Stark

1
Ernie Stark was not the nicest guy you'd ever meet. Ask his friends. If he had any. He was a two-bit hustler who dreamt that the next score would be the big one. The one that would put him on easy street. But too often, he was outsmarted. If not by the sucker, then by the law.
Look at the latest situation he was in. Because of a stupid bust while he was still on parole, he was in bed with the cops. Stark had done a lot of shady things, but being a rat, a stool pigeon for the cops, was not a role he enjoyed. It was either that or going back to the slammer. He'd rather be a rat -- outside.
The cops knew that his Hawaiian pal, Momo, was adealer. Small time stuff. They didn't want him; they wanted his supplier. If they arrested Momo, the next higher up on the drug chain would disappear. They'd even arrest Momo if they knew where his goods were.
So, you hired a rat like Stark to get close to his pal and get the name of the supplier of Momo's drugs. Easier said than done, mused Stark, sitting at the bar next to Momo in their favorite nightclub. It was 1962, and the Panama was the best popular club in Oceanview.
Complicating things for Stark was that he was slowly getting hooked on heroin. Shit that his pal Momo was supplying at cut-rate prices to his buddy. He wasn't hooked yet, but he was getting there. It was what had got him in this spot with the cops. He now had a twice-a-day habit. He had a growing monkey on his back.
He also had to keep an eye on Dummy, a mute who everyone had avoided in the joint. He and Dummy had been in prison together. He for a bunko caper that went bad, Dummy for manslaughter. No con ever touched Dummy, after the one who tried to get too friendly and later wound up dead. Stark had even learned some basic phrases to sign to Dummy, but the guy read lips. You soon learned never to kid him -- to his face.
Dummy hung around the club, watching things. He had some sort of a deal with Momo. Stark guessed he was a runner. Maybe he could lead him to the Man?
Stark looked at his watch. He was late. Crowley would be pissed. Fuck him. How was he going to make his meet, with Dummy watching his every move? Dummy was nofriend. He almost never smiled. And when he did, somebody died.
"I gotta see a guy," he told Momo. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Save my seat." Momo didn't reply. He just waved him off. He didn't expect a farewell pat from Dummy.
STARK. Copyright © 2007 by Brendan W. Bunker. Foreword © 2007 by James Ellroy. Afterword © 2007 by Jennifer Steele. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.