Crime Wave: Reportage and Fiction From the Underside of L.A.

by James Ellroy

  She died of ligature asphyxiation. She sustained several blows to the head. Her fingernails were caked with blood, skin, and beard fragments.

  She fought back.

  I opened the photo envelope. The first stack of pictures: detained and exonerated suspects.

  Cruel-looking men. Rough trade. White trash with a vengeance. Hard eyes, tattoos, psychopathic rectitude.

  I recognized Harvey Glatman, a sex killer executed in 1959. A note said he passed a polygraph test.

  The second stack: miscellaneous photos and wide-angles of the crime scene.

  My father, circa 1946. A notation on the back: "Vict's exhusband." A faded snapshot: my mother in her teens. The man beside her? Probably my German-immigrant grandfather.

  Arroyo High School, 6/22/58. Santa Anita Road and King's Road--a football field with jerry-built goalposts. Those righthand-corner X marks: the curbside bushes where they found her. The topography lacked perspective. Every detail hit my eyes as too small, and unequal to the central myth of my life.

  I looked at the pictures of my dead mother. I saw the stocking around her neck and the insect bites on her breasts.

  Lividity had thickened her features. She did not look like anyone I had ever known.

  I knew it wasn't over. I knew my hours with the file constituted an ambiguous new start.

  I left the squad room and drove to El Monte. The years then to now had been cruel.

  I clenched up. It felt like something had to hit me at any second. I kept expecting a migraine or a bad case of the shakes.

  New prefab houses had aged and split at the joints. Smog obscured the San Gabriel peaks.

  The Desert Inn was gone. A taco hut replaced it. The El Monte PD building had been razed and rebuilt.

  Anne Le Gore School remained intact. Gang graffiti on the walls provided an update.

  Stan's Drive-In was gone. My old house had been face-lifted past recognition.

  Arroyo High School needed a paint job. The playing field needed a trim. Weeds grew thick all around the X-marked spot.

  The town had compressed. Its old secrets had subsided into the memories of strangers.

  Stoner told me Sergeant Lawton was dead. Sergeant Ward Hallinen: 82 years old and living outside San Diego.

  I called him and explained who I was. He apologized for his failing memory and said he couldn't recall the case. I thanked him for his efforts thirty-six years ago. I remembered a cop who gave me a candy bar, and wondered if it was him.

  It wasn't over. The resolution felt incomplete.

  I canceled a dinner date and willed myself to sleep. I woke up at 3 A.M.--unclenched and sick with it.

  Conscious thoughts wouldn't process. I went down to the hotel gym and slammed weights until it hurt.

  Steam and a shower helped. I went back to my room and let it hammer me.

  New facts contradicted old assumptions. I had always thought my mother was killed because she wouldn't have sex with a man. It was a child's coda to horror: A woman dies fending off violation.

  My mother made love with her killer. A witness viewed postcoital moments.

  They left the drive-in. He wanted to ditch this desperate woman he fucked and get on with his life. The combustion occurred because she wanted more.

  More liquor. More distance from the Dutch Reformed Church. More self-abasing honky-tonk thrills.

  More love i6,ooo times removed in desiccation.

  I inherited those urges from my mother. Gender bias favored me: Men can indiscriminately fuck women with far greater sanction than women can indiscriminately fuck men. I drank, used drugs, and whored with the bravado of the winked-at and condoned. Luck and a coward's circumspection kept me short of the abyss.

  Her pain was greater than mine. It defines the gulf between us. Her death taught me to look inward and hold myself separate. That gift of knowledge saved my life.

  It wasn't over. My investigation will continue.

  I took a new gift away from El Monte. I feel proud that I carry her features.

  Geneva Hilliker Ellroy: 1915--1958.

  My debt grows. Your final terror is the flame I touch my hand to.

  I will not diminish your power by saying I love you.

  August 1994

  GLAMOUR JUNGLE

  I

  The Crime

  SHERIFF'S HOMICIDE FILE #Z-961-651. DATE: 11/30/63. LOCATION: 1227½ NORTH SWEETZER AVENUE, WEST HOLLYWOOD. VICTIM: KUPCINET, KARYN (NMI), W/F/22/DOB 3/6/41.

  The place:

  A courtyard complex off the Sunset Strip.

  The victim:

  A drug-addicted and eating-disordered actress-dilettante.

  The crux of the major-case commitment:

  Money and prestige. The victim's father had very large pull.

  Saturday, 11/30/63. 7:00 P.M.:

  Mark Goddard enters the courtyard. His wife, waits in the car. Mark Goddard is a TV actor. Marcia Goddard is Karyn Kupcinet's best friend.

  They're worried about her. She had dinner at their house Wednesday night. She acted very weird.

  Her eyes were pinned-out. She said she took a Miltown. She told them a crazy story.

  She said she found a baby on her doorstep. The cops came and took him away. The story was wholly fantastic.

  Goddard walked up to Karyn's apartment and knocked on the door. He saw a light on inside. He got no answer. He tried the door. It popped open.

  Goddard got scared. He went back to the car and brought Marcia up. They entered the apartment. The TV was on. The sound was down low.

  They saw a body on the couch. It was nude and stretched out facedown.

  Marcia screamed. Mark ran to the manager's apartment. The manager called the West Hollywood Sheriff's Station.

  The dispatcher radioed a patrol car. The manager grabbed a neighbor with some medical skills. The man entered the apartment and confirmed the victim was dead.

  The patrol cops arrived. They examined the victim and noted signs of decomp. Fluids dripped from the mouth, nose, and eye sockets. The purge had turned her face blue-black.

  The patrol cops talked to Mark and Marcia Goddard. They observed the immediate scene.

  They noted:

  "Several magazines lying on the porch outside the deceased's front door, dating to 11/28/63. Immediately inside the front door and approximately 8" from the west end of the couch was an overturned glass container with numerous cigarettes inside and sixteen Kent cigarettes strewn about the floor at the end of the couch. A white metal coffee maker (pot) was lying on its side approximately io feet north of the couch. The television was observed to be playing at a moderate volume on Channel 4. A lamp table on the east wall of the living room was observed to have the lower drawer standing open, and a coat-closet door was open in the northeast corner of the living room. The bedroom was observed to have numerous articles of clothing and bedding strewn about the floor, and three dresser drawers were standing open. The rear door was observed to be secured from the inside with a hook-and-eye type fastener."

  The patrol cops talked to Mark and Marcia Goddard. They revealed:

  Karyn was a close friend. They met her in '61. Her father was Irv Kupcinet. He was a columnist and TV host in Chicago. "Kup" was big-time. He was "Mr. Chicago."

  They saw Karyn Wednesday night. She said she saw a shrink. The shrink said she was in bad shape. Karyn was seeing an actor named Andy Prine. Andy costarred on the Wide Country show. The romance was dead. Karyn was very depressed.

  8:45 P.M.:

  Sheriff's Homicide arrives. Representing the squad: Lieutenant George Walsh, Sergeant Bobby Chapman, Sergeant Jim Wahike.

  They talked to Mark and Marcia Goddard. They observed the immediate scene.

  They noted:

  "Location consisted of a living room, an attached dining area, kitchen, hallway, one bedroom and bath.

  "A red bathrobe was observed on an overstuffed chair on the east side of the living room. This bathrobe appeared to have been taken off and placed in th
e chair in a disorderly fashion...

  "The living room closet door was observed to be open. Expensive items of clothing, including a mink stole, were immediately visible. Other items, such as a pair of women's shoes and a teddy bear, were also observed lying on the floor in the vicinity of the doorway leading into the hall, bathroom, and bedroom."

  Dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. Three coffee cups. An empty cake box on a hallway book stand. A serving knife on top of it.

  An orderly bathroom. A negligee on a hanger. A brassiere on the left side of the washstand.

  The bedroom:

  Twin beds shoved together. Disheveled sheets and bedcovers.

  On the beds:

  One nightgown, one shower cap, one hairbrush, one towel, one red-checked blouse.

  A dressing table. A bath towel wadded up on a chair. A pile of women's clothes on the floor.

  Chapman and Wahlke searched the apartment. They found a weird book. It was open to a very weird page. The text said you should dance in the nude to free your inhibitions.

  They checked the medicine chest. They found thirteen pill jars. They read the fill dates on the labels.

  Miltown, Amvicel, Thyroid Extract, Modaline, Desoxyn.

  Miltown was a trank. Desoxyn was a diet pill/upper. Two fiftypill Desoxyn scripts were refilled last Monday. Forty-eight pills and thirty-three pills were gone. A twenty-five-pill Modaline script was refilled on Tuesday. Eight pills were gone. A fifty-pill Amvicel script was filled on Monday. Six pills were gone. A hundred-pill Desoxyn script was filled on 11/9. The hundred pills were gone.

  Chapman called the victim's parents in Chicago. They took it hard. They said they'd fly out in the morning.

  10:30 P.M.:

  Division Chief Floyd Rosenberg and Captain Al Etzel arrive. Two photo cops show up. They shoot the pad and the victim's body. Lieutenant Walsh finds a handwritten note.

  For me--

  I feel self-conscious about this, like I'm going to have to get approval on it eventually. (Approval it is--or you're doomed to insignificance). Everything I've done, supposedly being myself and with the promise of anonymity, I do for approval . . . knowing. . . "this'll get 'em." "They'll love me for this" and "They'll say nice things behind my back."

  I guess I've been searching for an identity too desperately. . . seized the nearest image; whether David and doing things his way and pointedly not compromising with my traditional way--and using it vs. my parents--snubbing my nose at their way. Always hate to be with them after a lengthy visit with "current" boyfriend and their families-- guilt--I guess. Trying to show them I can be something. Always faking it. Never tapping my own resources. Afraid of--what? Me or that there won't be anything.

  I'm no good. I'm not really that pretty. My figure's fat and will never be the way my mother wants it. I won't let it be what wants. How stupid. I want to be slim and she loves me and wants me to be slim--intellectualization doesn't mark.

  Why must I be so alone. Have I fallen that short of my ideal? Why does my image of me have to be so aesthetic and perfect? What's the use of living with nothing to believe in? Have faith in? Where's the security--or habit or order--oh shit--what good is that going to do? What happens to me-- or my Andy? Why doesn't he want me? Why? There's no GOD.

  There's nothing only phony motives, selfish egoists, selfless people, fat heads and drunks, and I want

  I like President Kennedy, Bertrand Russell, Theodore Reiks, Peter O'Toole, SydneyJ. Harris, Albert Finney.

  I just care about now who gives a shit about 10 years from now. (there won't be any with Andy--maybe that's it.) If only I had a reason. No one needs me--or cares to need me. They're right. I'm bored and I'm a doll at first, then a phony and fake. I feel like "they" owe me a life. Like all my failings are their fault. . . . I dare them to make me happy. How immature and childish--I know.

  Chapman and Wahlke let the Goddards go home.

  The press arrived. They caught the dead-body call off a policeband broadcast. Chapman and Wahlke made them stand in the courtyard. They revealed the victim's name and ID'd her father. The reporters dispersed and phoned in their stories.

  The coroner's investigator arrived. He removed the victim's body and took it to the L.A. County Morgue. Dr. Harold Kade performed the autopsy.

  Rubberneckers jammed up the courtyard. The victim's phone rang. Chapman grabbed it.

  The caller said his name was Bryan O'Byrne. He said he heard a radio bit on Karyn. He knew Andy Prine. He said he'd try to find him and bring him to the West Hollywood Sheriff's Station.

  Rosenberg, Walsh, and Etzel drove back to Homicide. Chapman and Wahlke locked up the apartment. They drove to the West Hollywood Station.

  Three men arrived. They said they heard a radio spot and rushed right down.

  Their names:

  Robert Hathaway--white male/age 24. William Mamches-- white male/age 23. Edward Rubin--white male/age 22.

  They knew the victim and Andy Prine. Rubin and Hathaway saw Karyn last Wednesday night. They left her pad at 11:00 P.M.

  She fed them coffee and cake. They split after The Danny Kaye Show.

  Chapman and Wahlke told the guys to come back later. They'd have to submit full statements.

  3:00 A.M.:

  Chapman and Wahlke drove down to Homicide. They called Dr. Kade. He said they had a murder.

  His stated cause of death:

  Manual strangulation. The victim's hyoid bone was fractured.

  The only visible trauma was neck trauma. The decomp wiped out all possible signs of face trauma.

  The probable time-of-death: late Wednesday P.M. or early Thursday A.M.

  Chapman and Wahlke told Etzel and Rosenberg. Etzel called Sergeant Ward Hallinen and Sergeant Roy Collins. He assigned them to the Kupcinet case.

  Chapman and Wahlke called the captain of the Sheriff's Metro Squad. The captain called Deputy Jim Boyer and Deputy Sam Miller. He told them to work the Kupcinet case full-time.

  Chapman and Wahlke went back to the victim's apartment. A print team arrived and dusted all four rooms. A backup crew arrived. They bagged bedding, towels, sofa cushions, and clothing.

  7:00 A.M., Sunday, 12/1/63:

  Chapman called Mark and Marcia Goddard. Wahlke called Hathaway, Mamches, and Rubin. They arranged a string of interviews at the West Hollywood Station.

  The Karyn Kupcinet case was twelve hours old.

  The witnesses showed up. A stenographer transcribed their statements verbatim.

  Bryan O'Byrne found Andy Prine and brought him in. Chapman and Wahlke braced him first. The interview began at 7:45 A.M. and ended at 8:54.

  Prine was 27. He said he met Karyn last December. She got a gig on his show. They started dating. He got Karyn pregnant last summer. Mark and Marcia Goddard took her to Tj. She got an abortion there.

  Chapman asked Prine where they stood lately. Prine said it was "minimized." He didn't want to marry Karyn. He wanted to date other chicks. Karyn was into their thing more than he was.

  Wahlke asked Prine if his buddies ever came on to Karyn. Prine said, "No." Wahlke asked Prine if Karyn would fight off a rape-o. Prine said, "Yes." Wahlke asked Prine if Karyn slept around. Prine said, "No."

  Wahlke asked Prine if Karyn had any enemies. Prine said some nut sent them both hate notes.

  It started last summer. The notes were made up from magazine clips. The nut placed them by his door and Karyn's. The nut knew when they were home and when they were out.

  Karyn got a dozen dirty phone calls. He got some weird hangups. He took the notes to the LAPD. They told him not to sweat it. Stuff like that happened to minor celebrities.

  Wahlke asked Prine when he last saw Karyn. Prine said they went to Palm Springs last weekend. Earl Holliman and his chick went with them. Earl was on Wide Country.

  The Kennedy snuff bummed them all out. They decided to hit the Springs and catch some rays. They left Friday night and got back Sunday night. He dropped Karyn off at 8:oo P.M. He never saw her again.

&
nbsp; Wahlke asked Prine when he last talked to Karyn. He said they talked twice on Wednesday--i 1/2 7. -

  She called him about 6:oo P.M. They discussed the baby that someone dumped on her doorstep. He went out that night. He took an actress chick to a movie. They saw A Streetcar Named Desire. They went out for a drink. He dropped her off at her pad. He went home and called Karyn. It was 11:30 or 12:00. Karyn said the cops took the baby away.

  Wahlke asked Prine if he caused Karyn's death. Prine said, "No." Wahlke asked him if he'd take a polygraph test. Prine said, "Yes."

  Chapman and Wahlke braced Edward Rubin. The interview began at 9:07 A.M. and ended at 10:03.

  Rubin was a "free-lance writer." He shared a pad in Beverly Hills. He used to live next door to Andy Prine. Bill Mamches and Bob Hathaway shared the pad now.

  Chapman asked Rubin if he had sex with Karyn. Rubin said, "No." Chapman asked Rubin how long he knew her. Rubin said, "Five months."

  Chapman asked Rubin about the Karyn-Andy thing. Rubin said Karyn loved Andy more than Andy loved her. Chapman asked Rubin about Wednesday night. Rubin laid it out.

  He walked over to Karyn's pad. He got there around 8:30. They talked for an hour. Karyn got antsy and went for a walk. She ran into Bob Hathaway. She brought him back up. She served cake and coffee. They all watched TV.

  Karyn mentioned the baby she found. Chapman asked Rubin if he thought she made up the story. Rubin said, "Possibly."

  Karyn dozed with two guys right there. He walked her into the bedroom and watched her get into bed. He watched TV with Bob. They split. They walked down to the Raincheck Room. They spent fifteen or twenty minutes there. They walked to Bob's car and drove to Bob and Bill's place. They got there about 11 :30. Bill was asleep. They watched a flick on TV Andy Prine showed up a half-hour later. They gabbed until 3:oo A.M. Andy lived next door. He dropped by a lot. Long bullshit sessions were common. Andy said he went to a rodeo. He went to Grassari's Bar right after.