My Dark Places

1

Some kids found her.

They were Babe Ruth League players, out to hit a few shag balls. Three adult coaches were walking behind them.

The boys saw a shape in the ivy strip just off the curb. The men saw loose pearls on the pavement. A little telepathic jolt went around.

Clyde Warner and Dick Ginnold shooed the kids back a ways—to keep them from looking too close. Kendall Nungesser ran across Tyler and spotted a pay phone by the dairy stand.

He called the Temple City Sheriff’s Office and told the desk sergeant he’d discovered a body. It was right there on that road beside the playing field at Arroyo High School. The sergeant said stay there and don’t touch anything.

The radio call went out: 10:10 a.m., Sunday, 6/22/58. Dead body at King’s Row and Tyler Avenue, El Monte.

A Sheriff’s prowl car made it in under five minutes. An El Monte PD unit arrived a few seconds later.

Deputy Vic Cavallero huddled up the coaches and the kids. Officer Dave Wire checked out the body.

It was a female Caucasian. She was fair-skinned and redheaded. She was approximately 40 years of age. She was lying flat on her back—in an ivy patch a few inches from the King’s Row curb line.

Her right arm was bent upward. Her right hand was resting a few inches above her head. Her left arm was bent at the elbow and draped across her midriff. Her left hand was clenched. Her legs were outstretched.

She was wearing a scoop-front, sleeveless, light and dark blue dress. A dark blue overcoat with a matching lining was spread over her lower body.

Her feet and ankles were visible. Her right foot was bare. A nylon stocking was bunched up around her left ankle.

Her dress was disheveled. Insect bites covered her arms. Her face was bruised and her tongue was protruding. Her brassiere was unfastened and hiked above her breasts. A nylon stocking and a cotton cord were lashed around her neck. Both ligatures were tightly knotted.

Dave Wire radioed the El Monte PD dispatcher. Vic Cavallero called the Temple office. The body-dump alert went out:

Get the L.A. County Coroner. Get the Sheriff’s Crime Lab and the photo car. Call the Sheriff’s Homicide Bureau and tell them to send a team out.

Cavallero stood by the body. Dave Wire ran over to the dairy and commandeered a length of rope. Cavallero helped him string up a crime scene perimeter.

They discussed the odd position of the body. It looked haphazard and fastidious.

Spectators drifted by. Cavallero pushed them back to the Tyler Avenue sidewalk. Wire noticed some pearls on the road and circled each and every one in chalk.

Official cars pulled up to the cordon. Uniformed cops and plainclothesmen ducked under the rope.

From El Monte PD: Chief Orval Davis, Captain Jim Bruton, Sergeant Virg Ervin. Captain Dick Brooks, Lieutenant Don Mead and Sergeant Don Clapp from Temple Sheriff’s. Temple deputies called out to contain the civilians and plain curious on- and off-duty cops.

Dave Wire measured the exact position of the body: 63 feet west of the first locked gate on the school grounds/2 feet south of the King’s Row curb. The photo deputy arrived and snapped perspective shots of King’s Row and the Arroyo High playing field.

It was noon—and closing in on 90 degrees.

The photo deputy shot the body from straight-down and sideways angles. ’Vic Cavallero assured him that the guys who found it did not touch it. Sergeants Ward Hallinen and Jack Lawton arrived and went straight to Chief Davis.

Davis told them to take charge—per the contract mandating all El Monte city murders to the L.A. Sheriff’s Homicide Bureau.

Hallinen walked over to the body. Lawton diagrammed the area in his notebook.

Tyler Avenue ran north-south. King’s Row intersected it at the southern edge of the school property. King’s Row ran east about 175 yards. It terminated at Cedar Avenue—the eastern edge of the school property. It was nothing more than a paved access road.

A gate closed off the Cedar Avenue end. An inner gate sealed some bungalows near the main Arroyo High buildings. The only way to enter King’s Row was via Tyler Avenue.

King’s Row was 15 feet wide. The sports field ran along the northern edge. A shrub-covered chain-link fence ran behind the southern curb line and a 3-foot-wide ivy thicket. The body was positioned 75 yards east of the Tyler-King’s Row intersection.

The victim’s left foot was two inches from the curb. Her weight had pressed down the ivy all around her.

Lawton and Hallinen stared at the body. Rigor mortis was setting in—the victim’s clenched hand had gone rigid.

Hallinen noted a fake-pearl ring on the third finger. Lawton said it might help them ID her.

Her face had gone slightly purple. She looked like a classic late-night body dump.

Vic Cavallero told the coaches and baseball kids to go home. Dave Wire and Virg Ervin mingled with the civilians. Sergeant Harry Andre showed up—an off-duty Sheriff’s Homicide man hot to lend a hand.

The press showed up. Some Temple deputies cruised by to check out the scene. Half the 26-man El Monte PD cruised by—dead white women were some kind of draw.

The coroner’s deputy showed up. The photo deputy told him he could examine the victim.

Hallinen and Lawton pushed forward to watch. The coroner’s deputy lifted the coat off the victim’s lower body.

She was not wearing a slip, a girdle or panties. Her dress was pushed up above her hips. No panties and no shoes. That one stocking down around her left ankle. Bruises and small lacerations on the insides of her thighs. An asphalt drag mark on her left hip.

The coroner’s deputy turned the body over. The photo deputy snapped some shots of the victim’s posterior. The victim’s back was dew-wet and showed signs of postmortem lividity.

The coroner’s deputy said she was probably dead eight to twelve hours. She was dumped before sunrise—the dew on her back was a plain indicator.

The photo deputy took some more pictures. The coroner’s deputy and his assistant picked up the body. It was limp—still shy of full rigor mortis. They carried the victim to their van and placed her on a gurney.

Hallinen and Lawton searched the ivy thicket and the adjoining curbside.

They found a broken car antenna on the road. They found a broken string of pearls in the flattened ivy near the dump position. They picked up the pearls circled in chalk and strung them on the necklace. They saw that they had a complete set.

The clasp was intact. The string was broken in the middle. They evidence-bagged both pieces of the necklace.

They did not find the victim’s panties, shoes or purse. They did not spot tire marks in the gravel near the curb. There were no drag marks on any surface along King’s Row. The ivy surrounding the dump position did not look trampled.

It was 1:20 p.m. The temperature was up in the mid-9os.

The coroner’s deputy cut off samples of the victim’s head and pubic hair. He trimmed the victim’s fingernails and placed the cuttings in a small envelope.

He had the body stripped and positioned face-up on his gurney.

There was a small amount of dried blood on the victim’s right palm. There was a small laceration near the center of the victim’s forehead.

The victim’s right nipple was missing. The surrounding areola was creased with white scar tissue. It appeared to be an old surgical amputation.

Hallinen removed the victim’s ring. The coroner’s deputy measured the body at 66 inches and guessed the weight at 135 pounds. Lawton left to call the stats in to Headquarters Dispatch and the Sheriff’s Missing Persons Squad.

The coroner’s deputy took a scalpel and made a deep 6-inch-long incision in the victim’s abdomen. He parted the flaps with his fingers, jabbed a meat thermometer into the liver and got a reading of 90 degrees. He called the time of death as 3:00 to 5:00 a.m.

Hallinen examined the ligatures. The stocking and cotton cord were separately lashed around the victim’s neck. The cord resembled a clothesline or Venetian blind sash-pull.

The cord knot was tied at the back of the victim’s neck. The killer tied it so tight that one of the ends broke off—fraying and the odd lengths of the knot ends proved that fact conclusively.

The stocking around the victim’s neck was identical to the stocking bunched around her left ankle.

The coroner’s deputy locked up his van and drove the body to the L.A. County Morgue. Jack Lawton put out a police band broadcast:

All San Gabriel Valley units be alert for suspicious males with fresh cuts and scratches.

Ward Hallinen rounded up some radio reporters. He told them to put it on the local air:

Dead white woman found. Forty/red hair/hazel eyes/5′6″/135. Direct potential informants to the El Monte PD and Temple City Sheriffs Office—

Chief Davis and Captain Bruton drove to El Monte PD Headquarters. Three ranking Sheriff’s Homicide men joined them: Inspector R. J. Parsonson, Captain Al Etzel, Lieutenant Charles McGowan.

They settled in for a skull session. Bruton called the Baldwin Park PD, Pasadena PD, San Dimas Sheriff’s Office, Covina and West Covina PDs. He ran their victim’s stats by them and got identical responses: She doesn’t match any of our short-term missing females.

Uniformed deputies and El Monte cops grid-searched the Arroyo High grounds. Hallinen, Lawton and Andre canvassed the immediate neighborhood.

They talked to people out walking and people sunning in their yards. They talked to a long string of customers at the dairy stand. They described their victim and got down-the-line responses: I don’t know who you’re talking about.

The area was residential and semi-rural—small houses interspersed with vacant lots and blocks of undeveloped ranch-land. Hallinen, Lawton and Andre wrote it off as futile canvassing turf.

They drove south to the main El Monte throughways: Ramona, Garvey, Valley Boulevard. They swept a string of cafes and a few cocktail bars. They talked up the redhead and got a run of negative responses.

The initial canvass was tapped out.

The grid search was tapped out.

No patrol units were reporting suspicious males with cuts and scratches.

A call came in to the El Monte PD. The caller said she just heard a radio bulletin. That lady they found at the school sounded just like her tenant.

The switchboard operator radioed Virg Ervin: See the woman at 700 Bryant Road.

The address was El Monte—about a mile southeast of Arroyo High School. Ervin drove there and knocked on the door.

A woman opened up. She identified herself as Anna May Krycki and stated that the dead woman sounded like her tenant, Jean Ellroy. Jean left her little house on the Krycki property last night around 8:00. She stayed out all night—and still hadn’t returned.

Ervin described the victim’s overcoat and dress. Anna May Krycki said they sounded just like Jean’s favorite outfit. Ervin described the scarring on the victim’s right nipple. Anna May Krycki said Jean showed her that scar.

Ervin went back to his car and radioed the information to the El Monte switchboard. The dispatcher sent a patrol car out to find Jack Lawton and Ward Hallinen.

The car found them inside of ten minutes. They drove straight to the Krycki house.

Hallinen pulled out the victim’s ring straight off. Anna May Krycki ID’d it as Jean Ellroy’s.

Lawton and Hallinen sat her down and questioned her. Anna May Krycki said she was Mrs. Krycki. Her husband’s name was George, and she had a 12-year-old son from a previous marriage named Gaylord. Jean Ellroy was technically Mrs. Jean Ellroy, but she’d been divorced from her husband for several years. Jean’s full first name was Geneva. Her middle name was Odelia and her maiden name was Hilliker. Jean was a registered nurse. She worked at an aircraft-parts plant in downtown L.A. She and her 10-year-old son lived in the little stone bungalow in the Kryckis’ backyard. Jean drove a red-and-white ’57 Buick. Her son was spending the weekend with his father in L.A. and should be home in a few hours.

Mrs. Krycki showed them a photograph of Jean Ellroy. The face matched their victim’s.

Mrs. Krycki said she saw Jean leave her bungalow last night around 8:00. She was alone. She drove off in her car and did not return. Her car was not in her driveway or her garage.

Mrs. Krycki stated that the victim and her son moved into the bungalow four months ago. She stated that the boy spent weekdays with his mother and weekends with his father. Jean was originally from a little town in Wisconsin. She was a hardworking, quiet woman who kept to herself. She was 37 years old.

The boy’s father picked him up in a taxicab yesterday morning. She saw Jean doing yard work yesterday afternoon. They talked briefly—but Jean did not discuss her Saturday-night plans.

Virg Ervin brought up the victim’s car. Where did she get it serviced?

Mrs. Krycki told him to try the local Union 76 station. Ervin got the number from Information, called the station and talked to the proprietor. The man checked his records and came back on the line with a plate number: California / KFE 778.

Ervin called the number in to the El Monte PD switchboard. The switchboard shot it out to all Sheriff’s and local PD units.

The interview continued. Hallinen and Lawton pressed one topic: the victim and her relationships with men.

Mrs. Krycki said that Jean had a limited social life. She seemed to have no boyfriends. She went out by herself sometimes—and usually came home early. She was not much of a drinker. She often said she wanted to set a good example for her son.

George Krycki walked in. Hallinen and Lawton asked him about his Saturday-night activities.

He told them Anna May went to a movie around 9:00. He stayed home and watched a fight card on TV. He saw the victim drive off between 8:00 and 8:30 p.m. and did not see or hear her return home.

Ervin asked the Kryckis to accompany him to the L.A. County Morgue. They had to log a positive ID on the body.

Hallinen called the Sheriff’s Crime Lab and told them to roll a print deputy out to 700 Bryant, El Monte—the small house behind the larger house.

Virg Ervin drove the Kryckis to the L.A. Hall of Justice—a twelve-mile shot up the San Bernardino Freeway. The Coroner’s Office and the morgue were in the basement below the Sheriff’s Homicide Bureau.

The victim was stored on a slab in a refrigerated vault. The Kryckis viewed her separately. They both identified her as Jean Ellroy.

Ervin took a formal statement and drove the Kryckis back to El Monte.

The print deputy met Hallinen and Lawton outside the Ellroy bungalow. It was 4:30 p.m. and still hot and humid.

The bungalow was small and built of maroon-colored wood and river rock. It stood behind the Krycki house, at the far end of a shared backyard. The yard featured shade palms and tall banana plants, with a rock-and-mortar pond as a centerpiece. The two houses were situated at the southeast corner of Maple and Bryant. The Ellroy place had a Maple Avenue address.

The front door faced the pond and the Kryckis’ back door. It was constructed of louvered glass affixed to wood framing. A pane near the keyhole was missing. The door could not be locked from the inside or outside.

Hallinen, Lawton and the print deputy entered the house. The interior was cramped: two tiny bedrooms off a narrow living room; a stand-up kitchen, breakfast nook and bathroom.

The place was neat and orderly. Nothing looked disturbed. The victim’s bed and her son’s bed had not been slept in.

They found a glass in the kitchen, partially filled with wine. They checked the drawers in the victim’s bedroom and found some personal papers. They learned that the victim worked at Airtek Dynamics—2222 South Figueroa, L.A.

They learned that the victim’s ex-husband was named Armand Ellroy. He lived at 4980 Beverly Boulevard, L.A. His phone number was Hollywood 3-8700.

They saw that the victim did not have a telephone herself.

The print deputy dusted the wineglass and several other print-sustaining surfaces. He came up with no viable latent fingerprints.

Hallinen walked over to the Kryckis’ house and called the ex-husband’s number. He let it ring a good long time and got no answer.

Virg Ervin walked in. He said, Dave Wire found the victim’s car—parked behind a bar on Valley Boulevard.

The bar was called the Desert Inn. It was located at 11721 Valley—two miles from the dump site and a mile from the victim’s house. It was a flat one-story building with a red clay-shingle roof and front window awnings.

The rear lot extended back to a line of cheap stucco bungalows. A grass strip covered with sycamore trees divided four parking space rows. Low chain-links closed the lot in sideways.

A red-and-white Buick was parked by the west-side fence. Dave Wire was standing beside it. Jim Bruton and Harry Andre were standing by a Sheriff’s prowl unit.

Al Etzel was there. Blackie McGowan was there.

Hallinen and Lawton pulled into the lot. Virg Ervin and the print deputy pulled up in separate cars.

Dave Wire walked over and laid it all out.

He caught the license plate call and started checking side streets and parking lots. He found the victim’s car at 3:35 p.m. It was unlocked and appeared to be unransacked. He checked the front and back seats and did not find car keys or the victim’s purse, undergarments and shoes. He did find a half-dozen empty beer cans. They were wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string.

Hallinen and Lawton examined the car. It looked pristine inside and out. The print deputy photographed the interior and exterior and dusted the doors and dashboard. He came up with no viable latent fingerprints.

A Temple deputy arrived. He impounded the Buick and drove it to a nearby Ford dealership for safekeeping.

Some civilians were lounging on the grass strip. Wire pointed out Roy Dunn and Al Manganiello—two Desert Inn bartenders.

Andre and Hallinen talked to them. Dunn said he worked last night; Manganiello said he only worked days. Hallinen showed them Mrs. Krycki’s snapshot of the victim. Both men said they’d never seen the woman before.

They never saw the red-and-white Buick before. Dunn was on duty last night—but he was buried behind the service bar and didn’t see any customers come and go. They both figured the Buick had been parked in the lot all day—maybe even overnight.

Andre asked them who else was working last night. Dunn said, Talk to Ellis Outlaw, the manager.

Hallinen and Andre walked inside. Captain Etzel and Lieutenant McGowan tagged along.

The Desert Inn was narrow and L-shaped. Leatherette booths lined the walls. A sit-down bar faced three rows of tables and the front door; the service bar and kitchen stood directly behind it. A dance floor and raised bandstand formed the short part of the L.

Andre and Hallinen braced Ellis Outlaw and showed him their photo of the victim. Outlaw said he’d never seen her—or that ’57 Buick out back. He wasn’t working last night, but he knew who was.

He gave them some names:

His wife, Alberta “Bert” Outlaw. His sister, Myrtle Mawby. They were both at his place now. Try the Royal Palms Apartments—321 West Mildred Avenue, West Covina. And try Margie Trawick—Gilbert 8-1136. She waitressed at the Desert Inn on and off—and he heard she was in last night.

Hallinen wrote down the information and followed the other cops outside. The parking lot was full of El Monte PD guys keeping up with the action. A second bunch of guys were staked out at Bryant and Maple—waiting for the victim’s ex-husband and kid to show up.

It was 6:30 p.m. and cooling off a little. It was a long early summer day and nowhere near dark.

A string of car radios crackled all at once.

The kid and the ex were back. Separate units were transporting them to the El Monte Station.

The victim’s ex-husband was a week shy of 60 years old. He was tall and athletically built. He seemed to be in control of his emotions.

The victim’s son was pudgy, and tall for 10 years old. He was nervous—but did not appear in any way distraught.

The boy arrived home in a cab, alone. He was informed of his mother’s death and took the news calmly. He told a deputy that his dad was at the El Monte bus depot—waiting for a Freeway Flyer to take him back to L.A.

A patrol car was dispatched to pick up Armand Ellroy. Father and son had not been in contact since their goodbyes at the depot. They were now being held in separate rooms.

Hallinen and Lawton interviewed the ex-husband first. Ellroy stated that he had been divorced from the victim since 1954 and that he was exercising his child visitation rights this weekend. He picked the boy up in a cab at 10:00 a.m. Saturday and did not see his ex-wife. He and his son took a bus to his apartment in Los Angeles. They ate lunch and went to a movie called The Vikings at the Fox-Wilshire Theatre. The show ended at 4:30. They did some grocery shopping and returned home. They ate dinner, watched TV and went to bed between 10:00 and 11:00 p.m.

They slept late this morning. They took a bus downtown and ate lunch at Clifton’s Cafeteria. They spent several hours window-shopping and caught a bus back to El Monte. He put his son in a cab at the depot and sat down to wait for an L.A-bound bus. A cop approached him and told him the news.

Hallinen and Lawton asked Ellroy how he got on with his ex. He told them they met in ’39 and got married in ’40. They got divorced in ’54—things went bad and they came to hate each other. The divorce proceedings were acrimonious and adversarial.

Hallinen and Lawton quizzed Ellroy on his ex-wife’s social life. He told them Jean was a secretive woman who kept things to herself. She lied when it suited her—and she was really 43, not the 37 she claimed. She was promiscuous and an alcoholic. His son found her in bed with strange men on several occasions. Her recent move to El Monte could only be explained as a run from or run to some lowlife she was seeing. Jean was secretive about her private life because she knew he wanted to prove her an unfit mother—and thus gain full-time custody of his son.

Hallinen and Lawton asked Ellroy to name his ex-wife’s specific boyfriends. He told them he only knew one name: Hank Hart, a fat blue-collar type missing one thumb.

Hallinen and Lawton thanked Ellroy for his cooperation and walked to an interview room down the hall. Some off-duty cops were keeping the victim’s kid company.

The boy was bucking up nicely. He was hanging in tough all the way.

Hallinen and Lawton handled him gently. The boy confirmed his father’s account of the weekend down to the smallest detail. He said he only knew the names of two men his mom went out with: Hank Hart and a teacher at his school named Peter Tubiolo.

It was 9:00 p.m. Ward Hallinen gave the boy a candy bar and walked him down the hall to see his father.

Armand Ellroy hugged his son. The kid hugged him back. They both looked relieved and strangely happy.

The boy was released to Armand Ellroy’s custody. A cop drove them to the El Monte bus station. They caught a 9:30 Freeway Flyer back to L.A.

Virg Ervin drove Hallinen and Lawton to the Royal Palms Apartments. They showed their snapshot and ran their standard line of questions by Bert Outlaw and Myrtle Mawby.

Both women recognized the picture. Both women stated that the victim was not a Desert Inn regular—although she was in the place last night. She was sitting with a small-built man with straight black hair and a thin face. They were the last two patrons to leave—at closing time, 2:00 a.m.

Both women stated that they’d never seen the small-built man before.

Myrtle Mawby said they should call Margie Trawick. She was sitting by the bar earlier in the evening and might have something to add. Jack Lawton dialed the number Ellis Outlaw gave them. Margie Trawick picked up.

Lawton ran some preliminary questions by her. Margie Trawick came on strong—she did see an attractive redhead sitting with a group of people last night. Lawton told her to meet him at the El Monte Police Station in half an hour.

Ervin drove Lawton and Hallinen back to the station. Margie Trawick was waiting for them. She came off as high-strung and anxious to help.

Hallinen showed her the Jean Ellroy snapshot. She ID’d it flat out.

Ervin split for the Desert Inn—to show that snapshot around. Hallinen and Lawton got Margie Trawick comfortable and let her talk without interruption.

She said she wasn’t employed by the Desert Inn—but she’d waitressed there sporadically for the past nine years. She recently underwent major surgery and enjoyed going to the place strictly for fun.

She arrived around 10:10 last night. She sat down at a table near the bar and had a few drinks. The redhead walked in the door about 10:45 or 11:00. She was accompanied by a heavyset dishwater blonde with a ponytail. The blonde was about 40— the same age as the redhead.

The redhead and the blonde sat down at a table. A Mexican-looking man walked over immediately and helped the redhead off with her coat. They headed to the dance floor and began dancing.

The man was 35 to 40, 5′8″ to 6′. He had a slender build and dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak. He had a swarthy complexion. He was wearing a dark suit and a white shirt open at the throat.

The man seemed to know the two women.

Another man asked Margie to dance. He was 25-ish, light-haired, medium height and build. He was wearing sloppy clothes and tennis shoes. He was drunk.

Margie declined his invitation. The drunk got snotty and walked off. A short while later she saw him dancing with the dishwater blonde.

Other things distracted her. She ran into a friend and decided to take a drive with him. They left at 11:30. The drunk was sitting with the redhead, the blonde and the Mexican then.

She’d never seen the redhead or the blonde before. She’d never seen the Mexican. She might have seen the drunk—he looked sort of familiar.

Lawton and Hallinen thanked Margie Trawick and drove her home. She agreed to come in for a backup interview sometime in the next few days. It was pushing midnight—a good time to brace bar people.

They circled back to the Desert Inn. Jim Bruton was there— hitting patrons up with questions. Lawton and Hallinen grabbed him and ran down Margie Trawick’s story.

They had more workable information now. They table-hopped and laid it out all over the room. They got a bite straight off.

Somebody thought the drunk sounded like a clown named Mike Whittaker. He did construction work and had a flop in South San Gabriel.

Bruton went out to his car and radio-patched a query to the California State Department of Motor Vehicles. He got a quick positive:

Michael John Whittaker, white male, DOB 1/1/34. 5′ 10″, 185 pounds, brown hair, blue eyes. 2759 South Gladys Street, South San Gabriel.

The address was a run-down rooming house. The owner was a Mexican woman named Inez Rodriguez.

Hallinen, Lawton and Bruton badged her at the door. They said they were looking for Mike Whittaker—as a possible homicide suspect.

The woman said Mike didn’t come home last night. He might have come and gone during the day—she didn’t know. He was quite a big drinker. Most of the time he hung out at the Melody, over on Garvey Boulevard.

Their “murder suspect” line spooked Inez Rodriguez.

Hallinen, Lawton and Bruton drove to the Melody Room. A man matching Mike Whittaker’s description was sitting at the bar.

They surrounded him and badged him. The man said he was Michael Whittaker.

Hallinen said they had some questions—pertaining to his whereabouts last night. Lawton and Bruton frisked him and manhandled him out to the car.

Whittaker played the roust submissive.

They drove him to the El Monte Station. They hustled him to an interview room and got up in his face.

Whittaker smelled. He was jittery and half-drunk.

He copped to being at the Desert Inn last night. He said he was looking for cooze. He was pretty blitzed last night, so he might not remember things too good.

Tell us what you do remember, Michael.

He remembered going to the bar. He remembered asking a girl to dance and getting brushed off. He remembered crashing a table party. The party consisted of a redhead, another girl and an Italian-type guy. He didn’t know their names and he’d never seen them before.

Lawton told him the redhead got murdered. Whittaker seemed genuinely shocked.

He said he danced with the redhead and the other girl. He hit the redhead up for a Sunday-night date. She nixed it and said something about her kid coming back from a weekend with his father. The Italian-type guy was dancing with the red-head, too. He was a good dancer. He might have said his name was Tommy—but I don’t remember too good.

Tell us what you do remember, Michael.

Michael remembered that he fell off his chair. Michael remembered that he outstayed his welcome at the table. Michael remembered the three people bugging out of the joint together to be rid of him.

He stayed at the bar and got more blitzed. He walked to Stan’s Drive-in for a late-night snack. A Sheriff’s prowl team rousted him a few blocks up Valley Boulevard. They popped him for plain drunk and drove him to the Temple City Station.

The drunk tank there was packed. The cops drove him to the Hall of Justice Jail and booked him in. Some beaners stole his shoes and socks while he was sleeping.

The tank deputy kicked him loose in the morning. He walked back to South San Gabriel barefoot—maybe 12 miles. The day was a scorcher. The pavement chewed up his feet and gave him big red blisters. He went by his room and grabbed some money and a pair of shoes and socks. He walked to the Melody and hunkered down to drink.

Bruton left the room and called the Temple City Sheriff’s Office. A deputy confirmed Whittaker’s story: the man was in custody from 12:30 a.m. on. He was alibied up for the victim’s probable time of death.

Bruton walked back to the interview room and laid out the news. Whittaker was thrilled. He said, Can I go home now?

Bruton told him he’d have to submit a formal statement within 48 hours. Whittaker agreed. Jack Lawton apologized for the heavy treatment and offered him a lift to his rooming house.

Whittaker accepted. Lawton drove him to his place and dropped him off at the curb.

His landlady had dumped his belongings out on the front lawn. The front door was latched and bolted.

She didn’t want no fucking murder suspects under her roof.

It was 2:30 a.m., Monday, June 23, 1958. The Jean Ellroy job—Sheriffs Homicide File #Z-483-362—was now 16 hours old.