Gilstrap said, "Shit."

Holly laughed. "Big words and colored bullshit. Give them a dictionary and they think they run the world."

Littell tapped the paper. "I don't see your name, Dwight. Is that a blessing or a curse?"

Holly stood up. "I see where this is going, and if it does go there, I'll go to the U.S. Attorney. Civil-rights abridgement and obstruction of justice. I'll look bad, you'll look worse, the kid will do time."

A vent thumped. The heat kicked off. Holly walked out.

Gilstrap said, "The cocksucker means it."

"I don't think so. He goes back too far with Wayne Senior."

"Dwight don't go back, Dwight goes forward. Wayne Senior could squawk and go to Mr. Hoover, who'd most likely pooh-pooh it because, according to my sources, he's got a real soft spot for Dwight."

Littell flipped the paper over. Littell squared the fold. There's the hard news and AP pix: Police dogs/angry Negroes/tear gas.

Gilstrap sighed. "Okay, I'll play."

"Does the DA want to file?"

"Nobody wants that. We're just afraid that we're too far exposed already."

"And?"

"And there's two schools of thought. Bury it and ride out all the Commie bullshit, or file and take our lumps."

Littell drummed the table. "Your department could get hurt very badly."

Gilstrap blew smoke rings. "Mr. Littell, you're leading me. You're playing me and holding back your face cards."

Littell tapped the paper. "Tell me Dallas doesn't scare you. Tell me Junior didn't fuck up there and give Durfee a motive to kill him. Tell me this won't come out in court. Tell me you're convinced that Junior didn't kill Maynard Moore. Tell me you didn't put a bounty on Durfee and pay Junior six thousand dollars to kill him. Tell me you want all this exposed and tell me Junior won't expose it just to flush his life down the toilet."

Gilstrap squeezed his ashtray. "Tell me Dallas PD will just go away."

"Tell me Junior wasn't smart enough to hide the body. Tell me the first cop who spots Durfee won't kill him and eliminate DPD's one potential witness."

Gilstrap sbapped the table. "Tell me how we do this."

Littell tapped the paper. "I've read the accounts. There's no specified sequence of events. All you have is four killings in one evening."

"That's right."

"The evidence can be reworked to support self-defense. There may be a chance to divert demonstrations."

Gilstrap sighed. "I don't want to owe Wayne Senior."

Littell said, "You won't."

Gilstrap stuck his hand out.

He brewed a plan. He called Pete and told him. Pete said okay. Pete asked one favor.

I want to see Lynette. It's my fault. I fucked up in Dallas.

Buddy Fritsch had morgue shots. Littell looked at them. Durfee raped her. Durfee gutted her. Durfee shaved her.

He saw the pix. He studied them. He scared himself. He put Jane's face on Lynette's body.

He sent Pete a morgue pass. Pete said he'd talked to Wayne Junior. Wayne Junior pledged him his files.

Littell called east. Littell pulled strings. Littell buzzed Lyle Holly. He said the snuffs might hurt Dwight--so hear my plan now.

Call Bayard Rustin. Offer this advice: Do not protest the killings--call Ward Littell instead.

Rustin called him. Littell lied. Littell offered a rationale. A Negro man killed a white woman. Three more killings derived. The cop killed in selfdefense. It's all certified.

Rustin got it--don't build hate--don't martyr an angry white cop. Vegas wasn't Birmingham. Negro junkies weren't four girls in church.

Rustin was savvy. Rustin was gracious. Littell pledged more money. Littell praised Dr. King.

He met Rustin once. He charmed and entrapped him. He used him forthwith.

I believe. I have horrible debts. I'll try to help more than I hurt.

34.

(Las Vegas, 1/19/64)

He saw Lynette.

He saw the flaps. He saw the sheared ribs. He saw where the knife snapped bone. Wayne Junior didn't blame him. Wayne Junior blamed himself.

Pete stood by the freeway. Pete ate gas fumes. Pete had a replacement sled--a boss new Lincoon.

A prowl car pulled up. A cop got out. He fed Pete three guns. Three calibers: .38/.45/.357 mag.

Throwdown guns. Taped and initialed: L.W/O.S./C.S.

The cop knew the plan. They had two crime scenes. They had viable blood--good Red Cross stock.

The cop split. Pete drove to Henderson. Pete hit a gun shop. Pete bought ammo.

He loaded the guns. He rigged silencers. He drove back to Vegas.

Wayne Junior was out. He saw him yesterday. The DA dumped his case. They met. They talked. They hit Wayne's bank vault. Wayne dumped his board files and briefed him.

Spurgeon dug jailbait. Peavy was larcenous. Hinton whacked a nigger whore. Three board members--swing votes plus--good news for Count Drac.

Spurgeon vibed easy. Hinton vibed tough sell. Peavy vibed grief. Monarch Cab as Tiger Kab--hold that good thought.

Wayne looked frazzled. His eyes roamed. He strafed jigaboos. They ate lunch and talked.

Neutral shit--Clay versus Liston. Pete liked Liston in two. Wayne said three tops. A shine cleared their table. Wayne fucking seized up.

Pete drove to the car dump. The cop met him there. The dump was closed. The sun was up. A breeze wafted through.

They schmoozed. They jumped the crime-scene rope. Wayne's car was gone. The Buick was cut into scrap.

The cop taped a body--white tape on cement. Pete aimed the .45.

He popped six shots. He nailed a tree. He grabbed the slugs. He gauged trajectories. He dropped the slugs. He chalked them. The cop took pix.

Pete spritzed the body tape. Pete watched the blood dry. The cop took pix.

They drove to the shack. They jumped the crime-scene rope. The cop taped two bodies. The cop spritzed the tape.

Pete shot the .38. Pete popped four rounds. Pete hit the walls and dug the slugs out. The cop bagged them. The cop lab-logged them. The cop took pix.

They drove to the County Morgue. The cop greased the attendant geek. Said geek had three fish. Said fish reposed on three trays.

Leroy had no head. Leroy wore a dashiki. The cop pulled a sap. The cop broke Leroy's right hand. The cop flexed the fingers free.

Pete rolled the fingertips. Pete smudged the magnum. Pete laid two butt spreads.

Curtis was stiff. Otis was stiff. They wore Dodger T-shirts and morgue sheets.

Pete squeezed their hands. Pete broke their fingers. Pete flexed the tips. The cop rolled prints--barrel spreads--the cop rolled the .45 and .38.

The stiffs stunk of morgue rouge and sawdust. Pete coughed and sneezed.

Ward set it up. We'll meet at Wilt's Diner--it's out near Davis Dam.

They showed early. They grabbed a booth. They cleared table space and sipped coffee. Ward propped the bag up. Tabletop center--tres hard to miss.

Dwight Holly showed. Punctual--2:OO p.m. straight.

He parked his car. He looked through the window glass. He saw them and walked straight in.

Pete made room. Holly sat beside him. Holly eyeballed the bag.

"What's that?"

Pete said, "Christmas."

Holly made the jack-off sign. Holly spread out.

He stretched. He made elbow room. He hard-nudged Pete.

He coughed. "I caught the fucking Tedrow kid's bug."

Ward smiled. "Thanks for coming out."

Holly tugged his cuff links. "Who's the big guy? The Wild Man of Borneo?"

Pete laughed. Pete slapped his knees.

Ward sipped coffee. "Have you spoken to the U.S. Attor--"

"He called me. He said Mr. Hoover told him not to file on the kid. I think Wayne Senior interceded, and I hope you didn't run me out here to gloat."

Ward tapped the bag. "Congratulations."

"For what? The investigation your client fucked up?"

"You must have talked to the U.S. Attorney yesterday."

Holly tugged his law-school ring. "You're stringing me, Ward. You're reminding me why I never liked you."

Ward stirred his coffee. "You're the new Chief Investigator for the Southern Nevada Office. Mr. Hoover told me this morning."

Holly tugged his ring. It fell off. It hit the floor. It traveled.

Ward smiled. "We want to make friends in Nevada."

Pete smiled. "You took down Leroy Williams and the Swasey brothers. They were out on bail when Wayne killed them."

Ward tapped the bag. "The reports have been predated. You'll be reading about it."

Pete tapped the bag. "It's a white Christmas."

Holly grabbed the bag. Holly grabbed a steak knife. Holly stabbed one brick. Holly dipped one finger.

He licked it. He tasted it. He got the Big "H" bite.

"You convinced me. But I'm not done with the kid, and I don't care who he's got on his side."