him the message his father left Feller put it together faster than we did. He went out to the Thorpe Ranch last night.”
“Too late to find any money.”
“But he found a skeleton in that hole. Bill Goffman’s skull and bones,” continued Easy. “Again Feller put things together, because he knew all of you. He knew about your husband’s sudden rise a few years ago. A sudden rise that coincided with the disappearance of Bill Goffman. Feller wanted to make money and he figured that, even though he was too late for Marquetti’s dough, he had something pretty valuable to sell. He figured your husband wouldn’t want that skeleton found. He called your husband and offered to sell him his son back.”
“Oh, Jesus,” said the girl. “Please, Easy, I don’t want to hear any more.”
“We haven’t even gotten to why Feller’s wife was killed, too,” said Easy.
“Just stop it,” said Danny. She came up to him, took hold of his arm. “Please, just get me away from here. Now.”
“Where’s Jake Goffman now?”
“He told everybody he was going up to SF for a Few days,” she said, still holding tight to his arm.
“But he’s really holed up at the Goftoy plant down in Hawthorne. He’s got a suite of apartments there up above the Research & Design building. Ennis called him there twice since we’ve been here.”
“I’ll go see him.”
“He’s got guards at night.”
“He had guards here,” said Easy.
CHAPTER 22
T HE NIGHT STAYED HOT. Easy reached across the front seat of his car and rolled down the passenger side window. Everything smelled like fertilizer around here. It was a few minutes shy of midnight and he was driving south from Hollywood toward Hawthorne.
At this hour of the night the VW radio brought in strange and faraway stations. Right now it had a station from New Mexico. The announcer, a young man with a surly tenor voice, was apparently in the process of quitting his job and had decided to play his own records instead of the station’s.
At the moment it was an old blues. “Well, there’s one kind favor I ask of you. Yes, there’s one kind favor I ask of you. Please see that my grave is kept clean.”
“Know what that was, you boobs out there?” asked the disc jockey in his surly tenor voice. “That was Blind Lemon Jefferson. Bet you never heard of him before you spoon-fed nitwits. No, because all you do is consume our plastic culture, never thinking, never inquiring. Now here’s a record by Leroy Carr. Never heard of him either, have you, you poor benighted rubes.”
“Nobody’s happy,” said Easy and clicked the radio off.
Ten miles further along he pulled into an all night gas station.
A very fat young man in a speckled white uniform came trotting out of the glaringly lit office. He got a look at Easy and began moving slower. “All the cash is locked in the safe and I can’t open it,” he called from ten feet away.
“Two bucks worth of regular.”
The fat boy moved a little closer. “You’re not a stickup artist?”
“Nope.”
“Sorry.” The boy approached the window. “You look, if I may say so, sir, very mean and formidable in there.”
“I was thinking about something else.”
“I get scared here nights. Just me and all these lights. Low lead regular or regular regular?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, yes, it does, sir. Low lead will help us save our air.”
“Nothing’s going to save LA, but make it low lead.”
After lifting the bonnet and thrusting in the hose, the fat boy came back to talk to Easy. “To young people such as myself, sir, ecology is very important. We’ll inherit this world from you older people some day after all.”
“I’m planning to leave my share to my cat,” said Easy. “Know where the Goftoy plant is from here?”
“Oh, yes. You stay on this road for another ten miles. Then you’ll come to a big interchange thing, with a bunch of ramps crisscrossing way up in the air. You’ve got to get on the one
“Too late to find any money.”
“But he found a skeleton in that hole. Bill Goffman’s skull and bones,” continued Easy. “Again Feller put things together, because he knew all of you. He knew about your husband’s sudden rise a few years ago. A sudden rise that coincided with the disappearance of Bill Goffman. Feller wanted to make money and he figured that, even though he was too late for Marquetti’s dough, he had something pretty valuable to sell. He figured your husband wouldn’t want that skeleton found. He called your husband and offered to sell him his son back.”
“Oh, Jesus,” said the girl. “Please, Easy, I don’t want to hear any more.”
“We haven’t even gotten to why Feller’s wife was killed, too,” said Easy.
“Just stop it,” said Danny. She came up to him, took hold of his arm. “Please, just get me away from here. Now.”
“Where’s Jake Goffman now?”
“He told everybody he was going up to SF for a Few days,” she said, still holding tight to his arm.
“But he’s really holed up at the Goftoy plant down in Hawthorne. He’s got a suite of apartments there up above the Research & Design building. Ennis called him there twice since we’ve been here.”
“I’ll go see him.”
“He’s got guards at night.”
“He had guards here,” said Easy.
CHAPTER 22
T HE NIGHT STAYED HOT. Easy reached across the front seat of his car and rolled down the passenger side window. Everything smelled like fertilizer around here. It was a few minutes shy of midnight and he was driving south from Hollywood toward Hawthorne.
At this hour of the night the VW radio brought in strange and faraway stations. Right now it had a station from New Mexico. The announcer, a young man with a surly tenor voice, was apparently in the process of quitting his job and had decided to play his own records instead of the station’s.
At the moment it was an old blues. “Well, there’s one kind favor I ask of you. Yes, there’s one kind favor I ask of you. Please see that my grave is kept clean.”
“Know what that was, you boobs out there?” asked the disc jockey in his surly tenor voice. “That was Blind Lemon Jefferson. Bet you never heard of him before you spoon-fed nitwits. No, because all you do is consume our plastic culture, never thinking, never inquiring. Now here’s a record by Leroy Carr. Never heard of him either, have you, you poor benighted rubes.”
“Nobody’s happy,” said Easy and clicked the radio off.
Ten miles further along he pulled into an all night gas station.
A very fat young man in a speckled white uniform came trotting out of the glaringly lit office. He got a look at Easy and began moving slower. “All the cash is locked in the safe and I can’t open it,” he called from ten feet away.
“Two bucks worth of regular.”
The fat boy moved a little closer. “You’re not a stickup artist?”
“Nope.”
“Sorry.” The boy approached the window. “You look, if I may say so, sir, very mean and formidable in there.”
“I was thinking about something else.”
“I get scared here nights. Just me and all these lights. Low lead regular or regular regular?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, yes, it does, sir. Low lead will help us save our air.”
“Nothing’s going to save LA, but make it low lead.”
After lifting the bonnet and thrusting in the hose, the fat boy came back to talk to Easy. “To young people such as myself, sir, ecology is very important. We’ll inherit this world from you older people some day after all.”
“I’m planning to leave my share to my cat,” said Easy. “Know where the Goftoy plant is from here?”
“Oh, yes. You stay on this road for another ten miles. Then you’ll come to a big interchange thing, with a bunch of ramps crisscrossing way up in the air. You’ve got to get on the one
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