wouldn't be easy and if I did any overt investigating to find him, I'd look even guiltier. Maybe there was another way to find him.

  Whoever the snitch was, knew Vinnie offered me fifty--twenty dollar chips. Vinnie probably didn't tell too many people he was going to attempt to bride a cop, and probably fewer knew how much he was going to offer. Depending upon how many people Vinnie told, it should drastically reduce the number of people who could be the snitch. Unfortunately, I'd have to ask Vinnie those questions but how could I contact him? I couldn't march into the Flamingo and ask to see to him. If I did, Ted Kemper would know I was there before Vinnie did. I couldn't call Vinnie either, it was a sure bet the FBI had his phone tapped, and Kemper would love to play our conversation for the grand jury. I had to come up with another way--a way immune to Ted Kemper's scrutiny. I decided to sleep on it.

  The sun was just starting to probe the darkness when I woke up. I'd been asleep for less than three hours, but I was wide awake. I'd figured out a way to contact Vinnie without anyone knowing.

  The tricky part would be getting the right people to help me. The first person I had to see was Billie. In the old days she never went to bed until after seven. If I hurried, I might be able to catch her before she went to sleep.

  As I drove out into the desert, I checked my rear-view mirror to see if I was being followed. It took a few miles to convince myself there was nothing behind me. It was nudging seven when I parked in front of Billie's.

  The place was deserted at this hour except for a few drunks who were holding up the bar and a few girls who were hustling them for a few more bucks before going to bed. Even Rudy was missing from his perch by the door. I asked the bartender if Billie was around. He got my name and said he'd check if Billie was taking "visitors at this hour". In about fifteen minutes, I heard a familiar voice behind me. "Kelly, what in the hell are you doing here?"

  I turned around and standing with her hands on her hips was Billie. She looked like she'd just woke‑up. I felt guilty. I'd hoped to make it out here before she went to sleep. "Jeeze Billy," I said. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be asleep."

  Billie gave me a hard look and said, "Why would I be asleep? It's only seven in the morning. Hey, I got an idea. Let's wake everybody up and we can have a party!"

  "Ah--maybe I'd better go and come back later."

  "No stay. You've already woke me up, but you’d better have a real good reason why you're here."

  "I need your help--it's important."

  Billie got a concerned look on her face and said, "Come on Sugar, let's go to my room and you can tell Billie what the problem is." She listened quietly, interrupting only occasionally to clarify a point. After I finished, she shook her head and said, "Damn, Kelly, you really stepped in it this time didn't you?" She was right. I'd stepped in a real stinking mess and I needed her help to get out of it.

  "I need your help Billie. I need you to contact Vinnie Costello for me."

  "Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked. "Guys like Vinnie usually want a lot for helping out."

  "Yeah, I know that, but, unfortunately, he's the only person who can help."

  Billie took out a little notebook from her night stand. She thumbed through several pages and wrote something down on a pad. She said to herself, "They might be able to help, but it's too early to call."

  The lack of sleep was creeping back into my legs and arms. I tried to stifle a yawn but was unsuccessful. "Excuse me," I apologized. "I think I'd better catch a couple hours sleep before I do anything else."

  I got up and Billie said, "Where are you going?"

  "I'm going to lie down in my car."

  She shook her head and said, "You'll do nothing of the sort! It's far too hot to sleep in your car!" She gave me a well practiced smile and said, "Take the right side of the bed."

  As soon as I fell into Billie's bed, it felt like a balloon deflated inside me. I closed my eyes and welcomed the darkness. Unfortunately, in that same darkness were also dreams.

  Ever since I was a kid I hated to wake up, but this time I wanted to because I was having a bad dream. Something was chasing me and it was closing in fast! I heard my name and something grabbed me. I started to fight and I heard my name again. I forced my eyes open and Billie had me by the shoulders. "It's okay," she reassured me. "You're all right." She let go of me and picked up the telephone. She told me to, "Stay there while I finish my call." I didn't have a choice. I didn't have any clothes except for my socks.

  Billie conversation was limited to her saying a name and then following it with an "Oh really" or an "I didn't know that". An entire roster of names was being read off, and I quickly lost interest in her conversation. My appetite, which deserted me yesterday, was back with a vengeance. I was hungry and I wanted to get something to eat. But without clothes I had to stay where I was. Even in a cat-house there were limits to acceptable behavior, and showing up to breakfast buck-naked was over the line. I looked at the clock next to the bed. It was nine-thirty. Which meant I'd slept for only a couple of hours, but that was okay. Considering my dream, I was happy to be awake.

  Billie finished her phone call and said, "I was wondering if you'd ever get up."

  "I've only been asleep a couple of hours."

  "A couple of hours? Sugar you've been asleep for over twelve hours. It's almo
st ten at night."

  I hadn't intended to sleep that long. I jumped out of bed. I remembered didn't have any clothes on and I tried to cover myself up much to Billie's amusement.

  She laughed and said, "That's the first time I've ever had a guy jump out of my bed after spending twelve hours there. Of course, it's the first time anyone could." Billie pointed at my arm and asked, "Where did you get that cute little tattoo of a skunk holding a flower?"

  "It appeared after a drunken night in San Diego."

  Billie winked at me and said, "It's so cute, maybe I'll get one too." She giggled and my ears burned with embarrassment.

  She was enjoying this but I wasn't. "Just tell me where my clothes are.--So I can go home."

  "I'm glad you mentioned that, Sugar. When did you buy that suit you're wearing?"

  Carmine slashed my best suit and I didn't want to tell her this was a suit my father bought before the war but never worn. Admittedly, it wasn't fancy but it wore well. "I've had it a few years." I replied.

  "Quite a few," Billie observed. "I think you need some new additions to your wardrobe."

  "I know but can I have my old suit back?" Billie made a call and an old negro woman walked in carrying my old suit. To my amazement it had been cleaned and a couple of torn spots were mended. I asked Billie, "How did you get this cleaned way out here?"

  "I have my own cleaning plant, and seamstresses. Sometimes things get messy or something gets ripped in the heat of battle. It's a service my customers are on an occasion quite grateful for."

  I slipped on my suit and told Billie I was so hungry I could eat a horse and its saddle blanket. She took me to the kitchen and a skinny Mexican guy cooked a steak the size of a Buick's hubcap for me. I dug in and enjoyed every bite.

  After I finished, Billie said, "I called around and found Vinnie's got a girl friend. One of my girls knows her." Billie motioned to a girl standing by the door to come over.

  The girl's name was Star, and she got right to the point. "You should know," she said. "My friend won't do anything unless she gets something in return. So don't expect her to go out of her way to help you."