The Glitter Dome - Joseph Wambaugh - ebook
Opis

It's the wildest bar in Chinatown, run by a proprietor named Wing who will steal your bar change every chance he gets. On payday the groupies mingle there with off-duty LAPD cops, including homicide detectives Martin Welborn and Al Mackey, who get assigned the case of a murdered Hollywood studio boss who may have been involved in some very strange and dangerous filmmaking. Review Quote. "Let us dispel forever the notion that Mr. Wambaugh is only a former cop who happens to write books ... This would be tantamount to saying that Jack London was first and foremost a sailor. Mr. Wambaugh is, in fact, a writer of genuine power, style, wit and originality." - The New York Times Book Review "Wambaugh's cops, like the soldiers in Catch-22, are men and women in a frenzy, zany grotesques made that way by the outrageous nature of the things they deal with." - Los Angeles Times Book Review "[Wambaugh is] a good writer who becomes better with each successive book." - The Detroit News "Wambaugh sidesteps all the clichés." - The Baltimore Sun Biographical Note. The son of a policeman, Joseph Wambaugh (b. 1937) began his writing career while a member of the Los Angeles Police Department. He joined the LAPD in 1960 after three years in the Marine Corps, and rose to the rank of detective sergeant before retiring in 1974. His first novel, The New Centurions (1971), was a quick success, drawing praise for its realistic action and intelligent characterization, and was adapted into a feature film starring George C. Scott. He followed it up with The Blue Knight (1972), which was adapted into a mini-series starring William Holden and Lee Remick. Since then Wambaugh has continued writing about the LAPD. He has been credited with a realistic portrayal of police officers, showing them not as superheroes but as men struggling with a difficult job, a depiction taken mainstream by television's Police Story, which Wambaugh helped create in the mid-1970s. In addition to novels, Wambaugh has written nonfiction, winning a special Edgar Award for 1974's The Onion Field, an account of the longest criminal trial in California history. His most recent work is the novel Hollywood Moon (2010).

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Contents

Cover

About the Book

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

1: The Giltter Dome

2: The Altar Boy

3: The Business

4: The Baby Mogul

5: The Street Monsters

6: Just Plain Bill

7: The Empty Cathedral

8: Gloria La Marr

9: Mr. Wheels

10: Tuna Can Tommy

11: The Gunfighter

12: Jackin Jill

13: The Burbank Bomber

14: Mr. Silver

15: The Screaming Cowbirds

16: The Performers

17: Danny Meadows

18: The Crimson Slippers

19: Flameout Farrell

20: Apple Valley

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Cover

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About the Author

The son of a policeman, Joseph Wambaugh (b. 1937) began his writing career while a member of the Los Angeles Police Department. He joined the LAPD in 1960 after three years in the Marine Corps, and rose to the rank of detective sergeant before retiring in 1974. His first novel, The New Centurions (1971), was a quick success, drawing praise for its realistic action and intelligent characterization, and was adapted into a feature film starring George C. Scott. He followed it up with The Blue Knight (1972), which was adapted into a mini-series starring William Holden and Lee Remick.

Since then Wambaugh has continued writing about the LAPD. He has been credited with a realistic portrayal of police officers, showing them not as superheroes but as men struggling with a difficult job, a depiction taken mainstream by television’s Police Story, which Wambaugh helped create in the mid-1970s. In addition to novels, Wambaugh has written nonfiction, winning a special Edgar Award for 1974’s The Onion Field, an account of the longest criminal trial in California history. His most recent work is the novel Hollywood Moon (2010).

About the Book

It’s the wildest bar in Chinatown, run by a proprietor named Wing who will steal your bar change every chance he gets. On payday the groupies mingle there with off-duty LAPD cops, including homicide detectives Martin Welborn and Al Mackey, who get assigned the case of a murdered Hollywood studio boss who may have been involved in some very strange and dangerous filmmaking. Hilarious at times, heartbreaking at others, this book was likened by the New York Daily News to a “one-two combination that leaves the reader reeling.”

Review quote

“Let us dispel forever the notion that Mr. Wambaugh is only a former cop who happens to write books. . . . This would be tantamount to saying that Jack London was first and foremost a sailor. Mr. Wambaugh is, in fact, a writer of genuine power, style, wit and originality.” —The New York Times Book Review

“Wambaugh’s cops, like the soldiers in Catch-22, are men and women in a frenzy, zany grotesques made that way by the outrageous nature of the things they deal with.” —Los Angeles Times Book Review

“[Wambaugh is] a good writer who becomes better with each successive book.” —The Detroit News

“Wambaugh sidesteps all the clichés.” —The Baltimore Sun

The Glitter Dome

Joseph Wambaugh

 

BASTEI ENTERTAINMENT

 

Bastei Entertainment is an imprint of Bastei Lübbe AG

 

Copyright © 2014 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Schanzenstraße 6-20, 51063 Cologne, Germany

 

For the original edition:

Copyright © 2011 by The Mysterious Press, LLC, 58 Warren Street, New York, NY. U.S.A.

 

On the epigraph page, the entire lyrics of the song “In Hollywood!”—words and music by Ian Whitcomb. Copyright 1977 by IAN WHITCOMB SONGS, A BMI Company, c/o The Elaine Markson Literary Agency, Inc., 44 Greenwich Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10011

Lines from the song “Shall We Dance” by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II

Copyright 1951 by Richard Rodgers & Oscar Hammerstein II

Copyright renewed

Williamson Music, Inc., owner of publication and allied rights throughout the Western Hemisphere & Japan

International Copyright Secured

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Used by permission

 

Copyright © 1981 by Joseph Wambaugh

 

Project management: Lori Herber

Cover adaptation: Christin Wilhelm, www.grafic4u.de

Cover design by Jason Gabber

 

E-book production: Jouve Germany GmbH & Co. KG

 

ISBN 978-3-95859-014-4

 

www.luebbe.de

www.bastei-entertainment.com

 

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this e-book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

A perverse thank you to those in The Business, who, during a two-year Passage To Hollywood, imbued the author with sufficient venom to produce this book.

and

A humble thank you to Jay Allen, Harold Becker, Jeanne Bernkopf, Jack Herron, John Sturgeon, who helped the author complete the Passage, relatively intact.

IN HOLLYWOOD!

Where is the place that they all like to go?It’s Hollywood.

Jack ’n’ Jill, Bruce and Bill, Farrah and BoGo Hollywood.

Down on the boulevard Saturday night,

You’ve never seen such a colorful sight,

But make sure that you roll up your windows real tightIn Hollywood.

Where are there so many hustling stars?In Hollywood.

Stuck in the sidewalk or parking your cars—That’s Hollywood.

Most every moment you’ll hear sirens scream;

Follow the cop cars—you’ll soon reach the scene

And you’re bound to end up on the big or small screenIn Hollywood.

In the tradition of countless marinesGo Hollywood.

Tuck your equipment in super-tight jeans,Go Hollywood.

Saunter the boulevard, you’re out for hire,

Milk all you can out of old men’s desire,

’Cause in just a few years you’ll find you are the buyer—That’s Hollywood!

—SONG BY IAN WHITCOMB

1

The Glitter Dome

It was six inches long. He stroked it lightly, but he could not conjure an appropriate response: eroticism, revulsion, fascination, terror. He had read it described in a hundred melodramatic and pathetic suicide notes. Technology had even infiltrated death messages: So far this year four farewells were transmitted on taped cassettes, the ultimate proof of declining literacy.

It was dark and cool in the tiny kitchen. The formica tabletop was greasy and wet from the spillage of Tullamore Dew. He stroked the thing again. It had hung on his body for too long. More of a cock than the other one. He used it once a month as required by the Los Angeles Police Department. He had tried to use the other one this very night. The fifth of Tullamore Dew was nearly empty. He should be anesthetized. He’d nearly died and all he could think of was his cock. But the memory of the misfire hurt.

Even the Pacific Ocean had the sweats that night. The offshore breeze was hot and wet. He ought to have turned and left The Glitter Dome the moment he entered. It was just nine o’clock, yet there they were, perched at the long bar like Mother Carey’s chickens.

Chinatown gave him a headache, especially on those two nights a month when The Glitter Dome was jammed with chickens, yet that was why he was here. Police payday.

He had retreated utterly to the bosom of the cop “family.” To The Glitter Dome. To kaleidoscopic colors: greens, yellows, reds, all of which he hated. To chaotic winking lights and leering neon messages. To winking groupies (seldom at him) and leering young cops plucking the chickens from their tentative perches at that long, long bar.

The hysteria was palpable. The Glitter Dome was teeming, smoky, loud. A dozen couples bumped and banged together on a parqueted dance floor hardly larger than a king-size bed. And it may as well have been a bed: Three of the groping, licking, grinding pairs of cops and chickens had managed everything but penetration.

He had known he should leave. He thought about leaving. But his legs were hurting from a game of handball at the police academy. His stupid idea, to provide some badly needed diversion for his partner, Martin Welborn, who, after his marital separation, had become morose, distant, burned out, eerie. They’d been partners for three years and he was suddenly scared for Marty Welborn.

So if it hadn’t been for his friendship with Marty Welborn, and the handball, and the sore legs, he would not have almost died this night. He was ready to leave when one of the chickens (this one more of a vulture) was plucked from her stool by a cop he knew, a street monster named Buckmore Phipps who patrolled Hollywood Boulevard with the subtlety of a Russian gunship.

“Whaddaya know, whaddaya say?” Buckmore Phipps grinned, baring thirty-two donkey teeth, amazingly still intact, given the way this street monster did business on the boulevard. “If it ain’t Aloysius Mackey. Welcome to the Bay of Pigs.”

Then Buckmore Phipps was off to the dance floor with his boozy vulture, probably a record clerk. Al Mackey had gotten so he could tell the record clerks from the communications operators even before they opened their mouths. The policewomen were most easily identifiable: They evinced all the cynicism of their male counterparts.

So there was an empty barstool, and his legs hurt, and he had a sudden yen for three fingers of Tullamore Dew. He pointed to the bottle of Irish whiskey and nodded to Wing, the proprietor. With his overlong neck, and hollow eyes, and small head with sparse tufts of slicked-down hair sprung loose on each side like antennae, Wing looked for all the world like a praying mantis hopping around behind the long bar, his bony arms extending from his emerald mandarin jacket. Wing was a third-generation American who affected a Chinese accent and obsequious demeanor for daytime tourists. Nothing was as it seemed in The Glitter Dome.

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!