Destination by James Ellroy

right. He’s bloody now. He goes to the master bedroom. He grabs two towels. He wipes himself off. He goes out the back door. He hits the patio. He drops the towels on a chaise lounge. He goes out the back gate. He’s on Sawyer Street. He’s gone.
    And—feature this:
    Stephanie dies in Cheryl’s bedroom. A sibling resemblance exists. Was
she
the intended vic?
    The Gorman job faded out newswise. Postriot shit upstaged it. Stephanie got brief coverage. It played up her good-girl status. She was young, bright, lovely. She got straight A’s. She was Hami Hi “in” crowd. She was movie-mad. She got extra gigs in
Pollyanna
and
Bye Bye Birdie.
    The detectives slogged. They issued a bulletin. It featured a crime summary and the peeper sketch. It went out 8/24/65. It went to the Feds and PDs nationwide. LAPD got kickbacks: similar MOs/divergent MOs/MOs off the beam. Rape-os, rape-o killers, bondage rape-os. Burglar rape-os, knife rape-os, gun rape-os, child rape-os, girl rape-os, woman rape-os, old lady rape-os.
    Some freaks resembled the sketch. Most freaks didn’t. George Iwasaki viewed nationwide mug shots and nixed them. They got no print matches. They got no ballistic matches. They got more phone tips and more letters. They cleared three hundred suspects. They issued bulletin #2. They sent slug and shell samples to the FBI and CII. Bulletin #2 begged for comparison slugs and shells. It featured the four-print blow-up. It begged for kickbacks: All suspects known or in stir.
    No matches. Straight kickback zeros.
    The Feds had a slug and shell. Ditto CII. LAPD retained two. The bulletin hit Canada and Mexico. Shit: no matches, more zeros.
    The detectives slogged. They reinterviewed Stephanie’s classmates. They reconfirmed her good-girl status. They interviewed Cheryl’s male friends. They cleared them. They checked West L.A. FI cards. They braced Beverlywood freaks. They torqued wienie waggers, jailbait johnnies, glue sniffers, hopheads, and public jackoff freaks. They cleared them. They cleared local delivery-men. They cleared Ed Gorman’s Negro ex-gardener. They cleared suspicious Negroes. They cleared rape-jacket Negroes citywide.
    The Gormans were fine people. Ed was a fine lawyer. He had no enemies. His reputation gleamed. He served his synagogue selflessly. Julie’s rep gleamed. The “good-girl” Gorman sisters were unassailably thus. They did not provoke or dick-tease. They did not backyard-sunbathe provocatively. Stephanie frequented the Standard Club. She wore demure outfits. She never wore revealing bikinis.
    The Shoe-Tree Rapist—still at large. The Remorseful Rapist— likewise. Likewise
très
many sick humps.
    THE GORMAN JOB slogged on. The Gorman job slogged on full-speed.
    It was proactive. It was reactive. It ran tangential. It ran straight ahead. It was footwork and filework and gruntwork. It was a full-fledged freak symphony.
    They got call-ins. A local girl ratted off a local “wino type.” She said he resembled the sketch. George Iwasaki saw him and nixed him. No print match/no viable gun stats. The Green Bay, Wisconsin, PD called. They had a local freak.
He
resembled the sketch. Iwasaki nixed a mug shot. No print match
—adieu.
    Doc Kade called. He had late test results.
The vaginal and rectal semen tests: inconclusive. Plus: no other foreign fluids present/no
sperm isolate.
    They cleared a Crest Drive wienie wagger. He flashed his shvantz from his balcony. Crest Drive adjoined Hillsboro and Sawyer. They cleared a freak nicknamed “Wino.” He forged prescriptions. He popped goofballs. He habituated the Mar Vista Bowl. He pushed mary jane to kids. They checked out a 6/4/64 case. A freak kidnapped a Hami Hi girl. It was bold and streetside.
    He flashed a knife. He made her get in his car. He made her disrobe. He kissed her breasts. He let her go.
    That one went nowhere. One still-at-large freak.
    They checked out a 3/12/65