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NIGHTFALL BEGAN TO cover the sky in soot before Ray made his trek down to Lindberg Park, but he didn’t dare start his journey without consulting Crispy Morgan first. Even on the streets there was a hierarchy, a protocol for achieving certain gains, much like the gang system in a prison. Beating an answer out of a scumbag solicitor worked on occasion, but sometimes going through the proper channels was the way to get things done. Ray had heard too many stories and knew he couldn’t go down to Lindberg blindly. He had to play by the rules.
Where Beverly Hills swoops around to the underside of West Hollywood, Peter “Crispy” Morgan held court at the far end of a Mobil station, monopolizing one of the few remaining public pay phones in Los Angeles. Crispy was a barterer; reveling i
