Zoot-Suit Murders Read Online Free PDF Page B

of honking cars on South Grand Street and up red-tiled steps into the old Spanish church. He shut out the midday sun behind him with towering oak doors, his eyes taking a moment to adjust in the long cool cavities of darkness fingering off into small altars. Far before him, at the end of adobe walls, the ornate main altar appeared on fire from steep banks of penance candles flickering wildly in wine-red glass holders. Younger knelt in the center of the main aisle and made the Sign of the Cross while his eyes carefully searched out others in the church. He approached the altar quietly, keeping his back to several praying people scattered about in hundreds of pews beneath dark hanging candle chandeliers. He waited by the life-size statue of the Guadalupe Virgin, pushing the sleeve of his coat above his wristwatch. It was exactly two o’clock. He knelt before the Virgin. Behind her the sacristy door swung open; the nylon swish of a priest’s black cassock rushed through the hazy air around Younger. The priest approached the altar, knelt, and continued toward Younger, carefully placing a silver vase filled with the heady odor of fresh-cut lilies at the feet of the Virgin.
    The benign brown of the priest’s eyes peered questioningly at Younger. “You are in need of confession, my son?”
    “Yes,
padre
.”
    The priest nudged the edge of his cassock above his wrinkled wrist, contemplating the stiff gray hairs standing off around the gold of his watch. He looked solemnly into Younger’s eyes. “It is time.”
    Younger rapidly made the Sign of the Cross before the Virgin, then rose, hurriedly walking along the outside aisle to the back of the church and slipping quietly into the dark confessional. He fumbled in the dark for the kneeler, touched its padded leather top, and knelt down. Behind the opaque screen before him was the indistinct shape of a head. A small light clickedon over the head, its soft illumination barely outlining the blunt features of Senator Kinney’s face.
    “Have you seen the Voice of the Right Idea?”
    “No, just La Rue.”
    “What do you think?”
    “She’s crazy.”
    “Can you get to her?”
    “I’ve been to two weeks of those crackpot meetings. She knows I’m there.”
    “Can you get to La Rue or not, Younger?”
    “Yes, but I don’t know what this has to do with gathering intelligence on the Sinarquistas. I play around at those silly Mankind Incorporated meetings much longer and I won’t have any credibility left.”
    “Don’t worry about that, it’s not your concern now.”
    “Don’t worry about that! There I am, alone out in the Barrio, and all you say is don’t
worry
.”
    Kinney slid the screen back, showing Younger a smug smile of confidence. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered.”
    “Swell, just like you had those two FBI agents covered.”
    “That was unfortunate.”
    “Unfortunate doesn’t make them any less dead. The thing is I’m not even like those two guys. I’m out there alone and unarmed. You’re the only one who knows who I really am.”
    “We’ll take care of you, I promise.”
    “Promises won’t protect me from the Sinarquistas. These guys play for keeps. In case you haven’t noticed, the Fascists won the war in Spain.”
    “Then you’ll receive a weapon. Now tell me, what do you know about this so-called International Legion of Vigilantes?”
    “For the last time, Senator, investigating Mankind Incorporated is a waste of precious time. There are real enemies out there, killers, Fascists. When I hired on after Pearl Harbor to do this job of investigating un-American activities in the Barrio, it was because you said I’d be doing a service for my country. You said I’d help the war effort more by going underground ineast Los Angeles than by fighting Japs and Jerries overseas. If you don’t let me dig to the bottom of Sinarquista activities, and keep me sniffing around the Barrio after a bunch of religious wackos, then I’m trotting to the