My Dark Places Read Free Page B

the number Ellis Outlaw gave them. Margie Trawick picked up.
    Lawton ran some preliminary questions by her. Margie Trawick came on strong—she
did
see an attractive redhead sitting with a group of people last night. Lawton told her to meet him at the El Monte Police Station in half an hour.
    Ervin drove Lawton and Hallinen back to the station. Margie Trawick was waiting for them. She came off as high-strung and anxious to help.
    Hallinen showed her the Jean Ellroy snapshot. She ID’d it flat out.
    Ervin split for the Desert Inn—to show that snapshot around. Hallinen and Lawton got Margie Trawick comfortable and let her talk without interruption.
    She said she wasn’t employed by the Desert Inn—but she’d waitressed there sporadically for the past nine years. She recently underwent major surgery and enjoyed going to the place strictly for fun.
    She arrived around 10:10 last night. She sat down at a table near the bar and had a few drinks. The redhead walked in the door about 10:45 or 11:00. She was accompanied by a heavyset dishwater blonde with a ponytail. The blonde was about 40— the same age as the redhead.
    The redhead and the blonde sat down at a table. A Mexican-looking man walked over immediately and helped the redhead off with her coat. They headed to the dance floor and began dancing.
    The man was 35 to 40, 5′8″ to 6′. He had a slender build and dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak. He had a swarthy complexion. He was wearing a dark suit and a white shirt open at the throat.
    The man seemed to
know
the two women.
    Another man asked Margie to dance. He was 25-ish, light-haired, medium height and build. He was wearing sloppy clothes and tennis shoes. He was drunk.
    Margie declined his invitation. The drunk got snotty and walked off. A short while later she saw him dancing with the dishwater blonde.
    Other things distracted her. She ran into a friend and decided to take a drive with him. They left at 11:30. The drunk was sitting with the redhead, the blonde and the Mexican then.
    She’d never seen the redhead or the blonde before. She’d never seen the Mexican. She might have seen the drunk—he looked sort of familiar.
    Lawton and Hallinen thanked Margie Trawick and drove her home. She agreed to come in for a backup interview sometime in the next few days. It was pushing midnight—a good time to brace bar people.
    They circled back to the Desert Inn. Jim Bruton was there— hitting patrons up with questions. Lawton and Hallinen grabbed him and ran down Margie Trawick’s story.
    They had more workable information now. They table-hopped and laid it out all over the room. They got a bite straight off.
    Somebody thought the drunk sounded like a clown named Mike Whittaker. He did construction work and had a flop in South San Gabriel.
    Bruton went out to his car and radio-patched a query to the California State Department of Motor Vehicles. He got a quick positive:
    Michael John Whittaker, white male, DOB 1/1/34. 5′ 10″, 185 pounds, brown hair, blue eyes. 2759 South Gladys Street, South San Gabriel.
    The address was a run-down rooming house. The owner was a Mexican woman named Inez Rodriguez.
    Hallinen, Lawton and Bruton badged her at the door. They said they were looking for Mike Whittaker—as a possible homicide suspect.
    The woman said Mike didn’t come home last night. He might have come and gone during the day—she didn’t know. He was quite a big drinker. Most of the time he hung out at the Melody, over on Garvey Boulevard.
    Their “murder suspect” line spooked Inez Rodriguez.
    Hallinen, Lawton and Bruton drove to the Melody Room. A man matching Mike Whittaker’s description was sitting at the bar.
    They surrounded him and badged him. The man said he
was
Michael Whittaker.
    Hallinen said they had some questions—pertaining to his whereabouts last night. Lawton and Bruton frisked him and manhandled him out to the car.
    Whittaker played the roust submissive.
    They drove him to the