Ellroy - Crime Wave

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Ellroy - Crime Wave
CRIME WAVE: REPORTAGE AND FICTION FROM THE UNDERSIDE OF L.A.
by James Ellroy
Copyright 1999 by James Eliroy
I
INTRODUCTION
by Art Cooper, Editor-in-Chief, GQ
It was love at first sight. I first met James Ellroy in the fall of 1993 at The
Four Seasons restaurant, a midtown Manhattan mecca for publishing poobahs where
lunch for two can easily exceed the advance for a first novel. The first word
James uttered was "Woof!"--and thus did the Demon Dog of American Literature
enter my life and _GQ_'s. In the five years since, James has contributed some of
the finest journalism and fiction we have published, and all of it is included
in this volume. Contrary to the convention that writers make their names in
magazines before turning to books, James was at the top of his game as a
novelist when he decided to try magazine writing.
James is a big man with a big voice and a big personality. Those who don't know
him well find him intimidating. So do those who know him well. And he is
fearless as a Doberman, which I discovered early on when we were trying to
decide on a perfect story. Having admired his _The Black Dahlia_, I acknowledged
my own fascination with Hollywood murders of the '4os and '50s. The conversation
went something like this:
ME: You know, some Miss Idaho goes to Hollywood to be a star, doesn't make it,
works as a cocktail lounge waitress or a hooker, and winds up horribly and
mysteriously murdered. JAMES: Well, I'm obsessed by an unsolved murder. My
mother was murdered when I was 10. She had been drinking in some bar and left
with a guy. They found her body on an access road by a high school. She had been
strangled. They never found who did it. ME (_excitedly_): That's it! Write your
obsession. Reinvestigate it. Write it. Right away. JAMES: Yes, Godfather. (He
calls me Godfather all the time. I like it. It makes me feel well-tailored.)
I didn't find out until a couple of years later that James went immediately from
my office to visit with his agent, Nat Sobel, a wise, compassionate man on every
occasion but this one. Art wants me to write about my mother's murder, said
James. Don't do it, advised Nat. It will dredge up a lot that I don't think you
want to confront. I'm gonna do it, said the Doberman. The article, "My Mother's
Killer," appeared in our August 1994 issue and was one of the most widely
praised magazine pieces of that year. James later expanded the piece into his
bestselling memoir _My Dark Places_.
I am not alone in thinking that everything that James has written, indeed his
very essence, has been shaped by the murder of Geneva Hilliker Ellroy. He
acknowledges as much when writing of her in "My Mother's Killer": "The woman
refused to grant me a reprieve. Her grounds were simple: My death gave you a
voice, and I need you to recognize me past your exploitation of it." James
inscribed my copy of _My Dark Places_ "She lives!"
Accompanying the article there was a photograph of James just after he has been
told of his mother's death. Look at his eyes. They are shocked, uncomprehending.
Side 1
Ellroy - Crime Wave
Raised by his father, a rakish "Hollywood bottom feeder" (James's words), who
did or did not "pour the pork" to Rita Hayworth, James grew to be a teen punk, a
peeping torn and a petty thief who broke into houses to sniff women's panties.
He filed away, in his mind, everything he saw when he was strung out on drugs or
drunk on cheap booze or spending nine months in local lockups--nightmarish,
photographic visions that would fuel his noirish fiction.
These complex tales of Los Angeles's seamy underside provide the truest social
history of the city in the 1940s and '50s, an era of "bad white men doing bad
tings in the name of authority." Ellroy's stories are as dense as an overcrowded
prison, but his syiicopated style is deceptive: short, staccato, often
alliterative bursts. But they are not riffs. Each muscular sentence follows the
next and orderly advances the plot. His protagonists are deeply wounded men on
both sides of the law, scarred and corrupted by what they have seen.
James had achieved a reputation as the best American hardboiled crime writer
when his novel _L.A. Confidential_ was turned into a critical and commercial hit
movie, which happily introduced him to a much larger audience. He writes about
that experience here in "Bad Boys in Tinseltown." In this volume, too, are three
short fictions that continue where _L.A. Confidential_ ended: "Hollywood
Shakedown," "Hush-Hush," and "Tijuana, Mon Amour." James reprises Danny
Getchell, the cannily corrupt star writer of _Hush-Hush_ magazine, who has the
grisly goods on almost everyone in Tinseltown and will blackmail anyone to
obtain exclusive dirt. Ellroy gleefully dips in the muck his band of merry
miscreants, including Jack Webb, Mickey Cohen, Frank Sinatra, Lana Turner,
Johnny Stompanato, Dick Contino, Sammy Davis Jr., Oscar Levant, and Rock Hudson.
There is a raunchy ring of verisimilitude, a truly bizarre believability, to the
way Ellroy makes them behave.
Two years ago I hosted a dinner party at The Four Seasons for another '5os icon,
7 1-year-old Tony Curtis, who arrived wearing a ruffled white shirt, a tuxedo
jacket without lapels, a medal from the French government on his chest, and his
stunning 2 6-yearold, 6'1" girlfriend, Jill Van Den Berg, on his arm. James was
there as were Tom Junod, who had written a brilliant profile of Curtis for GQ,
and an editor whose name will come to me in a moment. When I suggested that Tony
be seated away from the other diners, James thought it would be better if he sat
near them. James, of course, was right. All evening, middle-aged suburban
matrons fawned over Tony, pleaded for his autograph, touched him, told him he
was the handsomest movie star ever.
We drank some surpassingly good wine, laughed a lot, and listened raptly to Tony
and James, back and forth like a shuttlecock, tell ribald tales of Hollywood in
the '5os. It became clear to me that no one alive knows more than James about
that particular time in that particular place. He seems to know everything about
the famous, the near-famous, and the infamous. Especially their penis size. His
novels, like his conversation, abound with references to it. Some of his
characters are "hung like a donkey," others "like a cashew." Why he is so
obsessed is best left to Freudians, but for Ellroy, more than any other writer,
anatomy is truly destiny.
Ellroy's destiny was to be a moralist. But he doesn't ride his moralism like
some hobbyhorse. When he is outraged by some wrongdoing, he gets really juiced.
Shortly after 0. J. Simpson committed the double-slash of ex-wife Nicole and her
friend, Ron Goldman, I asked James if he'd write an essay on the Crime of the
Century. Yes, indeed, he replied. The result made the hair on the back of my
neck stand up. "Sex, Glitz, and Greed: The Seduction of 0. J. Simpson" is a
passionate, powerful piece that skewers Simpson and the horrific Hollywood
celebrity culture that spawned him. Several months ago, James was in moral high
dudgeon again, this time outraged at Bill Clinton's sexual dalliance with Monica
Lewinsky and his rather bizarre pronouncement that a blow job really isn't sex.
James was itching to rip Bubba, and I, perhaps unwisely, declined.
Side 2
Ellroy - Crime Wave
This white-hot morality and a singular narrative gift aside, I think James has
become one of the finest writers of our time because he is the most disciplined
scrivener I have ever known. He rises early and spends io hours every day
writing. He has never been blocked. He seems always to be juggling a novel,
short fiction, and his magazine work. Astonishingly, he has never missed a
deadline. He possesses the concentration--and the confidence--of a cat burglar;
the outline of his novel-in-progress runs 343 pages.
Genius has its rewards. Ellroy now commands advances robust enough to dine
regularly at The Four Seasons. Last October he flew from his home in Kansas City
to New York where, resplendent in black tie (James is some bespoke dandy), he
accepted GQ's Man of the Year Award for Literature, for which he was selected by
our ferociously intelligent readers. The two previous winners are Norman Mailer
and John Updike. Mr. Mailer and Mr. Updike should feel flattered.
PART ONE
UNSOLVED
BODY DUMPS
I
DETECTIVE DIVISION/HOMICIDE BUREAU/LOS ANGELES COUNTY SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT (EL
MONTE PD ASSISTING). VICTIM: SCALES, BETTYJEAN. DOD: 1/29/73. DISPOSITION:
MURDER/187 PC. FILE #073-01946-2010400 (UNSOLVED)
I
The victim was a 24-year-old white female. She lived at 2633 Cogswell, El Monte.
The city was downscale. The racial mix was white trash and low-rent Latin.
The victim was married to William David Scales--a 26-year-old white male. They
had a 4-year-old daughter and a 3-monthold son. The victim was unemployed. Her
husband installed insulation.
8:00 P.M. Monday, 1/29/73:
The victim leaves her apartment. She's alone. Her stated intention: to deposit
some checks at a bank night drop and shop at Durfee Drugs and Crawford's Market.
She takes off in her husband's Ford pickup. Scales stays home. He watches the
kids and checks out the _Laugh-In_ TV show.
The bank is a block from the market. Durfee Drugs is one mile west. Their
apartment sits equidistant.
It's a tight local spread. Scales figures his wife will be gone one hour.
9:00, 9:30, 10:00. No Betty Jean. The baby wants food. Scales feeds him and
slaps on fresh diapers. He's ticked off and worried. He's working on pissed off
and scared. He starts running abandonment tapes.
Betty left me and the kids. Betty stuck me with the kids. Betty's got a
boyfriend. They're at his place or a bar or a motel. They're bopping at the
Side 3
Ellroy - Crime Wave
Nashville West.
He calmed down. He switched tapes. Betty needs some time by herself.
To unwind. To cut loose. To visit her girlfriends.
He called Connie, Terry, and Glenda. They said they hadn't seen Betty, He ran
tapes from 10:30 to midnight. He called the El Monte PD and the California
Highway Patrol. He described his truck and his wife. He asked about car wrecks.
No go:
Your truck was not involved in any reported collisions.
He ran crash tapes to 2:oo A.M. He called the El Monte PD back. He got another
No. The desk man said sit tight and wait by the phone.
He tried to sit tight. The tapes kept spinning. He left his kids alone and
walked by Crawford's Market and the Nashville West. They were closed. He didn't
see his wife or his truck. He walked home. He called the girlfriends again. He
got three more No's. He fell asleep on the couch and woke up at 5:30. He called
Betty Jean's dad in Corona. Bud Bedford said he hadn't seen or heard from
BettyJean. He said he'd shoot up to El Monte.
Bill Scales and Bud Bedford connected. They drove by Durfee Drugs, the bank, and
the market. They did not see Betty Jean or the truck. They drove to the El Monte
PD. They filed a missingpersons sheet. Scales said his wife was devoted. She
wasn't a runaround chick. She didn't smoke dope or chase men. She wouldn't just
split unannounced.
The cops told Scales and Bedford to sit tight. Don't think car wrecks or
abductions. We're legally constrained until your wife is gone forty-eight hours.
Think car wrecks or abductions then.
Bill Scales thought it now. Bud Bedford thought it. They did not sit tight.
They drove the #10 Freeway east/west. They drove the 605 north/south. They
stopped at gas stations. They talked to attendants. They described Betty Jean
and the truck. Scales got a bug up his ass. He knew his wife was kidnapped. He
_knew_ the guy stopped to gas up.
More _No's_. _No's_ straight across. No Betty Jean/no truck.
Bedford went home. He'd divorced Betty's mother years back. He had to break the
news and say it don't look good.
Scales stuck the kids with a baby-sitter. He borrowed a car and went at the
freeways systematically. He hit gas stations. He flashed a snapshot of Betty. He
got a straight run of No's.
Wednesday, 1/3 1/73:
Side 4
Ellroy - Crime Wave
The missing-persons investigation kicked in pro forma. An APB went out. A
Teletype detailed the truck and Betty Jean Scales:
WF/DOB 3/6/49, 54", 115, brown hair, brown eyes. Last seen
wearing a red-pink top, brown Levi's, and white tennis shoes.
1:30A.M. Thursday, 2/1/73:
An El Monte PD unit spots the truck. It's parked in the lot at Vons Market. The
location: Peck Road and Lower Azusa. The location: two miles north of 2633
Cogswell. The location: 2.5 miles north of Durfee Drugs, the bank, and
Crawford's Market.
A patrolman impounds the truck. He tows it to a yard in South El Monte. He talks
to a clerk at Vons Market. The clerk says the truck was in the lot at least
forty-eight hours. He noticed it around 4:oo A.M.--Tuesday, 1/30.
Eight hours after BettyJean left her apartment.
The El Monte PD contacts Sheriff's Homicide. The Scales thing vibes murder.
Deputy Hal Meyers and Sergeant Lee Koury drive to the tow yard.
They examine the truck.
In the bed: metal scaffolds, a milk crate, an empty cardboard box, a leather
tool holder, a matching belt, and a length of rope. In the cab: three bottles of
baby formula in a small box. A purse, a white bra, white panties, one left-foot
white tennis shoe, and a pair of brown Levi's.
The box is on the floor. The clothes are stacked beside it.
Koury and Meyers look under the seat. They find the matching shoe. A key ring is
tucked inside. They note a blood spot on the canvas.
On the seat: a red-pink sweater. Distinct bloodstains. A toolbox on the step by
the passenger door. Blood spotted.
More bloodwork:
Smears on the seat back. Spatters on the inside of the passenger door. Drops on
the step near the toolbox.
Koury called the crime lab and told them to send out a crew. Meyers opened the
purse. He found cosmetic items, three checks made out to William D. Scales,
Betty Jean Scales's ID, and a checkbook. The last check logged in: $9.71, to
Durfee Drugs, 1/29/73. Meyers checked the box on the floor. He found a
Side 5
Ellroy - Crime Wave
cashregister receipt for $9.71. Koury called the EL Monte PD and told them to
contact the husband.
The lab crew arrived. A print man dusted the truck inside and out. He found no
latent prints. He found wipe marks on the steering wheel and dashboard. A man
scraped blood samples and cut a swatch out of the seat back. He found a long
brown hair congealed in a blood smear.
1:30 P.M., 2/1/73:
Koury and Meyers meet Bill Scales at the El Monte PD. Scales recounts his wife's
Monday-night plans. He runs down his own actions and describes his marriage as
stable.
3:30 P.M., 2/1/73:
Koury and Meyers drive to Durfee Drugs. They interview a clerk named Gloria
Terrazas. Mrs. Terrazas ID's a photo of the probable victim and says she came in
about 8:30 Monday night. She purchased some baby formula and paid by check. She
came in and left alone. She behaved in a normal fashion.
4:00 P.M., 2/1/73:
Koury and Meyers drive to Crawford's Market. They grill the people working
Monday night. They flash a photo of the probable victim. They say, "When was the
last time you saw her?" They get a straight consensus: She did not come in
Monday night.
It looks tight and local. The probable victim leaves her pad and drives to
Durfee Drugs. She never gets to Crawford's or the bank. Her deposit-ready checks
are still in her purse. It looks like a snatch. The guy grabs her outside Durfee
Drugs or en route to the bank and Crawford's. He hijacks the truck. He dumps her
and dumps the truck at Vons Market. The truck was in the lot from 4:00 A.M.
Tuesday on.
Or it's the husband.
6:oo P.M., 2/1/73:
Koury and Meyers meet Bill Scales at the tow yard. Scales ID's his truck and the
items in the bed. He points to the empty box. He says his staple-bat is missing.
It's very heavy. Maybe the guy beat his wife to death with it.
Koury and Meyers look at Scales real close.
Scales looks in the cab. He spots some gravel on the floor. He extrapolates.
Some clown kidnapped his wife. He beat her to death with his staple-bat and
dumped her in the Irwindale pits.
It's a good theory.
Side 6
Ellroy - Crime Wave
Koury and Meyers make Bill Scales as one cold motherfucker.
The Irwindale gravel pits ran northeast of El Monte. They bordered the 6o5
Freeway. They covered twenty-four square miles. They fused with flood-control
basins and brushland.
The pits ran fifteen to 150 feet deep. Paved roads connected them. Street access
was cake. You could pull off east-west thoroughfares and drive right in.
The pits looked psychedelic. Scoop cranes hung over them all day and all night.
Rainfall turned the pits into tide pools. Water collected and receded at a very
slow rate.
Heavy rain hit L.A. that winter. The pit floors were submerged. The pit line
began 1 .5 miles east of Vons Market.
The Scales thing vibed body dump. The cops figured she was down in the pits.
Friday, 2/2/73:
A search team goes in. Deployed: one Sheriff's helicopter, ten deputies, three
El Monte PD men, and three Sheriff's Homicide men. The chopper flies low. The
cops kick through wet gravel all day.
Saturday, 2/3/73:
The search resumes. Deployed: one chopper, seven deputies, two El Monte PD men,
four Sheriff's Homicide men and 103 horsemen from the Sheriff's Mounted Posse.
The search area is greatly expanded. It covers El Monte, Baldwin Park,
Irwindale, Azusa, Arcadia, and unincorporated parts of L.A. County,
The chopper flies low. The walking cops wear hip boots. The horses buck
knee-high water. A storm hits at 3:00 P.M. The search is called off.
The storms continued. Big rain on Sunday and Monday. The search was postponed
indefinitely. They had to let the water recede.
Koury and Meyers called it a snatch, rape, and kill. They leaned on registered
sex offenders. They logged in zero suspects.
They door-to-doored by Durfee Drugs and Vons Market. They tapped out. Nobody saw
anything. They interviewed the probable victim's father, mother, stepfather,
stepmother, and brother. The father and mother ragged the husband:
He's a lowlife. He's a tyrant. He's a cold son of a bitch. Bud Bedford says it
flat out: He killed Betty Jean.
Wednesday, 2/7/73:
Side 7
Ellroy - Crime Wave
Bill Scales is summoned to the Sheriff's Crime Lab. Sergeant Ben Lubon
administers a polygraph test. Koury, Meyers, and an El Monte PD man observe.
Lubon calls the result conclusive. The subject has no guilty knowledge of his
wife's disappearance and possible death.
The Scales job stalled out. No body and no workable crime scene. Koury and
Meyers caught fresh murders. The new jobs demanded full-time work. The rain came
and went. The pits were full of stagnant water.
3:30 P.M. Sunday, 2/25/73:
A perimeter road near a big pit mined by Conrock-Durbin. A five-gallon can on
the side of the road.
A security guard stops his car and picks up the can. His dog jumps out of the
car and runs into the pit. The guard whistles. The dog barks and ignores the
command. The guard walks to the edge of the pit and looks down.
She was nude. She was faceup at the bottom of the pit. The staplebat was
fifty-seven inches from her left hand.
She was badly decomposed. Immersion had intensified the decomp. Maggots had
eaten her eyes and most of her membranous tissue.
Her skull was caved in. Her hair fell out as she decomped. Maggots swarmed
inside the cranial vault.
Matted hair on the business end of the staple-bat.
A dozen cops hit the crime scene. They grid-searched the pit. A chopper flew
over. A photo deputy shot some wide-angles.
The grid search tapped out. Zero: dirt, rocks, mud, and gravel. A deputy coroner
requisitioned the body,
He performed a postmortem. His stated cause of death: bluntforce trauma and
resultant skull fractures. His semen smear turned up inconclusive. The vaginal
membranes were waterlogged and badly decomposed.
Everyone knew who she was. They tagged her Jane Doe #10 anyway. They needed a
formal ID.
They ID'd her off dental charts:
BettyJean Bedford Scales. Born 3/6/49. Probable date of death: 1/29/73.
Side 8
Ellroy - Crime Wave
Koury and Meyers worked the case part-time. They checked recent sex assaults
with suspects at large. Their geographic focus: El Monte/Baldwin Park/Irwindale.
12/16/72:
2:00 A.M. The Baldwin Park Post Office. 220 PC--Assault with Intent to Commit
Rape.
A white youth accosts a 44-year-old white female. He shoves her into her car at
knifepoint. He rips off her bra, pulls down her pants, and fondles her buttocks.
The victim screams. The suspect flees on foot.
12/17/72:
3:45 A.M. The all-night laundromat at 4428 Peck, El Monte. 220 PC--Assault with
Intent to Commit Rape.
A male Latin accosts a 56-year-old white female. She works at the laundry and
another laundry four blocks away.
The suspect tries to push her into a storeroom. He states, "I want pussy! I want
pussy! I don't want to rob you!" The victim pulls a safety pin off her coat. She
stabs the suspect. The suspect screams and runs out the door. The victim calls
the El Monte PD. A patrol team responds. She tells them: "I saw the same man at
two o'clock this morning. He cruised by my other laundry and looked in the
window."
1/4/73:
1:00 A.M. The all-night laundromat at 4851 Peck, El Monte. 207 PC--Kidnapping,
261 PC--Rape, 245 PC--Assault with a Deadly Weapon, 10851 CVC--Grand Theft/Auto.
A male Latin accosts a 26-year-old white female. He saps the victim. He forces
her into her car and takes the wheel. He drives out the 605 Freeway, the 210
Freeway, and Highway 71. He stops on a side street and orders the victim out. He
marches her into a brush field. He rapes her and forces her to orally copulate
him. He marches her to her car and drives her back to El Monte. He forces her
out of the car at Cherrylee and Buffington. He tells her he'll leave the car at
Cherrylee and Peck.
The suspect leaves the car at that location. He wipes down the steering wheel
and dashboard.
2/2/73:
1:45 A.M. Lower Azusa and Peck, El Monte. 314.1 PC--Indecent Exposure.
A male Latin accosts a 36-year-old white female. The victim is standing by a bus
bench. The suspect displays his penis. He states, "I can't sleep tonight because
I can't get anyone to fuck."
Side 9
Ellroy - Crime Wave
The victim yells. The suspect walks away. A passing patrol car stops him. The
suspect is carrying three pornographic books. The titles are _Husband and
Friend_, _A Widow 's Hun ger_, and _Cocker Conqueror_.
The suspect was arrested. He was grilled on the laundromat jobs. He was
exonerated.
The laundromat freak was still out there. His assaults preceded the Scales
snatch by forty-two and twenty-five days. Vons Market was one hundred yards from
4428 Peck.
Durfee Drugs was two miles south. The killer grabbed the Scales woman at 8:30
P.M. The laundromat freak worked the late shift. He didn't quite vibe for the
Scales job.
The post-office assault preceded the Scales snatch by fortythree days.
Koury and Meyers worked fresh murders. They stopped checking sex-assault sheets.
3/8/73:
7:15 P.M. Baldwin Park Post Office. 2o7/286/288A PC--Kidnapping, Sodomy, Oral
Copulation.
A white youth accosts a 1 7-year-old white female. He flashes a knife and forces
her to drive to a nearby park.
The area is secluded. The victim parks in the lot. The suspect forces her into
the backseat and orders her to disrobe. She complies. The suspect gets in the
backseat. He pulls down his pants and fondles the victim's genitalia.
He gets an erection. He partially penetrates the victim's anus. He forces her to
orally copulate him. He masturbates and ejaculates on the victim's chest. He
tells her to get dressed. She complies. He marches her into the park and orders
her to take off her clothes. She complies. The suspect grabs her clothes and
flees on foot.
3/13/73:
9:35 P.M. Food King Market. 14103 Ramona, Baldwin Park. 242 PC--Battery.
A white youth accosts a 2 5-year-old white female. He opens the passenger door
of her car. He grabs the victim and tears her jacket. The victim pulls free. She
runs from the car. The suspect flees on foot.
3/14/73:
7:15 P.M. Lucky Market. 13940 Ramona, Baldwin Park. 207/220
PC--Kidnapping/Attempt Rape.
A white youth accosts a 29-year-old white female. He opens the driver's-side
door of her car. He flashes a knife and says, "Slide over." The victim complies.
Side 10
摘要：

Ellroy - Crime WaveCRIME WAVE: REPORTAGE AND FICTION FROM THE UNDERSIDE OF L.A. by James EllroyCopyright 1999 by James Eliroy IINTRODUCTION by Art Cooper, Editor-in-Chief, GQIt was love at first sight. I first met James Ellroy in the fall of 1993 at The Four Seasons restaurant, a midtown Manhattan m...

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