RED SHEET

In which Richard Nixon meets a soon-to-be-dead woman in a “commie safe house,” and a strange game is afoot.

Ellroy always packs a tremendous amount of detail and a large dramatis personae into his potboilers, and this one is no exception. In his third novel to star Freddy Otash—criminal turned police officer, unredeemed dope addict and boozer, and all-around bull in a china shop—Ellroy turns in a loopy narrative full of real-life criminals, cops, and other figures from LA history, including Daryl Gates, Dalton Trumbo, H.R. Haldeman, and Nixon himself. The setup: the Cuban Missile Crisis has just passed, and an ambitious Robert Kennedy—“Ratfuck Bob Kennedy,” Otash calls him—has ordered up a Red Scare to divert attention from the news that Marilyn Monroe has died in a scenario with unpleasant hints of connection to both himself and his brother, the president. Enter “SHIT—­the Sheriff’s Handpicked Intelligence Team” and Ellroy’s players are soon pulling dossiers on half the city, including Nixon, who, it soon develops, “is embroiled in a horrific sex snuff.” Said snuff involves two Communist Party stalwarts who ratted out Alger Hiss to Nixon and were dispatched following a failed shakedown, killed, perhaps, by four very bad brothers who “were big priest-killers and nun-rapers during the Spanish Civil War.” That war isn’t the only conflict to be evoked; one attorney on the make hopes to revive Mexico’s little-known Cristero Rebellion to wreak vengeance on the anti-clerical Reds. As if all that weren’t enough, Ellroy populates his yarn with the likes of a strung out Hugh Hefner, the Lindbergh baby kidnapping (and an appearance by Charles Lindbergh himself), commies turned into John Birchers, and musical cameos by Quincy Jones and folk singer Judy Henske. The upshot? Kvetches Otash, “Richard Nixon still owes me thirty grand.”

A head-spinning carom of a book, and a lot of fun amid all the blood and mayhem.