Read Online Suicide Hill by James Ellroy - Free Book Online Page B

overnighters for a while.”
    â€œMatinees? You know, like the song—‘Afternoon Delight’?”
    The man laughed. “We can hit Hot Tub Fever during your lunch hour.”
    â€œSounds good, but I read in Cosmo that those hot tub places all have herpes germs in the water.”
    â€œDon’t believe everything you read. Call me at the bank?”
    â€œYeah.”
    Rice heard sounds of kissing, followed by a door slamming. He counted to ten, then stood up and peered around the hedge. The Cadillac was just taking off. He ran for his car and pursued it.
    It led him to a Bank of America branch on Woodman and Ventura. Rice sized up the man who got out. Tall, broad-hipped, sunken-chested. A wimp whose sex appeal was his money.
    The man walked up to the front doors. Rice followed from a safe distance, passing him as he stepped inside. When the manager locked the doors behind him, Rice counted to ten, then peered through the plate-glass window and smiled.
    The manager was alone inside the bank, and the surveillance cameras were fixed-focused at the floor. The tellers stations were visible from the street only if a passerby was willing to stand on his tiptoes and crane his neck.
    Rice watched the manager walk directly to the teller area and take a key from his pocket, then open drawers and transfer cash to his briefcase, leaving pieces of paper in the money’s place—probably doctored tally slips. The odds zoomed to perfection. Rice ran to his car, then drove to a pay phone and called Louie Calderon at his message drop number.
    â€œSpeak.”
    â€œLouie, it’s Duane.”
    â€œAlready? Don’t tell me, the car broke down and you’re pissed.”
    â€œNothing like that.”
    â€œAnother favor?”
    â€œYeah. I want three .45s and one of those dart guns. You’ve got darts, too?”
    â€œYeah. Before we go any further, I don’t wanna know what you got in mind. You got that?”
    â€œRight. Silencers?”
    â€œI can get them, but they cut down the range to practically zilch.”
    â€œThey’ll never be fired; it’s just an extra precaution.”
    â€œMr. Smooth. Seven bills for the whole shot. Deal?”
    â€œDeal. One more thing. I need two men, smart, with balls, who want to make money. No niggers, no dopers, no trashy gangster types, nobody with robbery convictions.”
    Louie whistled, then laughed. “You want a lot, you know that? Well, today’s your lucky day. I know two Chicano dudes, brothers, who’re looking for work. Smart—one righteous vato, one tagalong. Pulled hundreds of burglaries, only got popped once. Righteous burglars, righteous con men. They just hung up this phone rip-off gig and they’re hurtin’ for cash.”
    â€œYou vouch for them?”
    â€œI fenced their stuff for seven or eight years. When they got busted, they didn’t snitch me off. What more you want?”
    â€œAny strong-arm experience?”
    â€œNo, but one of them is downright mean, and I’ll bet he’d dig it. Used to fight welterweight, ten, twelve years ago. All the top locals stomped on him.”
    â€œCan you set up a meet?”
    â€œSure. But I’m tellin’ them and I’m tellin’ you: I don’t want to know nothin’ about your plans. Comprende? ”
    â€œ Comprende .”
    â€œGood. I’ll call Bobby and set it up. When you meet him, tell him how you saw him knock Little Red Lopez through the ropes with a right cross. He’ll eat it up.”
    The phone went dead. Rice walked back to his car. When he stuck the key in the ignition, he was trembling. It felt good.

5
    E ven as the dream unfolded, he knew that it was just a dream, one of the stock nightmares that owned him, and if he didn’t panic, it would run its course and he would wake up safe.
    Sometime back in ’67 or ’68, when he was working Hollywood Patrol, he and his partner Flanders got