Savage Noir

  Chapter 51 That night Terry and I discussed watching Dorothy Latham’s house. Was she still living there? What did she look like? The only thing we had was an address.  “I’ve got to talk to her, and the sooner the better,” I said. We were half watching a Giant’s game in Pac Bell Park. They were two runs behind the Padres, but Rich Aurelia was at the plate. Lurking behind him was Bonds, limbering up. Aurilia hit one over the left field fence. Foul. By three feet. “He’s dialed in,” I said. “Why isn’t he walking back to the dugout?” he asked. “Because he’s not out.” “That was three strikes,” he said. “He’s out.” “Not if he connects. He’s still alive.” “This game makes no fuckin’ sense!” “It sort of does.”  Teaching him the infield fly rule- ever - is out of the question, I thought. Aureilia took the next pitch. A strike. “He’s got a cute butt,” Terry said. “He’s married,” I said. By then he knew that I knew he was gay, but we...

  Chapter 50 I got off the streetcar and headed back into St. Francis Woods, determined to push ahead with my investigation. The feds had thrown a few crumbs my way, which was more than I expected. Now it was on to Irv Feingold, Amy’s father.  My phone call caught him just as he was leaving his office, and he had disconnected before I could introduce myself.  I rang the doorbell and Amy answered it. “Yes?” she asked haughtily, as if she was speaking to a salesman. I handed her my card. “I know who you are.” “I’d like to speak with your father, if he’s around. I called him earlier but he was just leaving the office and—” “He might not want to talk to you. “I’m investigating the murder of your best friend. I’m making good progress, but…” Good was pushing it. Maybe if he knows that…” “Maybe. But after it happened, two cops came over and interviewed him. He was a suspect.” “Based on…?” “Nothing. They insisted that he come down to the station. Tr...

  Chapter 49 Agent Driscoll showed me into the office , as before. “He’s early today.” “So I see,” said Thornhill. We sat down. “You asked me to let you know if I figured out the brands. You know, the initials. “And did you?” “Pretty much. Yeah.” I carefully explained the significance of the initials, how they related to the names of followers of Charles Manson.  It took a while. They listened with rapt attention. I didn’t know if I was being recorded and I didn’t ask. “Did you figure out why Manson chose to—for lack of a better word—memorialize  members in particular?” asked Thornhill. “I can only guess.” “And your guess is…?” Driscoll prodded. “Maybe because they lived with him at the Barker Ranch. Manson was on the run, wanted for auto theft.” He nodded. “He saw them every day,” I added. “That’ll do until something better comes along,” said Thornhill. “Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick,” said Driscoll. “...

  Chapter 48 After more than a week of trying , I was unable to corral Zack Tyler. He and his druggie pals knew I was neither a cop, nor a certified private investigator. They all lied for him or just clammed up. I tried to find the kid that was hanging around Lowell the night of my visit. It was clear that he hated Zack. Otherwise he would not have told me about Zack’s “storefront” beneath a bridge. I began to think that Zack was selling in a new location. Meanwhile, my stoner informant had seemingly disappeared. “It frustrates the hell outta me,” I complained to Colin on the phone. “Don’t sweat it. Even if you catch him it will do you no good. He’ll lie through his teeth again. Remember, we can’t pick him up until we see him commit a crime. I know it sucks, but…” “I just had an idea,” I said. “Yeah? Run it by me.” “You’ve got it.” “Got what?” he asked. “The interview. Starring Zack, Slim and Shorty.” “After what happened on your last visit, I’m leery about you...