By James Ellroy
Unique book: 1984
[b]While scouring the streets for a lacking cop, an L.A. detective uncovers a terrifying crime
There was once by no means a greater cop than Jungle Jack Herzog. A wiry guy whose power passed his body, his skill to navigate the darkest corners of town of Angels drew him repeated citations for bravery. Nicknamed the Alchemist for his uncanny skill to faux new identities, he did his top paintings as an secret agent within the vice squad, disappearing into the underworld within the identify of justice. Now he has disappeared for good. It’s a nasty signal that Lloyd Hopkins catches Jungle Jack’s case, simply because Hopkins works murder. As he makes an attempt to find what occurred to the lacking cop, he investigates a wierd homicide devoted with a revolver that predates the Civil conflict. there's a scary mystery at the back of the cop’s disappearance, yet Lloyd Hopkins doesn't worry the reality.
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Additional info for Because the Night (Lloyd Hopkins, Book 2)
Now, though, Dot Com Kid is making a big mistake. Hes hanging around the bar. The first rule of cons is: Never let the victim know hes been had. The second rule is: If you break the first rule, then run like hell. But the Kid is sipping his beer, watching the Giants game on the bar TV. Finally, he gets up from his stool and settles his tab in a leisurely fashion, dropping a few singles, one at a time, on the bar. God, hes hopeless. Your tab should always be settled before you start. You need to be able to leave the moment the con is done.
He is the husband of Mr. Santullos granddaughter. Which means: He married into Delfinos family, just in time. For years, I seldom saw the granddaughter visit the old man. But now that Mr. Santullo is approaching death, and his assets are about to be distributed, grandson has been making frequent appearances. Perhaps he smells a payday? The grandson is from somewhere in the Middle East, maybe Egypt. He has dark wavy hair, a swarthy complexion. He speaks perfect English, hardly an accent. Hes a commercial real estate broker.
I guess his generosity is coming to an end. I probably owe him a few thousand dollars. 94 per day in gross profit, I should be able to settle my debt with him in two and a half years. From the hopeless tone in his voice, he seems to have run the same calculation. The answering machine beeps and the second message plays. Im surprised by the voice. I havent heard from him in six monthssince Christmas. Toby seems to always come around when gifts are being distributed. �Hey, Dad, Toby says. His voice sounds casualtoo casual.
Because the Night (Lloyd Hopkins, Book 2) by James Ellroy