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Bud White in an unmarked, watching the "1951" on the City Hall Christmas tree blink.
He always shot up by TV light.
Thundershowers hit just before midnight, drowning out the horn honks and noisemaker blare that usually signalled New Year's on the Strip, bringing 1950 to the West Hollywood Substation in a wave of hot squeals with meat wagon backup.
Some kids found her.
They sent him to Dallas to kill a niger pimp named Wendell Durfee.
Dusenberry's estimated body count was low, and Warden Wardlow's stone metaphor only partly accurate.
Wacky and I had been partners for three months when Night Train entered our lives.