My Dark Places Read Online Free PDF Page B

in to the Ellroy case on Monday afternoon. Bill Vickers was set to start soon.
    Godfrey canvassed with a photo of the victim. He queried waitresses, carhops, bartenders, restaurant and cocktail lounge managers. He stressed the redhead, the blonde and a dark man who might be named Tommy. He said the redhead ordered Mexican food or a chili size with cheese.
    He hit Staat’s Cafe at Meeker and Valley. A waitress said the redhead looked familiar. She said a party of four came in Saturday night and ordered chili sizes. Pearl Pendleton waited on them.
    Pearl was off today. Godfrey got her number from the manager and called her. Pearl listened to his questions and said that none of her Saturday-night customers resembled the people he described.
    Godfrey hit Dick’s Drive-in at Rosemead and Las Tunas. Nobody there was working Saturday night into Sunday morning. The manager was not on the premises.
    A carhop gave him some names: Marlene, Kathy, Kitty Johnson, Sue the counter girl. They were all working Saturday-Sunday graveyard and would be rotating back on duty Wednesday.
    Godfrey walked across the street and checked out the Clock Drive-in. The manager said none of his on-duty crew was working late Saturday night or early Sunday. He checked his 6/21 roster and kicked loose some names and numbers: two dining-room girls, one hostess, one counter girl and four carhops.
    Godfrey circled over to Five Points and hit Stan’s Drive-in. The manager said his Saturday-Sunday girls were all off now. Godfrey wrote down their names and home numbers:
    Eve McKinley / ED3-6733; Ellen “Nicky” Nichols / ED3-6442; Lavonne “Pinky” Chambers / ED7-6686.
    It was 4:00 p.m. Godfrey swung south on Garvey and stopped at the Melody Room.
    The owner introduced himself as Clyde. He heard out Godfrey’s questions and told him to contact Bernie Snyder, the night barman. Bernie closed the place at 2:00 a.m. Sunday. Call Bernie and talk to him.
    A customer butted in. He said
he
was here Sunday morning—and
he
saw a ponytailed blonde huddled up with a dark-haired guy. The guy was thirty to thirty-five. The ponytail and him were acting real nervous.
    Clyde said the ponytail sounded like a regular named Jo. She worked for Dun & Bradstreet in L.A. He called the woman a “bar lizard.” The dark-haired guy didn’t come off familiar at all.
    Godfrey took down the customer’s name and phone number. Clyde urged him to call Bernie Snyder—Bernie knew all the faces.
    Godfrey called from the bar. Bernie’s wife answered. She said Bernie wouldn’t be back until 5:30—try him then.
    It was 4:30 p.m. Most of your local nightspots didn’t open until 6:00 or 7:00. Godfrey was running up a long phone call list.
    The Desert Inn was a hillbilly joint. It used to be called the Jungle Room and Chet’s Rendezvous. Myrtle Mawby bought the place for her kid brother, Ellis Outlaw. Ellis renamed it Outlaw’s Hideout.
    Ellis was always in trouble with the cops and the fucking Internal Revenue Service. The Feds shut him down for skimming withholding money from his employees—then let him reopen so he could pay off his debt. Ellis brained Al Man-ganiello with a bottle back in ’55 and narrowly avoided a jail stretch. He just couldn’t make the Hideout turn a steady profit.
    He sold it back to Chet Williamson. Chet renamed it the Desert Inn and let Ellis run it. Ellis came from a barkeeping family. His sister Myrtle shot her husband in the ear once and got two cocktail bars in the ensuing divorce settlement.
    Ellis owned the bungalows behind the Desert Inn parking lot. His pal Al Manganiello rented a flop from him. Ellis ran a small handbook out of the bar. He took action on all the races at Hollywood Park and Santa Anita.
    Ellis got popped for drunk driving in May of ’57. Two El Monte cops said he tried to bribe them—nice coin if they shit-canned the arrest report. A couple of Ellis’ buddies offered them backup bribes.
    The bribe offers were relative chump change.