He dug his two rooms. He dug on his view. Janice strolled. Janice changed clothes. Janice chipped balls out her window.

He lived in the guest house. He played at the Sultan's Lounge. He met Pete there. They watched Barb and socialized.

Pete introduced him. He blushed. They hit the Sands. They sipped frosty mai tais. They talked. Barb got tipsy and riffed on sex extortion. Barb said, "I worked JFK."

She stopped-looks traveled-looks dispersed wiiiiiide. Barb knew about Dallas. The looks said, "We all do."

That was March. Pete and Barb were back from Mexico. Pete and Barb were tan.

They flew to Acapulco. They flew back weird. Pete was thin. Barb was thin. Pete had lip scars. They had a cat-a stripedy tom-they loved his scraggly ass.

Wayne called Ward Littell. Wayne said, "What's up with Pete?" Wayne dropped Pete's "kid brother" line. Ward explained it all:

Pete killed his brother. Pete botched a hit. Pete killed Franзois B. accidental. That was '49. Wayne was fifteen then. Wayne lived in Peru, Indiana.

Pete got phone calls. Pete left Vegas. Wayne met Barb for lunch. They talked. They hashed neutral topics. They eschewed Pete's work. They talked up Barb's sister in Wisconsin. They talked up her Bob's Big Boy franchise. They talked up Barb's lowlife ex.

Barb teased him. Barb saw him with Janice. He copped to his sixteenyear crush.

Pete trusted him. Pete gauged his Barb crush. Pete tagged it kid stuff. Barb was great. Barb made him laugh. Barb pulled his eyes off of THEM.

He pressed Pete-find me _real_ work-Pete dodged his requests. He pressed Pete on Dallas-give me more details-Pete dodged his full press.

He said, "Why are you so fucked up and stoked on a cat?"

Pete said, "Shut up." Pete said, "Smile more and hate less."

43

(Dallas/Las Vegas/Acapulco/New Orleans/Houston/Pensacola/Los Angeles, 2/14/64-6/29/64)

He found the cat. He relocated him. The cat dug Vegas. The cat dug the Stardust Hotel.

The cat dug their suite. The cat dug room-service chow. Barb fucking shit. Who fucking body-snatched you?

You flew off. You flew back. You came home undone. You don't eat right. You don't sleep right. You _shudder_.

He did all that. He chain-smoked too. He gnashed his teeth. He drank himself to sleep. He reran one nightmare:

Saipan, '43. Japs. Roads rigged with slice cords. Jeeps pass by. The cords hit. Heads topple clean.

He got headaches. He popped scotch. He popped aspirin. Bedtime scared him. He read books. He watched TV. He messed with the cat. His arms pinged. He pissed more. His feet got numbed up.

He fought it. He flew to New Orleans. He rigged a slice cord. He staked Carlos out. He thought it through. He ran Yes and No lists. The Nos won in a walk.

Don't do it. The Boys would kill Barb-just for a start.

They'd kill Barb's mother. They'd kill Barb's sister. They'd kill the clan Lindscott worldwide.

He flew back to Vegas. He found a cat-sitter. Barb took a week off. They flew to Acapulco. They got a cliffside suite. They watched spics dive for tourist chump change.

He carved some nerve. He sat Barb down. He told her EVERYTHING.

Francois and Ruth Mildred Cressmeyer. Each and every paid hit. Betty Mac. The noose on the crossbars. Her nails at her neck.

He spilled facts. He spilled names. He spilled numbers. He spilled details. He spilled new Dallas shit. He spilled on Wendell D. and Lynette.

Barb ran.

She packed her bag. She ran from him. She moved out. He tried to stop her. She grabbed his gun. She aimed at him flush.

He backed off. She ran. He got drunk and studied the cliff. The drop ran six hundred feet.

He ran up. He swayed. He ran up ten times. He ran up sober and drunk. He punked out ten times. He dipped and caught himself. He stopped on pure lack of guts.

He scored some red devils. He slept through whole days. He dungeoned the bedroom up. He ate pills. He slept. He ate pills. He slept. He woke up and thought he was dead.

Barb was there. She said, "I'll stay." He cried and tore the bed up.

Barb shaved him. Barb fed him soup. Barb talked him off pills and cliff drops.

They flew to L.A. He saw Ward Littell. Ward knew about Betty. Carlos had bragged the job up.

They made plans. They schemed precautions. Ward was smart. Ward was good. Ward made an Arden a Jane.

Shit looked all new now. Ward said he understood. Vegas looked new-hard hues and hot weather.

He scored on the Clay fight. He cat-proofed the suite. He banked a sixdigit roll. The cat dug the suite. The cat perched. The cat pounced. The cat killed wall mice.

Pete called Farlan Moss. Moss worked Sheriff's Vice. Moss entrapped fruits and whores with panache. Pete hired him. The job: Sift dirt on Monarch Cab and Eldon Peavy.

Moss said he'd do it. Moss promised full disclosure. Moss promised results.

Carlos called Pete. Carlos eschewed Betty talk. Carlos made nice.

"Pete, I hope you swing Monarch. I'd love to buy in for some points."

Pete said, "No." Betty Mac hovered. Carlos said, "Let's wait on Hank K."

Pete said, "Okay." Pete sat and waited. He shitcanned the scotch. His sleep improved. His nightmares lulled off.

He palled with Wayne. He palled with the cat. He spot-checked Monarch. He _drooled_. He called Fred Otash. He called his cop pals. They ran bulletin checks.

Wendell Durfee-where you be? Wendell be _nowhere_.

He got restless. He drove to Big D. Betty Mac hovered and laid down ghost tracks. He checked around. He checked the DPD file. He got no Durfee leads and no sightings.

Carlos called him. Carlos said, "Go. Clip Hank Killiam."

Pete drove to Houston. Pete picked up Chuck Rogers. Chuck lived with his folks. They were dings. They wore Klan sheets to bed.

Pete and Chuck split eastward-Pensacola-bound.

They drove back roads. They dawdled. Chuck talked up Vietnam. John Stanton was there now. The CIA was in deep. Chuck knew a Saigon MP-a cat named Bob Relyea-ex-prison guard/ex-KIan.

Chuck talked to Bob. They enjoyed shortwave chats. Bob extolled Vietnam nonstop. It was _hot_. It was groovy. It was Cuba on Meth.

Chuck talked Cuba-_Viva la Causa!_-Pete ragged the De Ridder "troops." They agreed-fuck Hank Hudspeth and Guy B. in the neck. They drank too much. They talked too much. They sold bad guns.

The South was wild-spring rains and big voodoo.

They drove through Louisiana. They bunked at exile camps. Chuck drilled the troops. Pete cleaned dirty guns.

The troops were substandard. The troops were spic trash. They split Cuba. They migrated. They scrounged right-wing welfare. They lacked balls. They lacked skills. They lacked savoir faire.

Chuck knew all the back roads. Chuck knew rib joints Dixiewide. They cut through Mississippi. They cut through Alabama. They dodged Fed cars. They hit cross burns. Chuck knew sheet boys statewide.

Nice kids-a bit dumb-a bit inbred.

They bunked at Klan kamps. They split at dawn. They passed torched churches. De-churched coons stood by.

Chuck laughed. Chuck waved. Chuck yelled, "Howdy, you-all!"

They hit Pensacola. They staked out Hank K. Hank K. stayed inside. They invaded his pad. They slit his throat. They drove his body around. They dawdled. They cruised to 3:00 a.m. They found a TV-store window.

They tossed Hank in. Hank broke the glass. Hank crashed Zeniths and RCAs.

The Pensacola _Trib_/third column/page 2: BIZARRE SUICIDE. LOCAL MAN DIVES TO DEATH.

Chuck flew to Houston. Pete drove to Vegas. Pete sloughed off Hank K. Hank was male. Hank knew the rules. Hank got no gender relief.

Pete killed time. Pete palled with the cat. Pete palled with Wayne. They caught Barb's gigs. They sat ringside. Wayne dug on Barb. Wayne played it straight. Wayne honored women that way.