Secrets & Lies (37 page)

The other day I went to see
Blue Hawaii
and stayed through it twice. It didn't cheer me up. Elvis is losing his bad boy image with
each passing year; I hate to say it, but he's becoming too sweet. I enjoyed the movie, though. It passed the time.

I talked to Barry today. He said the D.A. thinks the guns are moving again, but the police don't know who the mules are. Casazza and DeAngelo aren't using the Heathens anymore. A recently arrested gangster who allegedly works for Casazza told them that DeAngelo got fed up with the Heathens causing trouble with Los Serpientes. The war was clearly being escalated by the Heathens, so Casazza cut them off. This made the Heathens angry, and now they try to kill any Serpent they see on the street. The violence has increased tenfold. The D.A. wants to find out how the guns are now being distributed. Could the Italians be dealing with Los Serpientes now? Barry said there's no evidence of that. He believes Casazza is still in the counterfeit money business, too, and the Serpents are continuing to smuggle the stuff to Mexico. But very sophisticated counterfeit bills of higher denominations have also been showing up on our side of the border, so apparently that operation is going full steam.

I'm not working tonight, so I think the Stiletto will pay a visit to Tijuana Auto and see what I can find out.

It's a good thing I still have that box of Milk-Bone dog biscuits!

L
ATER—ACTUALLY, EARLY MORNING
D
ECEMBER
11, 1961

I'm glad to be home and in one piece.

The night started out with rain. The weather is usually great in Southern California, but every now and then it decides to rain, and when it does, it can be a downpour. Tonight was one of those.

Nevertheless, I drove my Sunliner—top up, of course—to that questionable part of town where Tijuana Auto is located. First, I simply drove by the shop to see if anything was going on. Surprisingly, there was a lot of activity. The Serpents were going in and out of the shop and clubhouse. Their motorcycles were lined up in front
next to a small truck. I parked my car across the street, but down a little ways where I could still see the open front gate of their lot, and I waited to see what would happen. I had on my outfit, covered by the trench coat, but hadn't donned my mask.

Sure enough, after twenty minutes or so, nine Serpents left the lot on their bikes, followed by the truck. Carlos Gabriel was one of them. I recognized him, even in the rain, which had dissipated to a drizzle. The cyclists wore helmets to protect their heads, but I'm sure they got soaking wet anyway. I had a hunch they were on a mission of some kind, so I started the car and pulled out after them, following from a safe distance. Barry had taught me how to tail someone without attracting attention. The trick was figuring out a distance between you and them that was far enough to be unnoticed, but close enough that you wouldn't lose them. It's not easy.

The bikers and the truck took Florence east a long, long way to Garfield Avenue and turned north. I'd never been that far east. After a while we were in the community of Alhambra. Then the caravan kept making turns, headed farther northeast, toward the San Gabriel Mountains. They were headed for canyon territory, where there wasn't much civilization, although there were signs of new development along the way. Much of it is mountainous with very few roads. The way the Los Angeles suburbs were expanding, I figured the area would be heavily populated within a decade. For now, though, I felt like I was in the boondocks. I was afraid the bikers would notice the lone car behind them, so I slowed down until I could barely see their taillights. If they turned off onto some remote street, they'd be gone.

I managed to keep them in sight, though, and eventually we were in the wilderness, surrounded by mountains and trees. It was dark, too, dear diary. I had the inclination to turn around and go home, but I didn't. They finally took a turn on a dirt road and descended into a canyon. I didn't want to follow in my car, so I stopped, stepped out, and watched the taillights descend the winding path to
a level plateau that was probably a half mile away. I couldn't drive there—they'd see me—so the next best thing was to creep down on foot. I got back in the car and drove it off the road to a patch of trees and parked behind them. It was safely obscured from view. I put on my mask and started the trek into the canyon. Before long, two more vehicles appeared on the road and headed toward the plateau. It was a good thing I'd hidden my car! They were two big vans, but it was too dark to see who was inside. I kept going with only the moonlight to show me the way. It was cold and wet, but the drizzling had ceased. My boots got very muddy. In ten minutes, I was on the edge of the meeting place, perhaps forty feet from the vehicles. I crouched behind a clump of brush that concealed me. Were there snakes or other dangerous creatures out there? Probably! My enhanced eyesight helped me make out shapes and objects on the ground, but I couldn't be terribly sure I wouldn't step on something. Perhaps the rain drove the critters away.

The bikers kept their headlights on, providing much needed illumination on the scene. That allowed me to clearly see what was happening. The men's voices drifted easily to my position as well, and my acute hearing picked up bits and pieces of conversation.

A white guy got out of each van. They wore rain slickers, which was quite incongruous compared to how the Serpents were dressed. They shook hands with Gabriel and a couple of his men. The newcomers looked familiar, but their backs were to me. When they turned to open the backs of the vans, though, I saw their faces.

Mr. Faretti and Mr. Capri. Casazza's men.

Two Serpents opened the back of their truck and my two canine friends, Bala and Hoja, jumped out. The dogs started romping around the spot, smelling the ground, and lifting their legs. Otherwise the truck was empty. Then I saw what the two vans contained. They were full of guns—rifles, handguns, and what appeared to be machine guns, the kind the army uses. The Serpents started removing the merchandise from the vans and loading them into their
truck. Every now and then a biker would take a weapon, try it out for size, look through the scope, and pretend to shoot something. Gabriel snapped at them to stop fooling around.

I dug out my camera. At that distance and with the poor lighting, I didn't know what kind of pictures I'd get, but I started snapping away. I was sure to capture the men carrying the weapons, and I even caught Gabriel handing Faretti a large, thick envelope. I wondered how much money paid for two vans full of illegal arms.

Then the dogs froze and turned in my direction—and started barking. Stupid me. They must have heard the clicking of my camera. Gabriel probably figured his pets had caught the scent of an animal, so he commanded them in Spanish to stop. They didn't. The dogs crept forward, growling and snarling, indicating to their master that a threat was nearby. Gabriel ordered them to stop once more, but then he had second thoughts. He spoke to two of his men, who drew handguns from beneath their jackets. After another charge to the dogs, the beasts started trotting toward my hiding place, followed by the gunmen.

I didn't wait for them. I took off running, which, of course, caused the dogs to bolt and chase me, barking like mad. The two men each fired shots in my direction, but luckily it was dark on the side of the canyon. To them I was just a black shape moving against darkness. The dogs could see me, though. I was pretty sure they were in such a frenzy that they wouldn't recognize me as their old friend. I was about to become their next meal.

Rather than scurry up the dirt path, which would have been suicide, I climbed up the side of a large boulder and made it to the top just as the beasts appeared at its base. They jumped and scratched and made all kinds of racket, but they couldn't ascend the rock. The men could, though. I heard them shouting to the dogs, coming closer. One man fired his gun again. He had no idea what he was aiming at, for the round ricocheted off the side of the cliff several feet away. I couldn't stay there, though, so I reached into my pocket, pulled out some dog biscuits, and tossed them to Hoja and Bala, literally showering
them with cookies. That certainly surprised them, for they stopped barking and started gobbling up the treats. Then I moved on, climbing up the side of the cliff to a ledge. I heard the men talking to the dogs. The animals whined when they realized they'd lost me. Nevertheless, there was another gunshot, this time striking a little closer. The men were firing blindly, hoping for a lucky hit. The bullet broke some of the ledge in front of me. Against the background of the illuminated meeting site, I saw the silhouette of a man climbing up the same boulder I had traversed. Nothing to do but keep climbing. Dear diary, I was used to climbing ladders and buildings and fences. A rock cliff face was a different ballgame altogether. My boots kept slipping on the wet surface, and it was extremely difficult to get handholds.

My best bet was to slip around an edge of the cliff, out of sight of the men. To do that, I had to reach another level. Looking back, I saw that my pursuer had made it to the top of the boulder. With no time to lose, I scurried over an outcrop of rock and stood on it. About ten feet above my head was a tree branch that seemed to stick out from the side of the canyon wall. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it prior to that, but I suddenly remembered I had a coiled rope on my belt. With the hook attached to its end, I swung the rope round and round like a lasso, and then cast it high. The hook latched onto the branch in one throw, thank goodness. I pulled on the rope to test my weight against the branch's strength. It held, so I climbed hand over hand until I slithered over the branch like a snake. I wormed my way into the thick of the tree, which was embedded oddly into the rock. After pulling my rope in and coiling it, I perched there, trying to keep as silent as possible. I could no longer see the plateau, the vehicles, or the men, but I could hear the dogs barking and whining and the bikers shouting. They knew someone had seen them.

The man who had climbed the cliff after me was directly below. I'm sure he saw the branch, but figured there was no way I could have reached it. He kept going laterally around the cliff face. After several minutes, I heard Gabriel call to him. The man shouted back.
He'd lost me. He eventually made his way back underneath me and returned to the boulder. Angry voices filled the air. Gabriel wasn't pleased. I don't know Spanish, but I'm sure some of the words he used weren't very nice, ha ha.

I was in that tree for thirty minutes before the bikers packed up and left, followed by the two vans. The procession moved up the road to the top of the canyon, and disappeared. I waited another fifteen minutes before slowly making my way out of the tree and down the cliff side. I was all alone. For a moment I stood there and took in my surroundings. In one way, the dark, wet canyon was creepy; in another, it was incredibly beautiful there in the moonlight. After thanking my lucky stars that I was in one piece, I made the trek back to my car along the muddy road.

Barry is going to be happy about my findings: the Casazza crew was now selling the guns to Los Serpientes.

D
ECEMBER
12, 1961

I met with Barry today and gave him the roll of film from my camera to develop. I warned him that the pictures might not be very good, but he said the police technicians would do what they could to make them clear. A lot of magic can be done in a darkroom. He paid me
300 and thanked me. That made me feel good, the best I've felt in a month.

But I still miss Leo. I wish I didn't, but I do. And that's all I have to write today.

1961

D
ECEMBER
27, 1961

Leo called today. I wasn't sure if I wanted to speak to him, but I did anyway. He said he wants to talk to me—in person. I'm off tomorrow night so I suggested he come over. He said he would. I'm a little nervous about it. Well, what happens is what happens. My heart's been broken before. Or maybe he's going to keep his promise to sell his business and run away with me, but I think that's highly unlikely. He said that facetiously.