by James Ellroy
We looked at the paperwork. We put the income tax forms aside. We looked at the pictures of Will Lenard Miller.
He was dark-haired and heavyset. He had blunt facial characteristics. He did not look like the Swarthy Man.
Guenther examined his checklist. He said the notations pertained to standard procedure. He always did the same thing when he picked up old cases. Nothing juked his memory. The list was just a personal reminder.
We read the lawyer’s letter. It itemized Will Lenard Miller’s workplace grievances.
Miller took a spill and fucked up his left knee. He started having dizzy spells and blackouts. He fell down and fucked up his head. His physical injuries fucked up his psychological balance.
I mentioned a Blue Book report. Shirley Miller said my mother refused to process an injury claim her husband submitted. She said it sent him “off the deep end.”
Guenther said Miller was a goddamn crybaby. Bill said he sure didn’t look Latin.
We checked out the probation order. Will Lenard Miller bounced a few checks. He got a $25 fine and two years probation. He had to make restitution. He had to see a financial counselor. He had to get permission to make purchases above $50.
We all agreed.
Will Lenard Miller was one sorry sack of shit.
We checked his tax statements. They confirmed our appraisal.
Will Lenard Miller went through jobs quick. He worked at nine different machine shops in three calendar years.
We read the Orange County Sheriff’s reports. We put the basic story in perspective.
It was late August ’70. The Orange County cops went looking for Will Lenard Miller. They wanted to pop him on a probation warrant. Deputy J. A. Sidebotham talked to Shirley Ann Miller. She said she broke up with Will Lenard Miller one year ago. She said he burned down a furniture warehouse in 1968. She said he murdered a nurse named Jean Hilliker in 1958.
Jean worked at Airtek Dynamics. She used to date Will Lenard Miller. She rejected a medical claim that Will Lenard Miller submitted. This enraged Will Lenard Miller. Jean Hilliker was murdered two weeks later. Shirley Miller read about it. Will Lenard Miller looked like a picture of the suspect. The papers said the suspect drove a Buick. Will Lenard Miller drove a ’52 or ’53 Buick. He painted it a few days after the murder. The McMahon Furniture Company repossessed some furniture that Will Lenard Miller bought. Somebody torched their warehouse a few weeks later. Shirley Miller read about it. She showed the article to Will Lenard Miller. Will Lenard Miller said, “I did it.” Will Lenard Miller was mentally ill and a “psycho.”
Sidebotham called the El Monte PD. They told him Jean Hilliker was Jean Hilliker Ellroy. The L.A. Sheriff’s handled the case. The El Monte PD assisted.
Sidebotham arrested Will Lenard Miller. He booked him on the probation warrant and locked him down in the Orange County Jail. The El Monte PD contacted Sheriffs Homicide. Deputy Charlie Guenther and Sergeant Duane Rasure were told to reopen the Jean Ellroy case.
Guenther and Rasure interviewed Shirley Ann Miller. She told them the same story she told Deputy Sidebotham. Guenther and Rasure interviewed several Airtek people. The El Monte PD assigned two cops to assist them. Sergeant Marv Martin and Detective D. A. Ness interviewed more Airtek people. Guenther and Rasure and Martin and Ness interviewed Will Lenard Miller. Will Lenard Miller said he did not kill Jean Hilliker. Will Lenard Miller took a polygraph test and passed it.
Guenther said it was all coming back. He remembered Will Lenard Miller. They grilled him at the Orange County Jail. He was popping pills for some kind of heart condition. He looked like shit. They wanted to take him up to L.A. for his polygraph test. The DA refused to release him. Guenther said he didn’t trust the Orange County polygrapher. He said he thought the test came back inconclusive.
We checked the polygraph transcript.
RE: WILL LENARD MILLER
Allegation: Involvement In Death of JEAN ELLROY During
June, 1958, El Monte.
Subject: Polygraph Examination of WILL LENARD MILLER
By: FREDERICK C. MARTIN, Polygraph Examiner
District Attorney’s Office
September 15, 1970
During pre-test interview after discussing with MILLER the circumstances surrounding the demise of JEAN ELLROY, and after showing him a picture consisting of four males and four females grouped around a table, he stated he did not recognize any of the persons in the picture—especially that of ELLROY. In addition he stated he had never personally met or seen her in his life. He stated he was familiar with her only because his wife worked at the plant where ELLROY was a nurse, and that ELLROY would dispense medication to his wife. He stated in conversations between him and his wife he became aware of this, as well as observing her name on the medication bottle.
A series of physical and psychological test patterns was conducted on MILLER, and it was determined from these tests that MILLER was a capable subject for examination.
The following relevant questions, and verbal answers thereto, were utilized during the examination:
1. Did you ever meet in person any of the females in the picture I have shown you? ANSWER: No.
2. Did you kill JEAN ELLROY during June, 1958? ANSWER: No.
3. Did you dispose of JEAN ELLROY’s body in a field in El Monte during June, 1958? ANSWER: No.
4. Did you shoot JEAN ELLROY to death? ANSWER: No.
There were no reactions indicative of deception shown to any of the above relevant questions. Question No. 4 is a control question—no such act occurring or alleged.
FREDERICK C. MARTIN, Polygraph Examiner
District Attorney’s Office
pc
Dictated 9-16-70
Bill said it looked like an incomplete test. Guenther said Miller was never a hard suspect. I said Shirley Miller got her facts wrong.
She worked at Airtek. Will Lenard didn’t. There were no tax statements from Airtek. My mother drove a Buick. The Swarthy Man didn’t. Miller’s paint job meant nothing.
Bill said he’d call Duane Rasure and the two El Monte cops. They might have more information. Guenther said we had to find the Blonde. We were stone fucked without her.
We flew back to Orange County. Bill called me the next morning.
He said he’d talked to Rasure and the El Monte cops. Rasure remembered the case. He said he talked to four or five Airtek employees. The people said Will Lenard Miller worked at Airtek for real. They couldn’t connect him to Jean Ellroy in any context. Rasure called the Miller deal a washout.
Marv Martin remembered the case. He said he discussed it with Ward Hallinen—back in that ’70 time frame. Ward came out to the El Monte Station. They talked about Will Lenard Miller. Hallinen did not know that Miller existed. Martin threw out one bomb. He said he thought Will Lenard Miller hung himself in his cell right after they questioned him. D. A. Ness said Marv had it all wrong. He said Miller had a heart attack and died in his cell.
The suicide rumor shocked me. Bill said he didn’t believe it. Somebody would have dropped a note in my mother’s file. He said he just called Louie Danoff at the Bureau. Louie said he’d call the Orange County Sheriff’s. Police agencies kept files on their in-custody deaths.
I called Will Lenard Miller an intergalactic long shot. Bill said I was being optimistic. He said we should go to the Bureau and run some witnesses.
I brought a list. Bill showed me three computer terminals.
One fed into the California State Department of Justice. It supplied personal statistics, aliases and CII numbers indicating criminal records. One fed into the California State DMV It supplied driving records, personal statistics, previous addresses and your subject’s current address. The “reverse book” computer stored statistics from eight western states. You fed in your subject’s name. You got an address and phone number back.
I met Louie Danoff and John Yarbrough. They were working the Unsolved Unit. Danoff said Will Lenard Miller did not kill himself in the Orange
County Jail. He just talked to his Orange County contact. The man checked around and said no go. Bill asked Yarbrough to trace Lavonne Chambers. She was 29 in 1958. She was employed by a Nevada casino in 1962.
I checked my witness list.
Mr. and Mrs. George Krycki, Margie Trawick, Jim Boss Bennett, Michael Whittaker, Shirley Miller, Will Lenard Miller, Peter Tubiolo. Margie Trawick’s DOB was 6/14/22. Jim Boss Bennett’s DOB was 12/17/17. Michael Whittaker was 24 in 1958. I knew the age stats would narrow down our search.
Bill ran the Kryckis first. He got no hit on the DMV and State DOJ. He got a reverse book hit. George and Anna May Krycki lived in Kanab, Utah. The computer printed out their address and phone number.
Bill ran Jim Boss Bennett. He got a State DOJ hit. The printout stated that Jim Boss Bennett’s CII record was purged. Bill said Jim Boss Bennett was probably dead. The DOJ wiped dead people out of their main computer. He wanted to confirm Bennett’s death. He said he knew a guy who could check Social Security records.
We ran Peter Tubiolo. We got a DMV hit. Tubiolo was 72 now. He lived in Covina.
We ran Shirley Miller. We got a DMV hit. Her address matched an address in the Will Lenard Miller file. An asterisk and the word “deceased” were printed below it.
We ran Will Lenard Miller. We got a DOJ hit and a purge listing. Bill said the fucker was dead.
We ran Margie Trawick. We got three negative hits. I remembered that Margie was married and divorced or widowed. Her maiden name was Phillips. Bill ran Margie Phillips and our established DOB. He got no DMV and DOJ hits. The reverse book supplied a long printout. Margie Phillips was a common name.
We ran Michael Whittaker. We got a DMV hit and a DOJ hit for a Michael John Whittaker. We got a 1986 address in San Francisco. The DOJ printout listed a CII number and a 1/1/34 date of birth.
I opened up my briefcase and checked the Ellroy Blue Book. Whittaker’s middle name was John.
Bill wrote down the CII number and gave it to a clerk. She said she’d order a copy of Whittaker’s rap sheet and his current address statistics.
John Yarbrough walked up. He handed Bill a memo slip. He said he called a guy on the Vegas PD. The guy called a guy on the Nevada Gaming Commission. They found Lavonne Chambers’ casino employment record. They called the Nevada State DMV and got the whole ball of wax.
Lavonne Chambers was now Lavonne Parga. She just renewed her driver’s license. She lived in Reno, Nevada.
22
Bill wanted to hit Lavonne Chambers clean. He didn’t want to call and request an interview. He wanted to hit her before she had time to think and formulate answers.
We flew to Reno. We got two rooms at a Best Western. The desk clerk gave us a map. We rented a car and drove to Lavonne Chambers’ last known address.
It was outside Reno proper. The area was semi-rural and semi-run-down. Everybody had a truck or a four-wheel-drive camper. The vehicles looked good. The houses looked bad.
We knocked on Lavonne Chambers’ door. A man opened up. Bill badged him and explained our situation. The man said Lavonne was his mother. She was at the Washoe County Medical Center. She had these bad asthma attacks.
The man remembered the murder. He was just a toddler then. He said he’d call his mother and prepare her.
He gave us directions to the hospital. We got there inside ten minutes. A nurse walked us to Lavonne Chambers’ room.
She was sitting up in bed. She had an oxygen tube in her nose. She didn’t look sick. She looked tough and sturdy.
She looked astonished.
Bill and I introduced ourselves. Bill stated his police affiliation. I said I was Jean Ellroy’s son. Lavonne Chambers stared at me. I shaved 36 years off of her and put her in a red-and-gold Stan’s Drive-in outfit. I felt a little shaky. I took a chair uninvited.
Bill sat down beside me. The bed was a few feet in front of us. I got out a notepad and pen. Lavonne said my mother was beautiful. Her voice was strong. She didn’t gasp or wheeze.
I thanked her. She said she felt so darn guilty. Carhops were supposed to jot down license plate numbers. The procedure helped the cops apprehend check dodgers. She never wrote down that plate number. My mother and the man looked respectable. She never regretted anything one iota as much.
I asked her how well she remembered that evening. She said she remembered it good. She used to replay her memories like a broken record. She wanted to be sure she remembered everything.
Bill asked her some background questions. I knew he was testing her. Her answers jibed with the background details in the file.
Bill said, Let’s go back. Lavonne said okay. She described my mother and the Swarthy Man for starters. She said my mother had red hair. She said she served my mother and the Swarthy Man twice. She couldn’t put their visits in chronological perspective. The cops thought the killer was local. She kept glancing around every night she worked at the drive-in. She kept her eyes peeled for years.
Bill mentioned the Bobbie Long murder. Lavonne said she didn’t know it. I said the same man might have killed Bobbie Long. Lavonne asked me when she was killed. I said 1/23/59. Lavonne said she talked to the cops all that summer. They fell out of touch way before January.
Bill mentioned the ’62 lineup. Lavonne’s memories clashed with established Blue Book facts. She said it was a one-man lineup. She said she was the only witness. She confirmed her basic Blue Book statement. She wasn’t sure the man she saw that day was the man with my mother.
Bill showed her two Jim Boss Bennett mug shots. She couldn’t place Jim Boss in any context. I showed her the two Identi-Kit portraits. She placed them immediately.
Bill said, Let’s go back. Lavonne said okay. She ran us through that night again. I interposed spatial questions. I wanted to know exactly where she was standing every time she saw the Swarthy Man. Lavonne said customers flashed their lights to signal for the check. I saw cars and darting high beams and Lavonne slinging trays and two-second profile blips of a man about to kill a woman.
I mentioned the Swarthy Man’s car. Bill cut me off. He asked Lavonne how well she knew cars back then. Most carhops knew all the makes and models. Did she know cars that well?
Lavonne said she was bad at cars. She was no good at distinguishing different makes and models. I saw where Bill was going. I asked Lavonne how she identified the Swarthy Man’s car.
Lavonne said she heard a news broadcast. The dead woman sounded like that redhead she served Saturday night. She stewed about it. She tried to remember the car the redhead was in. She talked to her boss. He pointed out different cars. She narrowed down the car that way.
I looked at Bill. He gave me the cutoff sign. He handed Lavonne a copy of the Jean Ellroy Blue Book and asked her to read through her statement. He said we’d be back later to discuss it.
Lavonne said we should come back after dinner. She told us to avoid the casinos. You just can’t beat the house odds.
We ate dinner at a steakhouse in the Reno Hilton. We discussed the car issue at length.
I said Lavonne’s car ID might be contaminated. Her boss might have confused her. Her Blue Book statement was emphatic. The Swarthy Man was driving a ’55 or ’56 Olds. Maybe Lavonne tagged the wrong car. Maybe the ID was faulty from the gate. Maybe Hallinen and Lawton got hip to the fact. Maybe that explained the low punch-card count in the file.
Bill said it was possible. Witnesses convinced themselves that certain things were true and stuck to their statements hell or high water. I asked him if we could check old car registration records. He said no. The information wasn’t computerized. The hand-filed records were destroyed a long time ago.
We finished our dinner and walked through the casino. I got a wild urge to shoot craps.
Bill explained the bets to make. The combinations confused me. I said “Fuck it” and put a hundred dollars on the pass line.
The shooter made four straight passes. I won $1,600.
I gave the croupier a hundred dollars and cashed in the res
t of my chips. Bill said I should change my name to Bobbie Long Jr.
Lavonne waited up for us. She said she read her old statement. It didn’t spark any fresh recollections.
I thanked her for her diligence—then and now. She said my mother really was very beautiful.
The Reno trip taught me some things. I learned how to talk in a soft register. I learned how to rein in aggressive body language.
Stoner was my teacher. I knew I was shaping my detective persona to his exact specifications. He knew how to subordinate his ego and make people tell him things. I wanted to develop that skill. I wanted to develop it fast. I wanted old people to tell me things before they died or went senile.
A reporter from the L.A. Weekly called me. She wanted to do a story on the new investigation. I asked her if she’d include a toll-free tip-line number. She said she would.
Bill’s Social Security contact reported. He said Jim Boss Bennett died of natural causes in 1979. Billy Farrington reported. He said Jack Lawton’s widow was still alive. She promised to check her garage for Jack’s old notebooks and call if she found them. The clerk at the Bureau called Bill. She said she received Michael Whittaker’s rap sheet. The sheet ran ten pages. She ran down the details.
They were pathetic and horrific. Whittaker was 60 years old now. He was a hophead, a hype and a 30-year junkie. He danced with my mother at the Desert Inn.
I met Bill at the Bureau. We discussed Whittaker.
Bill said he was probably up in Frisco or in jail somewhere. I said he might be dead from AIDS or general attrition. Bill told the clerk to run a public utilities check. He wanted to pin Whittaker down. We had to find him. We had to find Margie Trawick.
I got out our reverse book printout. I said I could call all our Margie Phillips numbers. Bill said we should run an employment check first.
I had the name and address memorized. Margie Trawick worked at Tubesales—2211 Tubeway Avenue. Bill checked a Thomas Guide. The address was five minutes away.
