Jack Zangetty disappears-Xmas '63. Jack washes out of Lake Lugert. Betty McDonald/suicide-2/ 13/64. Hank Killiam/suicide-3/ 17/64.

Jim Koethe-verbatim: "Who was the other woman at the safe house?"

Koethe riffs. Koethe thinks the "hit team" disbanded. "They had to leave Dallas. They might have crossed the Mexican border." Koethe secures a "Border-Patrol Source." Said source secures a passport-stop list.

The dates: 11/23-12/2/63.

Koethe works the list. Koethe taps "Secret Sources." Koethe runs 89 names. Koethe nails "a major suspect."

Jean Philippe Mesplиde/white male/age 41. Born: Lyon, France. Ex-French Army/ex-OAS trigger.

Mesplиde has "right-wing ties." Mesplиde has "ties to Cuban exile groups." Mesplиde's current address: 1214 Ciudad Juarez/Mexico City.

The pro shooter _was_ French. Chuck Rogers said so. Chuck said he walked over the border.

Pete skimmed pages. The text decohered. Koethe's logic went south.

Let's link Oswald and Ruby. Let's link Oswald and Moore. Let's link Lady Bird Johnson. Let's link Karyn Kupcinet.

Pete skimmed pages. Shit decohered. Let's link Dorothy Kilgallen. Let's link Lenny Bruce. Let's link Mort Sah!.

Pete skimmed pages. Shit recohered-FUCK-

There's a mug shot. It's file exhibit A. It's Kansas City PD sourced-3/8/56.

It's Arden-Jane. Arden Elaine _Bruvick_ then. Felony bounce-"Receipt of Stolen Goods."

One mug shot. Attached notes. "Confidential" tips:

Jack Ruby's bookkeeper splits Dallas. Her name is Arden _Smith_. She went to the safe house. She saw things she shouldn't. She split Big D. for good.

Koethe worked the name "Arden." Koethe logged tips and tapped sources. This guy knew that guy. That guy knew this. A guy glommed a mug shot. Some guys glommed some tales.

Such as:

Arden went through men. Arden had a husband. Said hubby was a Teamster. Said hubby ran the K.C. local.

Said hubby had accounting skills. Said hubby went to school in Mississippi. Said hubby was anti-Hoffa. Said hubby stole some Teamster funds.

Arden was bent. Arden trucked with whores. Arden was tight with two sisters: Pat and Pam Clunes.

The Arden notes stopped. The "Book" notes stopped. The file deadended. Pete felt dizzy. Pete took his pulse-1-fucking-63.

He bagged the file. He checked the drawers. He checked bookshelves and cabinets. No duplicates/no stash of loose clips.

He retossed the crib. He grid-searched it. He re-retossed it. He detossed it quick.

He trashed. He tidied. He worked fast. He worked fastidious.

He tossed the medicine chest. He restacked the shelves. He debuilt and rebuilt the toilet. He tapped the walls. He pulled up rugs. He laid them back straight. He slit-checked the chairs. He slit-checked the sofa. He slitchecked the bed.

No slits. No stash holes. No duplicates extant. No stash of loose clips.

He popped some Bayer's. He chased them with gin. He dredged up some guts. Queers overkilled queers. It was standard cop wisdom. All cops knew it.

He got a knife. He stabbed Jim Koethe ninety-four times.

o o o

South-80 miles per hour plus.

He took I-35. He cut through shit suburbs. He smelled like blood and gin. He smelled like Jim Koethe's shampoo.

He passed rest stops. He passed campgrounds. He saw kids' swings and bar-b-que pits. A car laid back-ten car lengths-it spooked him.

He ran tail riffs. He ran no-tail riffs. 4:00 a.m.-one highway/two cars.

His headache rehit. It built and mushroomed. King Kong greets Rodan.

He saw a camp sign. He pulled down a ramp. He saw a grill pit and tables. He nosed up. He killed his lights. He worked in the dark.

He dumped Koethe's file. He filled the pit. He siphoned gas and doused it. He lit a match and got a big whooooosh.

The flames built. The flames leveled off. The heat torqued his headache. It was monster. It was Godzilla-plus. It was the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Pete ran to his car. Pete swerved up the ramp. Pete hit the highway. Let's ditch Big D. Let's sedate forever. Let's eat secobarbital. Let's geez hair-o-wine.

That car laid back. It's a spaceship. The driver's King Kong. He's got Xray eyes. He knows you killed Koethe and Betty.

Pete got dizzy. The windshield vaporized. It's a porthole/it's a sieve. The road dropped. It's an inkwell. It's the Black Lagoon.

The Creature bit his head. Pete puked on the wheel.

There's a ramp. It's dropping. There's a sign:

HUBBARD, TEX, POP 4001.

o o o

Japs. Slice cords. Betty Mac. Slant eyes/crossbars/capris.

It came. It went. Roads dropped. Roads resurfaced. Ink blots and lagoons.

_He_ came. _He_ went. He felt Frankensteined. Sutures and staples. Green walls and white sheets.

Behold the Body Snatchers. Behold Doc Frankenstein:

You're lucky. A man found you. It's been five days now. God must love you-you cracked up near St. Ann's.

Doc had acne scars. Doc had halitosis. Doc had a drawl.

It's been six days. We cut a fat pad from your head-it was benign. I bet you had some darn bad headaches.

Don't worry now-that man in the car called your wife.

o o o

They brought him back.

Frankenstein came. Frankenstein went. Nuns fluttered and fussed. Don't hurt me-I'm Protestant French.

Frank destapled him. Nuns shaved him. He dehazed. He saw razors and hands. He rehazed. He saw Japs and Betty.

Hands fed him soup. Hands touched his dick. Hands jabbed tubes in. The haze sputtered. Words filtered through. Decrease his dose-don't addict him.

He dehazed. He saw faces:

Student nuns-the brides of Frankenstein. A slight man-Ivy League threads-John Stanton-like. Memory Lane: Miami/white horse/OutfitAgency ops.

He squinted. He tried to talk. Nuns went ssshhh.

o o o

He rehazed. He dehazed. He dehazed for real. Stanton was real-dig his tan-dig his drip-dry suit.

Pete tried to talk. His throat clogged. He hocked phlegm. His dick burned. He pulled his catheter out.

Stanton smiled. Stanton pulled his chair up.

"Sleeping Beauty awakes."

Pete sat up. Pete stretched his IV taut.

"You were tailing me. You saw me go off the road."

Stanton nodded. "And I called Barb and told her you were safe, but you couldn't have visitors yet."

Pete rubbed his face. "What are you doing here?"

Stanton winked. Stanton popped his briefcase. Stanton pulled out Pete's gun.

"You rest. The doctor said we'll be able to talk tomorrow."

o o o

They grabbed a bench. They lugged it outside. Stanton wore a drip-dry. Pete wore a robe.

He felt okay. Headaches-adieu.

He called Barb yesterday. They caught eight days up. Barb was okay. Stanton prepared her. Barb held in tough.

He read the _Times-Herald_. He got the gist. The Koethe snuff came and went. DPD worked it. DPD hassled queers. DPD cut them loose. The case vibed open file. It's a queer job-fuck it.

The _Morning News_ ran a piece. They ragged Koethe. They ragged his "wild talk." Koethe was a perennial crank. Koethe was a "conspiracy nut."

He burned Koethe's notes. The Arden dirt went up. He debated. He decided-don't tell Ward Littell.

It was _sketchy_ dirt-fill it out first.

A nun walked by-a sweet number-Stanton studied her.

"Jackie Kennedy wore hats like that."

"She wore one to Dallas."

Stanton smiled. "You're a fast study."

"I took Latin in school. I know what 'quid pro quo' means."