My Dark Places

13

He learned some things about murder early on. He learned that men killed with less provocation than women. Men killed because they were drunk, stoned and pissed off. Men killed for money. Men killed because other men made them feel like sissies.

Men killed to impress other men. Men killed so they could talk about it. Men killed because they were weak and lazy. Murder sated their lust of the moment and narrowed down their options to a comprehensible few.

Men killed women for capitulation. The bitch wouldn’t give them head or give them her money. The bitch overcooked the steak. The bitch threw a fit when they traded her food stamps for dope. The bitch didn’t like them pawing her 12-year-old daughter.

Men did not kill women because they were systematically abused by the female gender. Women killed men because men fucked them over just that rigorously and persistently.

He considered the rule binding. He didn’t want the rule to be true. He didn’t want to see women as a whole race of victims.

The issue of free will perplexed him. Many female murder victims put themselves in harm’s way and passively co-signed their death warrants. He didn’t want to concede the point. He had a gender-wide crush on women. It was big and random and essentially idealistic. It kept him faithful when his marriage strayed bad.

His first victim was female.

Billy Farrington broke him in at Sheriff’s Homicide. Billy was a black fashion plate. Billy wore custom suits to crime scenes replete with stiffs purging stomach gas and feces. Billy taught him to read crime scenes very slowly and deliberately.

Billy was 55 and near the end of his law-enforcement career. Billy had a big block of vacation time accrued. Billy let him work the Daisie Mae case solo.

It was a body dump up in Newhall. A man spotted a burning bundle and extinguished the flames. He called the New-hall Sheriff’s Station. The watch commander called Sheriff’s Homicide.

Stoner rolled out. He sealed off the crime scene and examined the body.

The victim was fully clothed. She was white and elderly. Her face was contorted. She looked almost mongoloid.

She was wrapped in a U.S. flag and some baby blankets. The bundle was cinched with electrical cord. The blankets were soaked in gasoline or a similar noxious accelerant. She looked like she took some bludgeon shots to the head.

Stoner walked the area. He saw no footprints, no tire tracks and no discarded bludgeon tools. The area was hilly and brush-covered. The killer probably carried the body up from a nearby access road.

A coroner’s team arrived. They went through the victim’s scorched clothing.

They found no identification. Stoner found a gold chain necklace. It looked like a peace sign or some kind of weird-ass symbol.

Stoner bagged it. The coroner’s team removed the body.

Stoner drove to the Hall of Justice and checked recent missing persons reports. Nothing matched his Jane Doe. He put out a teletype. It stressed the victim’s necklace and said she might be mentally retarded. He called the Information Bureau and told them to put out the word on Jane.

Channel 7 News ran a TV spot that night. Stoner got a call a few minutes later.

A man said he made the necklace. The pendant was an AA symbol. He sold the necklaces at AA meetings in Long Beach.

Stoner drew a picture of the necklace and wrote up the facts on his case beneath it. He added his name and number at Sheriffs Homicide. He mimeographed a hundred copies and distributed them at every AA meeting in the Long Beach area.

A man named Neil Silberschlog saw the flyers and called him. He said the victim sounded like an old AA girl. She was known as Daisie Mae. She was running with a young guy named Ronald Bacon. Silberschlog lived near Bacon. Bacon was driving Daisie Mae’s ’64 Impala. Daisie Mae was nowhere around. Silberschlog thought the deal was hinky.

Stoner drove to Long Beach and met the informant. Silberschlog ID’d a morgue photo of the victim. He said she wasn’t retarded. She was just a crusty old drunk.

Daisie Mae lived nearby. Silberschlog walked Stoner down to her pad.

It was a dive. An old drunk named One-Eyed Betty was crashed out in the front room. Betty said she saw Daisie Mae’s car in front of Ronnie Bacon’s place. Ronnie had Daisie Mae’s watch. He changed the strap and gave it to his 16-year-old girlfriend. Ronnie just got popped for burglarizing a drugstore. He was in the Main L.A. County Jail.

Stoner drove to the jail and interviewed Ronald Bacon. He was 25 years old and stone white trash. He said he went to AA for friendship. He knew Daisie Mae—but he sure didn’t kill her.

Stoner drove back to Long Beach. He searched Bacon’s pad and found an empty gas can. A neighbor said Bacon sold him a blood-soaked couch.

Stoner talked to One-Eyed Betty again. She recounted Daisie Mae’s last day on earth.

Daisie Mae just got her welfare check. She wanted to buy a TV set. One-Eyed Betty and Ronald Bacon wanted to help her spend her money. They drove her around looking for cheap TVs.

They were in Daisie Mae’s car. Bacon made Daisie Mae cash her welfare check. One-Eyed Betty went home. Bacon and Daisie Mae drove off alone.

Stoner requested a warrant on Ronald Bacon. A deputy DA heard him out and filed homicide charges. Bacon was held to answer for one count of murder one.

A woman called Stoner at the Bureau. She told him her daughter used to date Ronald Bacon. Bacon wrote her daughter a very suspicious letter.

The tone was sniveling. Bacon said he just stole some money and was “here in the car with her.” He beat an old woman to death. He started grubbing for sympathy before he torched her body.

A handwriting expert examined the letter and confirmed that Ronald Bacon wrote it. Bacon was tried, convicted and sentenced to life in prison with a no-parole stipulation. Stoner solved his first murder. He learned that men killed women and ran to other women in self-pity.

A Norwalk man shot his wife. He aimed above her head and caught her right between the eyes. The man was just letting off steam. He stashed his marijuana plants before he reported the incident. Stoner popped him for murder two. He learned that men killed women out of boredom.

A black woman shot and killed her husband. She buzzed Lennox Station and placed an anonymous prowler call after the fact. The dispatcher sent a car by her building. The deputies didn’t see any prowler. The woman called Lennox Station back. She told the dispatcher she shot her husband by mistake. He came in the window unexpectedly. She thought he was a prowler. She didn’t know that all incoming station calls were tape-recorded.

The dispatcher called Sheriffs Homicide and explained the situation. Stoner rolled to the crime scene and confronted the woman. She admitted that she shot her husband before she made the first call. She said he’d been beating her up. She showed off her bruises to prove it. Stoner arrested her and ran her husband’s name by the Lennox detective squad. The guys were glad she offed the fucker. They were getting ready to pop him for a string of robberies.

Stoner talked to the woman’s neighbors. They said the heist man beat his wife up regularly. He lazed around the crib while she worked. He spent her money on liquor and dope.

The woman remained in custody. Stoner went to the DA and talked mitigation. The DA agreed to plea-bargain her beef down.

The woman got probation. She called Stoner and thanked him for his kindness. He learned that women killed men when that last blow to the head tipped them just a bit off-center.

Homicide was a learn-as-you-go proposition. The Dora Boldt job was a big education.

He caught it with Billy Farrington. Billy split on another vacation and let him run crazy with it. The job was a two-week tornado.

Dora and Henry Boldt lived in Lennox Division. They were white holdouts in a black neighborhood. They were frail and almost 80 years old.

Their son found them.

Dora was dead in the living-room hallway. A pillowcase was wrapped around her head. It was soaked with blood and brain fluids.

Henry was alive in the bedroom. Somebody beat him and kicked him unconscious.

The house had been ransacked. The phone lines were cut. The son ran next door and called 911.

Patrol units arrived. An ambulance arrived. Henry Boldt regained consciousness. A deputy asked him to hold up one finger if the killer or killers were white and two fingers if they were black. Henry held up two fingers. The ambulance took him away.

Stoner and Farrington arrived. A lab crew showed up. Everybody thought the same thing.

It was two guys. They beat the old lady to death. They did it with their fists, their feet and flashlights.

The lab guys dusted for prints. They found glove marks all over the house. Stoner found a half-eaten piece of cheese on the kitchen floor. A photo man stepped on it and destroyed the teethmarks.

Stoner talked to Dora Boldt’s family. They inventoried the house and helped him compile a list of stolen items. They gave him serial numbers for a missing crockpot and TV set.

Billy Farrington went on vacation. Stoner went to the Lennox detective squad, the Inglewood PD squad and the LAPD’s West L.A. Bureau. He talked to a dozen burglary cops. He talked to some guys at LAPD Homicide. He told them about his case. They described 40 similar B&Es with three murders attached.

The victims were old white women. They were beaten to death. The perpetrators always cut the phone lines and ate food out of the icebox. They bludgeoned their victims. They ransacked their houses and stole their cars 30% of the time. All the victims were elderly whites. All the cars were abandoned within a small radius out in West L.A. All the beatings were savage. One woman lost an eye. The perpetrators were going out every third or fourth night.

Stoner categorized the crimes and wrote up a detailed report. He put out an urgent county-wide bulletin. He went back to the Lennox, Inglewood and West L.A. squads and laid out his information. Everybody thought the same thing: They had to go proactive immediately.

The Beverly Hills PD called Stoner. They saw his bulletin. They had two suspects for him.

Their names were Jeffrey Langford and Roy Benny Wimberly. They were male blacks in their mid-20s. The BHPD got them for two burglaries. They were sentenced to three years state time. They might be out of prison now.

Stoner called the State Parole Bureau and the State DMV. He learned that Wimberly and Langford were paroled a month before the burglaries started. Langford lived in West L.A.— near the spot where the stolen cars were abandoned.

Stoner called in a Metro team and put them under surveillance. Wimberly and Langford cruised in Langford’s jeep three days running. They cruised by two houses in West L.A. and a house in Beverly Hills. Old white people lived in the houses.

Stoner called in the LAPD. A burglary cop named Varner put surveillance teams on the two West L.A. houses. Stoner called in the BHPD. They put a team on the house in their jurisdiction and moved the old people out.

Varner covered two houses. He moved the people out of House #1. The people in House #2 refused to leave. Varner boarded up the living room and planted two cops with shotguns there. The people agreed to hide out under 24-hour guard.

Wimberly and Langford started cruising House #2 exclusively.

Stoner knew they’d hit soon. He set up a helicopter and two street surveillance teams and distributed walkie-talkies. Langford’s house was covered. House #2 was covered. The chopper was set to tail the suspects from a safe distance. Stoner set up a command post at Lennox Station. He was directly linked to House #2 and all mobile units.

The suspects left Langford’s house at 1:00 a.m., 7/3/81.

They drove to the alley behind House #2. The chopper pinned down every move they made.

They parked their jeep. They walked to House #2 and jumped the back fence. They cut the outside phone wires. They started prying at the back bedroom windows.

The windows were boarded shut. The old folks did it as an added precaution. They forgot to tell the cops.

Wimberly and Langford kept prying. The walkie-talkie lines inside House #2 went dead. Stoner contacted his mobile units. They were parked a block from House #2.

Wimberly and Langford kept prying. They kept making big fucking noise. They were bold and stupid. The Big Picture eluded them.

A firecracker went off somewhere down the block. The mobile units thought it was a shot. They hit their lights and sirens and swooped down on Wimberly and Langford.

Wimberly and Langford ran. The mobile units closed the alley off and apprehended them.

Stoner interviewed them at Lennox Station. They wouldn’t cop out to the burglaries or murders. Stoner told them Henry Boldt died. They didn’t react. Stoner told them he made them for five murders total. They played the whole interrogation sullen.

Billy Farrington got back from vacation. He helped Stoner interview the suspects. Langford called Billy a nigger. Stoner got between them and kept things from escalating.

Wimberly and Langford refused to cop out. Stoner searched their houses. Cargo trucks hauled off stolen merchandise. Stoner executed a search warrant on Wimberly’s parents’ house. He recovered lawn mowers, beauty supplies and a gold-plated mirror. He found Dora Boldt’s crockpot. There were no fingerprints on it. The number on the bottom was not a serial number. The crockpot had no evidentiary value.

The stolen merchandise was stored at Parker Center. Victims identified it. Wimberly and Langford were indicted on 18 counts of first-degree burglary. No verifiable items stolen from the Boldt house or the houses of the other murdered women were recovered. Stoner couldn’t file murder charges on Wimberly and Langford. He wanted to kill the fucking photo man who squashed that piece of cheese.

Wimberly and Langford were tried and convicted. Langford got 17 years. Wimberly got 20 to 25. Langford got paroled early. The Feds popped him with two kilos of cocaine. Langford got life with no-parole stipulated.

Stoner went for multiple homicides and settled for burglary one. The Wimberly-Langford job left him pent up and afraid for his parents. Wimberly and Langford grew up middle-class. They were not abused at home. Stoner learned that men killed women for lawn mowers and crockpots.

A man kidnapped a 60-year-old woman. He tried to force her to get cash at some ATMs. The woman kept punching in the wrong code numbers. The man got frustrated and shot her to death.

He dumped her in a church parking lot. He stole her credit cards and bought a pair of size-10 Kinney boots. The Riverside County Sheriff’s chased him down on an old parole warrant. He heard the knock on the door. He hid out in bed underneath his 300-pound girlfriend.

The Riverside cops popped him two days later. He told them he had the goods on an L.A. County murder. A biker told him he whacked an old broad and dumped her behind a church. He could find the biker for them—if they let him out.

The Riverside cops called Stoner and relayed the man’s story. Stoner asked them if the man was wearing size-10 Kinney boots. The cops said he was. Stoner said he’d be right over with a murder warrant.

The man confessed. Sheriff’s Robbery made him for some holdups. His girlfriend was his driver. The man refused to snitch her off. Men killed women and got gooey over women in a heartbeat.

A Cambodian man moved to Hawaiian Gardens. He had two kids from a previous marriage. His first wife died in the war. He had two kids with his new wife. They were hardworking Cambodian-Americans.

The man learned his wife was cheating on him. He stabbed their two kids to death and stabbed himself to death. Stoner learned that men killed women by proxy.

An angel dust addict went prowling in his bathrobe. He broke into a trailer and stabbed an old man in the eyes. Deputies followed blood spots back to his pad. The kid was trying to flush his bathrobe down the toilet. He said he didn’t know why he went out prowling.

Stoner figured he was looking for a woman.

Karen Reilly was a body dump. A guy got a flat tire on the 126 freeway and saw his hubcap fly off into a field. He looked for it. He smelled something dead and almost tripped over Karen.

She was badly decomposed and chewed up by animals. Critters got her hyoid bone. There was no way to determine strangulation. There was no way to run serology or toxicology tests. There was no way to attribute cause of death.

Stoner and Farrington worked the crime scene. The temperature was pushing three digits. They found some jewelry on the body and tagged it.

Stoner checked missing-persons reports. He found a two-week-old LAPD case and contacted the assigned detectives. They told him his decomp sounded like their girl. They picked up the jewelry found on the body and showed it to Karen Reilly’s parents. Her parents ID’d it.

Two private detectives were working the case already. Karen’s parents hired them a few days after Karen disappeared. They met with Stoner and Farrington and gave them a progress report.

Karen Reilly was 19. She liked liquor and unsavory young dudes. She lived with her parents in upscale Porter Ranch.

She signed up at a temp agency. She met a young male Latin named John Soto. Soto worked at the agency. He lived with his common-law wife and kid and his brother Augie and Augie’s 16-year-old girlfriend. Karen was fucking John Soto. Her parents disapproved.

Karen was home right before she vanished. She was drinking jellybeans with a girlfriend. She got zorched. She ranted against John Soto and his “wife.” She said they were crummy parents. She said she wanted to rescue their kid.

Karen left the house alone. Her mom and dad never saw her again.

The Soto brothers furnished the rest of the story.

Karen walked to a main drag and started hitchhiking. Two guys picked her up. The driver asked her for her phone number. Karen gave it to him. The guys dropped her outside the Soto brothers’ building.

The Soto guys let her in. Karen verbally attacked John’s common-law wife and ran out of the apartment. The wife chased her. They traded insults on the sidewalk at 2:00 in the morning. John Soto ran down. He made his wife go upstairs. Augie Soto and his girlfriend walked outside and talked to Karen. Karen said she was going to hitchhike home or hitch to Los Banos Lake.

Augie and his girlfriend walked upstairs. John gave them the keys to his car and told them to go find Karen. It was 2:30 a.m.

Augie and his girlfriend cruised around. They didn’t spot Karen. They drove over to the local 7-Eleven. They bullshitted with a clerk there. They stayed until dawn. They never saw Karen again.

Karen’s parents called the Sotos repeatedly. John Soto told them the same story he told the detectives. Karen’s brother kicked the Sotos’ door in and slapped John and Augie around. They stuck to the story they told the detectives. The Reilly family thought the Soto brothers killed Karen. The detectives disagreed. They figured Karen went hitchhiking and met some fuckhead freak.

Stoner interviewed Karen Reilly’s parents and brother. They condemned the Soto boys. Stoner interviewed John and Augie and their women. They all stuck to their story. Stoner interviewed the 7-Eleven clerk. He disputed Augie’s account of their late-night bullshit session.

Augie said they dropped in around 3:00 a.m. The clerk said they showed up at 5:00. Stoner went back to John and Augie and asked them to take polygraph tests. The brothers agreed.

John passed his test. Augie’s test came back inconclusive. John’s wife and Augie’s girlfriend refused to be tested.

Karen Reilly’s mother called Stoner. She said Karen’s high-school boyfriend tried to kidnap her daughter a few months ago. He grabbed Karen at the house and forced her into his car. Karen’s mother interceded. The boy drove away.

Stoner interviewed the ex-boyfriend. He said he was still in love with Karen. He didn’t want her hanging out with low-rent beaners. He forced Karen into his car to talk some sense to her. The kid agreed to take a polygraph test. His mother intervened and refused to allow it.

Stoner went back to the 7-Eleven. He found out the clerk moved to Vegas and got snuffed in a drug contretemps.

Other homicides occurred. They demanded fast attention. The Karen Reilly case was rife with unindictable suspects. There was no conclusive cause of death.

Say the Soto boys beat the polygraph. Say the old boyfriend killed her. Say a man picked her up hitching. They share some bad dope and Karen ODs. The man strips the body and dumps it. A pervert picks Karen up. He rapes her in his car and offs her to cover a rape bust. A serial killer was out strangling female hitchhikers. Say he ran into Karen.

Stoner worked his fresh cases. He worked the Reilly case in his dreams.

He saw Karen alive and Karen shriveled red-black from heat and decomposition. He saw the ways she might have died. He always woke up trying to pinpoint the moment she crossed that line.

The 7-Eleven guy saw her fucking John Soto in the backseat of his car. The car was bouncing on its rocker beams right there in the parking lot. John’s wife caught the show and created a big ruckus.

Karen invited Augie Soto out to Los Banos Lake. Augie showed up with some buddies. Karen’s aunt and uncle wouldn’t let them in their cabin. Karen camped out with her Mexican friends.

Karen was drinking too much. Karen loved to shock her friends and her uptight parents. Karen was living out a predictably rebellious pattern.

She left her house drunk. She’d just announced her new career goal to a drunken girlfriend. She wanted to be a hooker. She left her house to rouse some unfit parents and rescue their neglected child.

She was confused and stupidly guileless. She was 19. She could have pulled out of her tailspin as easily as she crossed that line.

Stoner couldn’t let her go.

Stupid rebellious girls had limited options. Life favored stupid rebellious boys. Stupid rebellious girls repulsed and titillated. Their act was aimed at this big world out to ignore them. Sometimes the wrong man caught their act in a too-perfect incarnation.

Stoner learned that men killed women because the world ignored and condoned it.

He worked dozens of homicides. He maintained a salutary solve rate. He spent time with his victims’ families. He neglected his own family. His sons grew up fast. He spent half their birthdays at crime scenes. The Los Angeles County murder rate kept escalating. He hacked at his paperwork backlog and sat in stalled freeway traffic. He picked up fresh murders and juggled old murders and went on suicide and industrial-accident calls. He solved nineteen out of twenty-one cases in one calendar year. He worked with good partners and did half the work. He worked with bad partners and did all the work. Some cases jazzed him. Some cases bored him. He worked a million mom-kills-pop and pop-kills-mom murders. He worked two million Mexican bar killings where all 40 eyewitnesses were in the bathroom and claimed they didn’t see nothing. Some cases got him musing on some wild fucking topics. Some cases put him to sleep like a big meal and a bad movie. He chased leads on the “Night Stalker” case. He solved the “Mini-Manson” case and took down some fiends killing fag hustlers. Murders accumulated. It sent him into Murder Commitment Exhaustion. He went on vacation and suffered Murder Commitment Withdrawal. He worked all his cases with the same commitment and discriminated in his head and heart. Court dates accumulated. They circumscribed a wide array of murders. Some were recent. Some were old. He juggled a wide array of facts and rarely fucked up on the witness stand.

He spent eight years on the Drop Zone Expressway. He had no desire to exit. His one dream was simple and altogether silly.

He wanted to limit his murders to a meaningful few.

He got his dream. He got it because Bob Grimm got this wild bug up his ass. Grimm wanted to clear the Cotton Club case. He moved Stoner into the Unsolved Unit early in ’87.

Stoner protested the transfer. Unsolved was an old man’s job. He was only forty-six. He wanted to work fresh cases. Grimm told him to shut up and do as he was told.

The Cotton Club job was famous. The victim was a show-biz sleazebag named Roy Radin. He was killed in ’83. His death purportedly derived from dope intrigue and Hollywood flimflam. It all connected to a shitty flick called The Cotton Club.

Grimm told Stoner he’d be working with Charlie Guenther. It was good news. Guenther was the man who really broke the Charles Manson case. He worked the Gary Hinman job for Sheriff’s Homicide and busted two freaks named Mary Brunner and Bobby Beausoleil. They wrote “Pig” and “Political Piggy” on Hinman’s walls after they killed him. Similar slogans were scrawled at the Tate-LaBianca crime scenes. Guenther went to the LAPD and laid out the Hinman murder. Brunner and Beausoleil were in custody during the Tate-LaBianca time frame. Guenther told the LAPD to check out their pals at the Spahn Movie Ranch. The LAPD ignored Guenther’s advice. They solved Tate-LaBianca by fluke luck several months later.

Guenther was on vacation now. Grimm told Stoner to get acclimated at Unsolved and study the initial Cotton Club file. Stoner browsed old files to get the Unsolved gestalt. Something led him to Phyllis (Bunny) Krauch—DOD 7/12/71.

The case was semi-famous. A reporter ran it by him years back. The Bunny Krauch job caused havoc at Sheriffs Homicide.

Bunny West grew up rich in Pasadena. She married a man named Robert Krauch in the late ’50s and had four kids by him. Krauch was a reporter for the LA, Herald, His father was a big cheese with the paper.

Bunny Krauch was beautiful. She was kindhearted and pathologically cheerful. Robert Krauch was possessive and ill-tempered. Everybody liked Bunny. Nobody liked Robert.

The Krauches moved to Playa del Rey in the early ’60s. They bought a beautiful beachfront home. Robert developed a bad reputation. People considered him eccentric. He rode his bicycle around Playa del Rey and put out hostile vibes.

Marina del Rey was the new hip enclave. It was just a mile north of Playa. It featured boat slips and yachts and lots of groovy bars and restaurants.

Charlie Brown’s opened up in ’68. It was a freewheeling bar and steakhouse with a swinging clientele. The waitresses were all stone foxes. They wore lowcut tops and short dresses. The manager dug the L.A. Lakers. He sucked up to the players and got his girls dates with them. Charlie Brown’s became a big sports hangout.

Bunny Krauch got a waitress job there. She worked the late shift and quit around midnight. She started living a separate life a mile away from her family.

Charlie Brown’s swung hard. The waitresses were always dodging passes. Bunny Krauch got pawed and groped every night.

This Don guy was the King of the Gropers. He worked as a bug exterminator. He was unattractive and well into his ’50s. The waitresses loathed him. He became Bunny Krauch’s lover. Nobody could figure them out.

Don was 20 years older than Bunny. Don was disgusting. Don was a flagrant ass-pincher and a drunk.

The affair went on for three years. Don and Bunny met at a motel on Admiralty Way. They met at Charlie Brown’s and other restaurants in the Marina. They were not discreet. Bunny’s friends knew the score. Robert Krauch did not.

Robert got a vasectomy. Bunny said she wanted to stay on the pill. The pill regulated her period.

Robert did not get the picture.

Bunny died in her car. It was parked in a cul-de-sac near Charlie Brown’s. Somebody strangled her. They tied two Charlie Brown’s napkins around her neck and pulled. Somebody raped her and sodomized her. Her dress was pushed up and her blouse was ripped open. She left Charlie Brown’s at midnight and died soon after. She died in her Charlie Brown’s outfit.

A private patrol guard found her. Sheriff’s Homicide took over.

Don had an alibi. Robert Krauch said he was asleep at home when the murder occurred. A witness saw a man on a bike near the crime scene. Robert Krauch said it wasn’t him. Robert Krauch said he didn’t know his wife was cheating on him.

The patrol guard was a red-hot suspect. A woman said the man and his cousin raped and sodomized her two years ago. It was her word against theirs. The cops believed them. The matter went no further.

Detectives leaned on the guard. He denied the earlier sex beef and denied killing Bunny Krauch. He took a polygraph test and passed it.

A half-dozen detectives were assigned to the case. Dozens more volunteered. The case became the rage of Sheriff’s Homicide. It featured a beautiful victim and a rocking milieu. It was Laura updated to a promiscuous era. Bunny Krauch bewitched all the guys. They wanted to find her killer and fuck him over good. They wanted to meet all the Charlie Brown’s girls. They wanted to shake up the Marina.

They hit the area hard. They turned Charlie Brown’s upside down and hassled every creep who ever pawed Bunny Krauch. They interviewed the L.A. Lakers and Bunny’s waitress pals. They leaned on tit pinchers and registered sex offenders. They chased Bunny’s ghost.

Some drank too much. Some fell in love. Some got righteously laid. A few took the big plunge behind sex and murder and flushed their family lives down the shitter for women they just met.

Bunny Krauch put a hex on Sheriff’s Homicide. Stoner loved her for it. He was sorry some other women got hurt. He knew how to keep things straight. He knew how to keep his thing with women sealed up inside him.

He fell hard for Bunny. He wished the guys who took the big plunge knew how to love like he did.

He clicked with Charlie Guenther. They both liked to work fall-tilt.

They read the Cotton Club file individually and together. They talked to the surviving investigator and got their facts straight.

It started as an LAPD missing-persons case. Roy Radin’s assistant reported Radin missing. Radin was staying at a hotel-apartment complex in West Hollywood. He walked out the door on 5/13/83. He got into a limo with a female coke dealer named Laney Jacobs. Radin and Jacobs were pissed off at each other. Jacobs thought Radin got one of her minions to steal some dope and money from her. Radin and Jacobs were hooked up with a has been producer named Robert Evans. They were haggling over the Cotton Club film project. It was acrimonious bullshit.

Radin and Jacobs were meeting to hash out their disputes. They were supposed to dine at La Scala in Beverly Hills. Radin feared foul play. He told his pal Demond Wilson to tail Laney’s limo. Wilson was a has-been actor. He used to star in the Sanford and Son TV show.

Radin split with Laney. Wilson blew his tail. Radin dropped off the face of the earth.

The LAPD couldn’t find Laney Jacobs. Bob Evans didn’t know where Roy Radin was. The LAPD had Radin pegged as a fly-by-night cokehead. They figured he’d turn up sooner or later. They dropped their investigation.

Radin turned up dead five weeks later. A beekeeper found his body in Caswell Canyon up near Gorman. It was badly decomped. Twenty-two-caliber shell fragments were scattered all around it. Somebody stuck dynamite in Radin’s mouth postmortem. The explosion failed to obliterate his teeth. Forensic techs ID’d the body from dental charts.

Gorman was in L.A. County. Carlos Avila and Willy Ahn caught the case for Sheriff’s Homicide.

They studied the LAPD missing-persons file. They tagged Laney Jacobs as a major coke dealer. They learned that she was tight with a strongarm man named Bill Mentzer. They located Jacobs in Aspen, Colorado. They decided not to jerk her chain just yet. They couldn’t locate Mentzer.

Months passed. Willy Ahn got sick. He learned he had a potentially fatal brain tumor. He worked the Radin case anyway. Carlos Avila checked the LAPD computer and learned that Bill Mentzer was suspected of a recent contract hit.

The victim was named June Mincher. She was an ugly, 200-pound black woman. Most people thought she was a drag queen or a man. She was a prostitute, phone-sex entrepreneur and shakedown artist.

She was hassling a wealthy family. The grandson was one of her tricks. The family hired a private eye named Mike Pascal to teach her a lesson. Pascal farmed the job out to Bill Mentzer. Mentzer pistol-whipped June Mincher and a trick she was fucking at her pad. Mincher kept bugging the family. She was shot to death on 5/3/84. Mentzer was their number-one suspect. They had jackshit for proof.

Avila couldn’t find Mentzer. Months went by. Avila worked fresh murders and came back to the Radin case when his workload thinned out. Willy Ahn was now gravely ill.

An LAPD narc named Freddy McKnight shot his mouth off to a guy in the DA’s Office. McKnight said he had the inside scoop on the Roy Radin job. He was going to bust a big Sheriff’s case himself.

The DA’s man called Bob Grimm. Grimm called his top contact at LAPD and told him to squeeze McKnight. The squeeze worked. McKnight told Grimm and Avila his story.

McKnight had a snitch named Mark Fogel. He popped Fogel with a big load of Laney Jacobs’ coke. Fogel ran a limo service. Bill Mentzer and a guy named Bob Lowe drove for him part-time. Fogel said that Mentzer and Lowe were in on the Radin snuff. Fogel just clued McKnight to a big coke deal. Mentzer and Lowe were bringing two kilos in to the L.A. airport. It was Laney Jacobs’ dope. McKnight was set to bust Mentzer and Lowe right there at LAX.

Avila joined the arrest team. The bust went down smoothly. They took two kilos off Mentzer and Lowe. Mentzer and Lowe refused to discuss the Radin snuff. They bailed out of custody fast.

Mentzer and Lowe shared an apartment in the Valley. Avila got a warrant and searched it. He found a snapshot of Mentzer and two unknown men in the desert. It looked like the spot where Roy Radin’s body was found. Avila found some car registration papers. Laney Jacobs gave Bob Lowe a Cadillac the very day Roy Radin disappeared.

Avila revisited the Radin crime scene. The photo was shot right there. Avila ran the photo by his witnesses. Nobody knew the two men with Mentzer.

Willy Ahn died. Mentzer and Lowe beat the dope rap on a search-and-seizure glitch. Avila braced the DA. The DA read his Radin case summary and declined to file. He said the case was weak.

Avila caught some fresh murders. He ran the Radin case by the DAs Office every so often. Nobody wanted to file. Two years and some months passed.

Stoner knew they could break it. They had to make the right people talk.

It was all there.

Radin vanished in a limo. Mentzer and Lowe drove limos part-time. Mentzer worked for Laney Jacobs. Laney hated Roy Radin. Mentzer was an amateur hit man.

Stoner wanted to move. Guenther wanted him to study another case first. The Tracy Lea Stewart job was Guenther’s bête noir. He knew the killers. He wanted to pop the main guy before he retired. He wanted to get Stoner hooked on Tracy.

Stoner read the file. He got hooked instantly.

Tracy Stewart was 18. She lived with her parents and kid brother in Carson. She was quiet and shy and easily frightened.

She disappeared 8/9/81. She met a boy named Bob at Redondo Beach that day. Bob was about 21. He was nice-looking. He asked Tracy out. Tracy told him to call her.

Bob called at 6:00 p.m. He suggested a drive and a few games of pool at a nice bowling alley. Tracy said sure. Bob said he’d be right over. Tracy told her mother she was going out on a date. Her mother told her to call home at least once.

Bob picked Tracy up. Tracy called her mother one hour later. She called from a bowling alley in Palos Verdes. She said she’d be home by midnight or 1:00 a.m.

She didn’t come home. Her parents waited up. They called the Carson Sheriff’s Station in the morning.

A deputy went by the bowling alley. He talked to some people on duty last night. They recalled Tracy and Bob. They didn’t know who Bob was.

The case was bounced to Sheriff’s Missing Persons. Sergeant Cissy Kienest talked to Tracy’s friends and dozens of beach habitues. Nobody knew Bob. Nobody saw Tracy or Bob the night of 8/9/81.

Tracy’s parents distributed flyers and ran newspaper ads. Tracy remained missing. The case lay dormant for four years.

A man named Robbie Beckett assaulted his girlfriend in 1985. He was arrested in Aspen, Colorado. He was sentenced to two years in the Colorado State Penitentiary. Sergeant Gary White handled the case for the Aspen PD.

White and Beckett had a cordial relationship. Robbie told White he wanted to buy some time off his sentence. He knew about a murder in L.A. The date was August ’81. The victim was a girl he picked up. Her first name or middle name was Lee. He forgot her last name.

White said he couldn’t promise any deals. Robbie laid out his story anyway.

His father was named Bob Beckett Sr. He used to live with him in Torrance—down by Redondo Beach and Palos Verdes. His father was an artist. He ran a rinky-dink art school and made extra cash as a strongarm enforcer. He collected money for some mob-connected guys in San Pedro. His father was 6′4″, 270. His father knew karate. His father was in the Society for Creative Anachronisms—this group where people acted out this weird medieval shit. His father hung out with a faggy guy named Paul Serio. Paul Serio was a big shot in that weird society. His father was 45 years old now. His father was a baaad son-of-a-bitch.

His father had a girlfriend named Sharon Hatch. She broke off their relationship in May ’81. Bob Beckett Sr. went crazy. He stalked Sharon and threatened her. He told Robbie to round up some bikers to gang-rape her.

Robbie loved and feared his dad. Robbie hated to see him hurt and angry. He rounded up some guys to rape Sharon. He called it off at the last moment. Robbie liked Sharon. He didn’t want to hurt her. He figured his dad would outgrow this whole vengeance thing.

Bob Beckett Sr. stayed hurt and angry. He dropped his Sharon fixation and developed a new one. He told Robbie to find him a young girl. He could rough up the girl and get back at Sharon that way.

Robbie stalled him. He figured his father would outgrow the young-girl fixation. Bob Beckett Sr. persisted. Robbie gave in.

He met that girl Lee at the beach. He got her number. He called her and asked her out. He took her to a bowling alley and shot some pool with her. They necked and drank some beer. He told her he had to stop someplace before he took her home.

The girl said okay. Robbie took her to his father’s apartment. The lights were off. Bob Beckett Sr. was waiting in the bedroom. Robbie left the girl in the living room and walked in. His father said, “Did you bring me something?” Robbie delivered the girl.

Bob Beckett Sr. pawed her and raped her. Robbie got blind drunk in the living room. Bob Beckett Sr. spent two or three hours alone with the girl.

He told her he’d drive her home. He told her to take a shower first. He locked her in the bathroom. He told Robbie they had to kill her.

Robbie didn’t want to kill her. Bob Beckett Sr. grabbed a homemade sap and insisted. Robbie gave in.

Bob Beckett Sr. unlocked the bathroom and told the girl to get dressed. She did it. Robbie and Bob Beckett Sr. walked her down to their van. It was 2:00 or 2:30 a.m.

Robbie swung the sap. It caught on a tree branch. The blow stunned the girl and ripped her face. Robbie couldn’t dredge up the guts to hit her again.

Bob Beckett Sr. hit her and threw her in the back of the van. He got in and pinned her down with his knees. He strangled her bare-handed and wrapped a plastic garbage bag over her head.

They drove the body south on the 405 freeway. They took some weird roads out to the boonies. They dumped the girl in some bushes near a fence.

They drove home and sweated out exposure. The papers ran some missing-girl stories. Bob Beckett Sr. told Robbie to gut the van. Robbie replaced the paneling and bought a new set of tires. No cops came around. Robbie figured coyotes ate the body.

Robbie lived scared for a while. He moved out of his father’s apartment and moved in with his mother. Bob Beckett Sr. gave the van to Robbie’s brother David. Time dragged by. Bob Beckett Sr. married a woman named Cathy. Cathy had two daughters. Bob Beckett Sr. started molesting her 12-year-old.

Robbie told a few friends what happened. They thought he was bullshitting. Robbie was a boozer and a brawler and a sometime fruit hustler. His friends didn’t feature him as a murder-victim procurer.

Bob Beckett Sr. moved to Aspen. He got a job with his old karate buddy Paul Hamway. Robbie moved to Aspen and settled in near his father.

Gary White bought most of the story. Robbie threw in a little teaser. He said his father did a contract hit in Florida. He knew the details—but refused to divulge them.

Gary White called Sheriff’s Homicide. He ran Robbie’s story by Charlie Guenther.

Guenther consulted the Missing Persons Unit. Cissy Kienest said “Lee” might be Tracy Lea Stewart. Guenther sent a Tracy Stewart photo to Aspen. Gary White placed it in with a dozen shots of other young women. He showed them to Robbie Beckett. Robbie pointed to Tracy.

White called Charlie Guenther and told him he hit paydirt. Guenther and Cissy Kienest flew to Aspen.

Bob Beckett Sr. visited Robbie in prison. Robbie told him he snitched him off for the dead girl. Bob Beckett Sr. convinced him to retract his story. He laid on threats and recriminations and stressed plain old father-son loyalty. Robbie kowtowed to his dad like he always did.

Charlie Guenther and Cissy Kienest tried to interview Robbie. Robbie pissed backwards. He said the story he told White was bullshit. He wouldn’t issue a formal statement confirming it. He wouldn’t testify against his father.

Robbie wouldn’t budge. They couldn’t arrest him or Bob Beckett Sr. without a sworn statement and some kind of formal arrangement with the L.A. DA’s Office.

White laid a side trip on Guenther. Daddy Beckett’s stepdaughter just accused him of fondling her. She told a social services counselor. It wasn’t a criminal matter yet.

Guenther decided to fuck with Bob Beckett Sr. He found him and goosed him with his stepdaughter’s story. Beckett flexed his muscles and stayed frosty. Guenther wanted to rumble. Bob Beckett Sr. probably sensed it.

That was 18 months ago.

Stoner read the Stewart file a half-dozen times. The case was as workable as the Cotton Club job. They knew who killed Tracy. They knew who killed Roy Radin. They couldn’t do a fucking thing about it right now.

Charlie got him hooked on Tracy Stewart. Bob Grimm got him hooked on The Cotton Club. He had a brilliant partner. Two cases constituted a manageable few.

They had to make some people talk.

They knew ex-wives were good talkers. They knew Bill Mentzer had an ex-wife named Deedee Mentzer Santangelo. Her father was a heavyweight Teamster. They contacted him. They told him they were checking out Deedee’s lowlife ex.

The old man hated Mentzer. He called Deedee and told her to cooperate. Stoner and Guenther met with her. She examined the photo that Carlos Avila found. She ID’d the two men standing with Mentzer.

One man was named Alex Marti. He was from Argentina. He was a scary, violent guy. Deedee saw him provoke a couple of fights. She was afraid of him.

The other man was an ex-cop named Bill Rider. He used to be tight with Larry Flynt, the porno king. He was married to Flynt’s sister. He used to be Flynt’s security boss. Rider was back in Ohio now. He was engaged in litigation against Flynt.

Stoner got Rider’s number and called him. He told Rider he needed to know the exact spot where that photo was taken. It pertained to an active homicide investigation. Rider said he’d think about it and call Stoner back.

He called back the next day. He was pissed. He’d talked to Deedee Mentzer Santangelo. He knew the cops were after Bill Mentzer. Stoner should have leveled with him.

Stoner acted apologetic. Rider said he’d fly out if the Sheriff’s Department paid for his airfare and lodging. Bob Grimm okayed the expenditure. Rider flew out and talked to Stoner and Guenther. He dropped little tidbits on the Mincher killing and the Radin job straight off.

He took Stoner and Guenther out to Caswell Canyon. He said Mentzer and Marti bragged about the Radin hit. Bob Lowe did the job with them. Marti was a psycho punk with Nazi tendencies. He was selling dope out of a pad in Beverly Hills now.

Rider shot his mouth off and started acting regretful. He said he was afraid of Mentzer and Marti. He had a family. Mentzer and Marti knew it. Stoner said he could supply protection. Stoner told Rider the catch.

Rider had to make Mentzer and Lowe talk. They had to talk in a closed-in, buggable venue. Rider said he’d go home and think about it.

Gary White called Charlie Guenther and broke some good news.

Robbie Beckett got out of prison. He got popped for another assault and was looking at a solid dime. Robbie called White. Robbie said he’d make a formal signed statement. Robbie made that statement. Robbie gave up Daddy Beckett for Tracy Stewart and a lot more.

Robbie Beckett was suicidally talkative. He laid himself out as his father’s full-time slave and onetime murder accomplice. The best deal he could get for handing up Bob Beckett Sr. was murder two and 20 to life. His second assault conviction would have cost him five years net. Robbie torched his whole life to fuck Daddy Beckett.

Robbie put his story in writing. He tacked on the story of Bob Beckett Sr. and the Susan Hamway hit.

Bob Beckett Sr. worked for Paul Hamway. Susan Hamway was Paul’s estranged wife. Paul and Susan were fighting a divorce war. Susan was living in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. She had custody of their 18-month-old daughter.

Paul hated Susan. He asked Bob Beckett Sr. if he knew any professional killers. Bob Beckett Sr. said he’d set it up for $10,000.

Paul Hamway told him to do it. He added one stipulation. Somebody should call him after the hit. He’d concoct a way to rescue his baby daughter then.

Bob Beckett Sr. called Paul Serio and arranged a rendezvous in Miami. Serio flew out. Bob Beckett Sr. met him. He brought a knife, a gun and a dildo. They rented a car and drove to Susan Hamway’s house.

They knocked on the door. Susan opened up. She recognized her husband’s friend Bob Beckett Sr.

Susan let the men in. Her baby was asleep in the bedroom.

Bob Beckett Sr. hit her in the head with his gun. Paul Serio strangled her with a telephone cord. Bob Beckett Sr. stabbed her in the back with a kitchen knife. Serio helped him remove her clothes and pull down her panties. They couldn’t get up the nerve to stick the dildo in her vagina.

The baby slept through the murder. Paul Serio and Bob Beckett Sr. left the house in broad daylight.

They drove to a causeway near Miami Beach. They tossed their weapons in. Bob Beckett Sr. called Paul Hamway and told him his ex was dead. He said he made it look like a random sex killing.

Hamway was supposed to call one of Susan’s neighbors and express concern for Susan’s whereabouts. The neighbor would find the body. The neighbor would give him an alibi and rescue his daughter.

Serio flew back to L.A. Bob Beckett Sr. flew back to Aspen. Nobody rescued the baby.

The baby starved to death. She pulled big tufts of her hair out before she expired. The Fort Lauderdale PD investigated the Hamway murder. They hung the rap on a retarded man who lived nearby.

His name was John Purvis. He was tried, convicted and sentenced to life in prison. His sentence carried a strict no-parole clause.

Stoner and Guenther flew to Aspen. Robbie Beckett’s lawyer wouldn’t let them interview Robbie. He wanted a written deal with the L.A. DA first. Stoner called Deputy DA Dale Davidson. Davidson contacted Robbie’s lawyer and offered him murder two—if Robbie testified against Bob Beckett Sr. The lawyer accepted the deal. He told Robbie not to waive extradition just yet. He told him to get a good L.A. lawyer. Robbie said he’d sit tight and await instructions.

Stoner and Guenther flew to Miami. They looked for Laney Jacobs and came up empty. They drove to Fort Lauderdale and researched the Susan Hamway case.

The prosecutor was a judge now. He admitted the case against John Purvis was shaky. Stoner and Guenther told him Robbie Beckett’s story. The judge said he’d look into it. Stoner and Guenther flew back to L.A.

A Fort Lauderdale detective called Stoner. He gave him some details on the Hamway investigation. Stoner caught the gist: The cops wheedled a bogus confession out of a mentally deficient suspect.

Stoner ran down Robbie Beckett’s version. The detective acted shocked. He said he’d talk to Robbie—after he testified against his father.

Stoner and Guenther talked to Daddy Beckett’s ex-wife and daughter Debbie. The ex said Daddy was bugging David Beckett. He wanted him to dump that van he gave him. She said David refused.

Debbie Beckett was dying of AIDS. She said her father used to molest her. She said he beat up David and Robbie regularly. She said he ruled by terror.

The van was crucial. Stoner and Guenther found David Beckett and sweet-talked him. His father told him to burn the van. David said no. Stoner and Guenther impounded the van. A lab team went through it. They found no hair, blood or fibers attributable to Tracy Lea Stewart.

Stoner and Guenther interviewed Mark Fogel. He fingered Laney Jacobs as a major coke dealer and played dumb on the Roy Radin murder. Stoner and Guenther drove to Taft, California. They told Tracy Stewart’s parents that their daughter was dead.

They took it hard. They wanted details. Stoner and Guenther supplied them. Mrs. Stewart said she renewed Tracy’s driver’s license every year. Stoner said they’d try to recover her body.

Both their cases were in limbo. The Radin reinvestigation was almost a year old. They were waiting for Bill Rider to help them entrap their suspects. They were waiting for Robbie Beckett to waive extradition.

Stoner and Guenther located Laney Jacobs. She was married to a dope dealer named Larry Greenberger. They were living in Okeechobee, Florida. Stoner and Guenther decided to let Laney sit.

They located a string of her dope associates. Most of the people talked. They said Laney was vain, shallow, greedy, ruthless and conniving. She was Florida Panhandle trash. She was cheap ambition personified. She started out as a dope lawyer’s secretary. She met dope dealers, fucked them and learned the trade. She was a plastic-surgery freak. She’d had her face and most of her body altered to strict specifications.

She buzzed around in Stoner’s head. She joined Bunny Krauch and Tracy Stewart.

Bunny tried to live two lives a mile apart. Her tyrant husband drove her toward an unknown killer. Tracy was the quintessential female murder victim. She was killed for sex and quick disposability. Laney was lower than snakeshit. She killed a man for money and a two-second movie credit.

Robbie Beckett waived extradition. Gary White flew him out to L.A. Stoner and Guenther met the plane. They told Robbie they wanted to find Tracy’s body. Robbie studied maps of Riverside and San Diego Counties. He pinpointed a few locations.

Stoner and Guenther drove him around for 14 hours. Robbie checked out various landscapes and said he couldn’t be sure. They didn’t spot any shredded clothes or human remains. Stoner and Guenther drove Robbie to the Main County Jail and processed him in.

Robbie talked to his public defender. The PD conferred with Dale Davidson. They cut a formal deal. Stoner and Guenther were free to bust Bob Beckett Sr.

Gary White ran a public-utilities check and found him. He was living in Tustin with his new wife. Tustin was Orange County. Stoner called the Tustin PD and arranged for three backup patrol units.

The bust was a nonevent.

Stoner and Carlos Avila knocked on the door. They asked Frau Beckett where Bob Beckett Sr. was. Bob Beckett Sr. walked out and placed his hands in handcuff position.

Stoner and Avila drove him to the Main County Jail. Charlie Guenther was ecstatic. He was set to retire soon. They nailed Daddy Beckett on the home stretch.

The Stewart case was closed. The Cotton Club case was in limbo. The reinvestigation was 14 months old.

Bill Rider called Stoner. He said he was living in San Pedro. He wanted to help Sheriffs Homicide. He wanted to spend time with Stoner and Guenther to see if he could trust them.

The process took three months. Stoner and Guenther met Rider two dozen times. Rider fed them tidbits on Mentzer and Marti. It was good background stuff. It wasn’t crucial information.

Rider said he had the gun that killed June Mincher. He lent it to Mentzer and got it back a few days later. He did not know it would serve as a murder weapon.

He let Stoner and Guenther borrow the gun. They took it to the crime lab and had it test-fired. They compared the rounds to the rounds from the Mincher killing. They matched perfectly.

Charlie Guenther retired. Carlos Avila replaced him. Stoner and Avila went to Bob Grimm and explained the Rider deal.

Rider was a “security consultant.” He had to earn a living. He had to stay out of sight to avoid reprisals from Mentzer and Alex Marti. Rider was essential to the case. He deserved a monthly paycheck.

Grimm talked to Sheriff Block. Block okayed $3,000 a month. Rider took the money. He agreed to formally snitch off the Cotton Club killers. The next step was entrapment.

Rider called Bob Lowe in Maryland. He was working a bartender gig there. Rider dropped some obfuscation on Lowe. He said he was coming to Washington to do a surveillance job. He needed a backup man. Lowe said he’d love to help.

Stoner, Avila and Rider flew to Maryland. The Maryland State Police bugged Rider’s car and hotel room. Rider called Lowe to set up the surveillance job. Lowe said he was busy and recommended his pal Bob Deremer. Stoner and Avila hit the roof. Rider said they should tape Deremer anyway. He used to bunk with Bill Mentzer. They were tight throughout the Cotton Club/June Mincher time frame. Deremer might spill some good shit.

Rider faked two surveillance jobs with Deremer. The State Police taped one car and one hotel-room surveillance. Deremer said Mentzer did the Radin hit. Bob Lowe was part of the team. He got paid 17 grand and a Cadillac.

Deremer said he drove Mentzer around after the Mincher hit. Rider asked him how much Mentzer paid him. Deremer said three months’ free rent.

Rider braced Bob Lowe at a bar. He was wearing a fall-body wire. Lowe said he drove for Mentzer twice. He saw Mentzer clip the fat nigger woman. They shot Radin with .22 hollow points. Exploded .22s looked like shotgun pellets. They tossed the guns in a lake near Miami—3,000 miles from Caswell Canyon.

Stoner and Avila flew back to L.A. They had to let things sit for a while. They couldn’t bulldoze Rider through a fast bug string. He had to connect with their suspects at a relaxed and believable pace.

Months dragged by. John Purvis was still in prison. Robbie Beckett and Daddy Beckett were engaged in pretrial motions. The Fort Lauderdale cops were waiting for Robbie to testify. Convincing testimony would exonerate John Purvis. They could go after Daddy Beckett and Paul Serio then. They could nail them for Susan Hamway.

Robbie Beckett and Daddy Beckett were housed in different jails. They met during a botched court transfer. Daddy talked to Robbie. He convinced him to retract his sworn statement. Robbie called Dale Davidson and told him the deal was off. He wouldn’t testify against his father. Davidson told Robbie he’d be tried for murder one. Robbie said he didn’t care.

The DA’s Office lost their case against Bob Beckett Sr. They released him from custody.

Stoner and Avila talked to two dozen people close to Mentzer and Jacobs. They stayed away from Mentzer and Jacobs deliberately.

They conducted their interviews. They put the Cotton Club story together from the ground up.

Roy Radin’s father produced schlock stage shows. He died young. Roy took over his operation at age 17. He got rich working his own crass variation of the business.

He put on police and civic benefit shows. They featured washed-up stars like Milton Berle and Joey Bishop. Charity benefits were regulated by strict state laws. Radin broke those laws. He took egregiously large percentage fees and embezzled money earmarked for charity.

Radin weighed 300 pounds. Radin was a cocaine addict. Radin threw wild parties at his Long Island estate. Radin almost got in big trouble circa ’78.

An actress named Melonie Haller stumbled away from a Radin soiree. She was half-nude and bombed out of her gourd. She told the cops that Radin and some other freaks gang-raped her. The cops investigated. They popped Radin on a gun-possession charge. Radin paid a fine and stopped throwing wild parties. He got an itch to crash the movie biz and moved west in ’82.

He met Laney Jacobs at a party. He started buying coke from her. Laney used a limo company partially owned by Bob Evans. She favored a driver named Gary Keys. Keys told Laney that Evans was looking for money. He wanted to make a movie about the Cotton Club—the Harlem nightspot popular in the ’30s. Laney told Keys she had money to invest in the right movie project.

Laney worked for a coke magnate named Milan Bella-chaises. He sent her out to L.A. to distribute his West Coast supply. Her dope runner was a redneck named Tally Rogers. They were selling 30 kilos a month. They were making a half-million-dollar monthly profit.

Laney was a cocaine addict. She wanted to be a movie producer. Gary Keys told Bob Evans she had money to burn.

Laney and Bob got together. They started partying and fucking. Laney rented an apartment in Beverly Hills and turned it into an orgy pad.

Evans told her The Cotton Club was big-budget stuff. He needed 50 million dollars minimum. Laney said she knew a guy named Roy Radin. He had lots of money and wanted to break into movies. Evans told her to set up a meeting. Laney set it up fast.

Radin tumbled. He told Evans he’d sell his house and tap into some filthy-rich investors. Evans promised Laney a $50,000 finder’s fee.

Radin contacted a banker friend down in Puerto Rico. The banker was close to the territorial governor. He got the governor hot for the Cotton Club deal. He hit him up for 50 million dollars in government money. The governor said he’d pop for 35 only. Radin accepted his terms. He flew to New York to discuss the deal with Bob Evans.

They met at Evans’ apartment. Laney showed up. She told Radin she was getting 5% of the Cotton Club profits for putting the deal together. Radin objected to her percentage. Evans sided with Laney. Radin threw a tantrum and stormed out.

Laney flew back to L.A. She got into another ruckus straight off.

Tally Rogers wanted more money. He was driving dope up and down the coast and making relative chump change. Laney refused to up his wages.

Tally’s wife, Betty Lou, showed up. She flew in from Tennessee unannounced. Laney showed her some L.A. hotspots. Tally convinced Laney to take her to Vegas.

Laney and Betty Lou split. Tally raided Laney’s garage. He stole 12 kilos and $250,000 in cash.

The maid called Laney. She said she saw Tally poking around in her garage. Tally called Betty Lou and told her to disappear. Betty Lou caught a cab to the Vegas airport.

Laney flew back to L.A. She called Milan Bellachaises, He told her to get the dope and money back.

Laney knew this guy Bill Mentzer. He’d allegedly do anything for money. Laney called Mentzer and hired him to find Tally Rogers.

Mentzer rounded up Alex Marti and Bob Lowe. They flew to Memphis and kidnapped Tally’s best friend. He showed them Tally’s known haunts. They didn’t spot Tally. They released his friend and flew to Miami. They discussed the Tally problem with Milan Bellachaises. Nobody came up with anything constructive.

Mentzer called Mike Pascal. He gave him the names of Laney’s tight friends and told him to check their toll-call records. They might get a lead on Tally that way.

Pascal called Mentzer back two days later. He knew Mentzer wanted results. He knew Laney hated Roy Radin. He knew Radin parried with Tally Rogers.

Pascal lied to Mentzer. He said Tally called Radin right after he stole the money and dope. Radin was calling the Bahamas a lot. Tally was probably hiding out there.

Mentzer flew back to L.A. Laney was in L.A. Milan Bella-chaises told her to obey Mentzer’s orders. Radin was in L.A. Laney called him. She accused him of stealing her dope and money. She said he was trying to fuck her out of her Cotton Club percentage.

Radin denied the theft. He said he didn’t know where Tally Rogers was. He was telling the truth.

Mentzer told Laney his plan.

She lures Radin into a limousine. Bob Lowe is driving. She tells Lowe to stop for cigarettes. A car is tailing them. Mentzer and Marti jump out and jump in the limo. Laney gets lost. The boys take Radin somewhere and torture the shit out of him. He talks when the pain gets bad.

The Cotton Club story was ridiculous and petty. The killers were clowns. The victim was a greedy piece of shit. The supporting players were parasitic slime.

Stoner kept reaching for Bunny Krauch and Tracy Stewart.

Mentzer and Marti were in L.A. Lowe was in Maryland. Laney was in Okeechobee, Florida, with Larry Greenberger. Stoner and Avila turned up the heat.

Bill Rider called Mentzer and told him he was in L.A. He invited him over to the Holiday Inn. Rider’s room was bugged. Stoner and Avila were stationed next door.

Rider talked up his lawsuit against Larry Flynt. Mentzer talked up the Radin snatch.

Three black & whites pulled up behind the limo. Mentzer thought they were cooked. Marti stuck his gun in Radin’s crotch. Mentzer stuck his gun in Radin’s mouth. The black & whites sped past them—ha, ha, ha!

Mentzer segued to other topics. Stoner and Avila needed more incriminating talk. They had to bug Rider and Mentzer again.

They decided to stage a dope buy. They called in Sheriffs Narco and worked out a plan.

They wired up a room at the Long Beach Holiday Inn. Rider called Mentzer. He said he was making a dope buy and needed a bodyguard. He offered Mentzer $200. Mentzer took the job.

They staged the buy in a parking lot near the hotel. They used real dope. Sheriff’s deputies portrayed coke dealers. Rider brought Mentzer up to his room after the buy. Stoner and Avila were hooked up to headphones next door.

Mentzer ran his mouth nonstop.

He had a load of guns and C-4 explosive stashed in a public storage locker. They shot Roy Radin with soft-point .22s. The stupid cops thought he was shotgunned.

C-4 was pure combustion. Public storage was a public health hazard. Stoner wanted the shit contained. He gave Rider an old safe and told him to call Mentzer. Rider called Mentzer and offered him the safe. Mentzer accepted the gift. Rider and Mentzer hauled the safe to the storage shack and put the guns and C-4 in it. Rider was wearing a body wire.

Mentzer said Larry Greenberger was dead. He shot himself accidentally. It happened in Okeechobee. Mentzer thought the deal was suspicious.

Stoner called the Okeechobee cops. They thought the deal was suspicious. Laney Jacobs was hiding out behind legal counsel. Stoner knew she shot Greenberger.

The Okeechobee cops called Stoner back. They told him Laney Jacobs was running. Stoner started tracking her by her credit card receipts.

It was time to hit hard.

Stoner went to Deputy District Attorney David Conn. He told him the entire story. He played the Rider-Lowe and Rider-Mentzer tapes. Conn gave him the green light.

Charges were filed. Warrants were secured. Stoner cooked up a plan with the Okeechobee cops.

They said they’d help him pin down Laney Jacobs. They’d call her lawyer and set up a meet and promise not to bust her for Larry Greenberger’s death. They’d say they just wanted to question her. They’d question her and bust her on a California warrant abstract. They’d hold her for the L.A. County Sheriff’s.

It was a great fucking plan.

Stoner set up a command post. It was midway between Marti’s house and Mentzer’s apartment. Stoner set up two SWAT teams to hit them.

Carlos Avila flew to Maryland to arrest Bob Lowe. Bob Deremer was on a long-haul truck job. Nobody knew where he was.

10/2/88.

The Okeechobee cops arrest Laney Jacobs. The SWAT teams hit Mentzer and Marti simultaneously.

They cut their phone lines and patch in calls on a closed circuit. They tell Mentzer and Marti to look out the window and see all the cops with guns. Mentzer and Marti look out their windows and walk outside with their hands up.

Search teams are deployed. Dope-and-bomb-sniffing dogs go with them. They rip through Marti’s house and Mentzer’s apartment.

Carlos Avila busts Bob Lowe. Local cops snag Bob Deremer in Lafayette, Indiana.

Deremer waives extradition. He’s transported to L.A. and arraigned on accessory charges. Laney Jacobs and Bob Lowe fight extradition. They remain in custody back east.

Carlos Avila is exhausted. Bill Stoner is exhausted. He’s still hooked on Tracy Lea Stewart. He still has a big hard-on for Bob Beckett Sr.

Laney Jacobs waived extradition at Christmas. She was transported to Los Angeles and held at the Sybil Brand Institute for Women. Robbie Beckett went to trial in February ’89.

The trial lasted a week. The jury was out one hour. Robbie was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. Daddy Beckett was scot-free. John Purvis was still in prison. The Fort Lauderdale cops gave up on the Hamway case.

Fuck John Purvis. He was already convicted. They had no case against Daddy Beckett, Paul Serio and Paul Hamway. They needed Robbie Beckett. Robbie would not betray his father.

It took three years to adjudicate the Cotton Club case. Prelims, motion hearings and the jury-selection process ate up months. The trial lasted fourteen months. The penalty phase dragged on. Carlos Avila retired. Bill Stoner worked for the prosecution team fall-time. He flew around the country. He interviewed a hundred witnesses. He logged in thousands of airplane miles and thousands of freeway miles. The Cotton Club case consumed four and a half years of his life.

The jury came back on 7/22/91. Mentzer, Marti, Lowe and Jacobs were found guilty. They all got life with no shot at parole. Stoner still didn’t know exactly why they killed Roy Radin.

Mentzer said their torture plans went screwy. Marti goaded Radin in the limo. Marti kept calling him a fat Jew. Marti shot him the moment they hit Caswell Canyon.

Marti told a different story. So did Lowe. Stoner was way past caring.

A Fort Lauderdale cop called Stoner in January ’93. He said John Purvis’s mother just hired a lawyer. The lawyer was going on some nighttime TV show. He intended to start a big ruckus. The Fort Lauderdale PD was reopening the Hamway case.

Stoner wished him well. The Fort Lauderdale cops reopened the case and mishandled it again.

They misidentified Paul Serio. They confused Daddy Beckett’s pal with a Vegas hit man of the same name. They figured the Vegas guy and Paul Hamway set the Susan hit up. They offered Daddy Beckett full immunity if he testified against them. Daddy Beckett accepted the deal and testified before a Florida grand jury. The grand jury handed down indictments against Paul Hamway and Paul Serio. Daddy Beckett told the cops that his Paul was not a Vegas hit man. His Paul was a schoolteacher currently living in Texas.

John Purvis was released from prison. The Fort Lauderdale cops popped the real Paul Serio. Serio contradicted Daddy Beckett’s account of the Hamway snuff and laid all the guilt on Daddy. Serio’s account was worthless. Daddy Beckett was exempt from prosecution.

John Purvis joined his mother and lawyer on the Phil Donahue show. Donahue screened some lively footage. It was Daddy Beckett’s taped confession to the Fort Lauderdale cops.

There’s Daddy Beckett. He’s showing the cops how he strangled Sue Hamway. There’s Daddy Beckett—exempt from prosecution. Daddy walked on the Stewart caper. Daddy breezed on Sue Hamway and her baby.

Robbie Beckett saw the show in Folsom Prison. He saw Daddy Beckett stage the Hamway snuff with true brio. He saw Daddy’s eyes. He knew he was reliving the moment he killed Tracy.

Robbie called Bill Stoner and told him he wanted to talk. Stoner and Dale Davidson flew up to Folsom. Robbie gave them a formal statement and agreed to testify against his father. He told them he wouldn’t piss backwards this time. Stoner and Davidson believed him.

Davidson drew up a warrant. It charged Robert Wayne Beckett with the murder of Tracy Lea Stewart. Stoner located Daddy Beckett in Las Vegas. He called in a Vegas PD fugitive team and arrested him in his front yard.

Daddy wanted to cut a deal. Stoner told him to get fucked. Daddy saw a judge. The judge said no bail. The L.A. courts were brutally backlogged. The cocksucker wouldn’t get to trial before 1995. Stoner was daydreaming a lot. He was seeing things fast and bright. He was spending lots of time with his dead women.

He was exhausted. He was retiring next month. A funny little thought kept running through his head.

He wasn’t sure he could give up the chase completely.