L.A. Confidential (44 page)

  Vincennes smiled. He almost hit the chord--the old big-time Big V. "Suppose it goes bad?"

  "Then kill him."

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Opium fumes banged his head; chink backtalk banged it worse: "Spade not here, my place have police sanction, I pay I pay!" Uncle Ace Kwan sent him to Fat Dewey Shin, who sent him to a string of dens on Alameda--Spade was there, but Spade was gone, "I pay! I pay!," try Uncle Minh, Uncle Chin, Uncle Chan. The Chinatown runaround, it took him hours to figure it out, a shuffle from enemy to enemy. Uncle Danny Tao pulled a shotgun; he took it away from him, blackjacked him, still couldn't force a snitch. Spade was there, Spade was gone--and if he took one more whiff of "0" he knew he'd curl up and die or start shooting. The punch line: he was shaking Chinatown for a man named Cooley.

  Chinatown dead for now.

  Bud called the D.A.'s Bureau, gave the squad whip his Perkins/Cooley leads; the man yawned along, signed off bored. Out to the Strip; the Cowboy Rhythm Band on stage, no Spade, nobody had seen him in a couple of days. Hillbilly clubs, local bars, night spots--no sightings of Donnell Clyde Cooley. 1:00 fucking A.M., no place to go but Lynn's--"Where _were_ you?" and a bed.

  Rain came on--a downpour. Bud counted taillights to stay awake: red dots, hypnotizing. He made Nottingham Drive near gone--dizzy, numb in the limbs.

  Lynn on her porch, watching the rain. Bud ran up; she held her arms out. He slipped, steadied himself with her body.

  She stepped back. Bud said, "I was worried. I kept calling you last night before things got crazy."

  "Crazy how?"

  "The morning, it's too long a story for now. How did it--" Lynn touched his lips. "I told them things about Pierce that you already know, and I've been getting misty with the rain and thinking about telling them more."

  "More what?"

  "I'm thinking that it's over with Pierce. In the morning, sweetie. Both our stories for breakfast."

  Bud leaned on the porch rail. Lightning lit up the street--and dry tears on Lynn's face. "Honey, what is it? Is it Exley? Did he hardnose you?"

  "It's Exley, but not what you're thinking. And I know why you hate him so much."

  "What do you mean?"

  "That he's just the opposite of all the good things you are. He's more like I am."

  "I don't get it."

  "Well, it's a credibility he has for being so calculating. I started out hating him because you do, then he made me realize some things about Pierce just by being who he is. He told me some things he didn't have to, and my own reactions surprised me."

  More lightning--Lynn looked god-awful sad. Bud said, "For instance?"

  "For instance Jack Vincennes is going crazy and has some kind of vendetta against Pierce. And I don't care half as much as I should."

  "How did you get so friendly with Exley?"

  Lynn laughed. "_In vino veritas_. You know, sweetie, you're thirty-nine years old and I keep waiting for you to get exhausted being who you are."

  "I'm exhausted tonight."

  "That's not what I meant."

  Bud turned on the porch light. "You gonna tell me what happened with you and Exley?"

  "We just talked."

  Her makeup was tear streaked--it was the first time he'd seen her not beautiful. "So tell me about it."

  "In the morning."

  "No, now."

  "Honey, I'm as tired as you are."

  Her little half smile did it. "You slept with him."

  Lynn looked away. Bud hit her--once, twice, three times. Lynn faced straight into the blows. Bud stopped when he saw he couldn't break her.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  IAD--packed.

  Chester Yorkin, the Fleur-de-Lis delivery man, stashed in booth --1; in 2 and 3: Paula Brown and Lorraine Malvasi, Patchett whores--Ava Gardner, Rita Hayworth. Lamar Hinton, Bobby Inge, Christine Bergeron and son could not be located; ditto the smut posers--Fisk and Kleckner failed to make them from extensive mugbook prowls. In booth 4: Sharon Kostenza, real name Mary Alice Mertz, a plum off Vincennes' deposition-- the woman who once bailed Bobby Inge out of jail and paid a surety bond for Chris Bergeron. In booth 5: Dr. Terry Lux, his attorney--the great Jerry Geisler.

  Ray Pinker standing by with counterdope--so far none of the new fish looked drugged.

  Two officers guarding the squadroom--private interrogations--strict l.A. autonomy.

  Kleckner and Fisk grilling Mertz and pseudo Ava--armed with deposition copies, smut photos, a case summary. Yorkin, Lux and phony Rita cooling their heels.

  Ed worked in his office: draft three of Vincennes' script. A thought nagged him: if Lynn Bracken reported to Patchett in full, he would have yanked his people before the police could bring them in--the way Inge, Bergeron and son disappeared immediately pre--Nite Owl. Two possibles on that--she was playing an angle or their rutting had her confused and she was stalling to figure the upshot. Most likely the former--the woman cut her last confused breath at birth.

  He could still taste her.

  Ed drew lines on paper. Inez to check Dieterling connections to Patchett and his father--that thought still made him wince. Two l.A. men out looking for White--apprehend the bastard and break him. Billy Dieterling and Timmy Valburn to be questioned--kid gloves, they had prestige, juice. A line to the Hudgens kill and the Hudgens/Patchett "gig"--Vincennes' deposition stated that Hudgens' _Badge of Honor_ files were missing at the time of his death, anomalous, the show was a Hudgens fixation. The _Badge of Honor_ people were alibied for the murder--but another reading of the case file was in order.

  Half his maze of cases read extortion.

  Line to an outside issue--Dudley Smith, going crazy for a quick Darktown collar. Line to a rumor: Thad Green was going to take over the U.S. Border Patrol come May. A theoretical line: Parker would choose his new chief of detectives solely on the basis of the Nite Owl case--him or Smith. Dudley might send White back to break his autonomy; criss cross all lines to keep his case sealed.

  Kleckner walked in. "Sir, the Mertz woman won't cooperate. All she'll say is that she lives under that Sharon Kostenza alias and that she makes bail for Patchett's people when they get arrested for outside charges. Nobody's ever been arrested working for him, we know that. She says she can't ID the people in the photos and she's mum on that extortion angle you told me to play up. She deadpanned the Nite Owl--and I believe her."

  "Release her, I want her to go to Patchett and panic him. What did Duane get off Ava Gardner?"

  Kleckner passed him a sheet of paper. "Lots. Here's the high points, and he's got the actual interview on tape."

  "Good. You go soften up Yorkin for me. Bring him a beer and baby sit him."

  Kleckner walked out smiling. Ed read Fisk's memo.

  Witness Paula Brown 3/25/58

  1. Witness revealed names of numerous P.P. call girl/male prostitute customers (specifics to follow in separate memo & on tape)

  2. Could not ID people in photos (seems truthful on this)

  3. Extortion hook got her talking

  a. P.P. gave his girls/male prostitutes bonuses to get their customers to reveal intimate details of their lives

  b. P.P. makes his prosts quit at 30 (apparent bee in his bonnet)

  c. On in-home prostitution assignments, P.P. had prosts leave doors/windows open so men with cameras could take compromising photos. Prosts also made wax impressions of locks on certain rich casts doors

  d. P.P. had famous (T. Lux obviously) plastic surgeon cut male/female prosts to look like movie stars and thus make more $

  e. Male prosts extorted $ from married homosexual custs & split take with P.P.

  f. Bored by Nite Owl quests (obviously has no guilty knowledge)

  Astounding audacious perversion.

  Ed hit sweatbox row, checked the mirrors. Fisk and phony Ava talking; Kleckner and Yorkin drinking beer. Terry Lux reading a magazine, Jerry Geisler fuming. Lorraine Malvasi alone in a cloud of smoke. Astounding audacious perversion--the woman had Rita Hayworth's face down to the bone, up to the hairdo from _Gilda_.

  He opened the door. Rita/Lorraine stood up, sat down, lit a cigarette. Ed handed her Fisk's memo. "Please read this, Miss Malvasi."

  She read, chewing lipstick. "So?"

  "So do you confirm that or not?"

  "So I'm entitled to a lawyer."

  "Not for seventy-two hours."

  "You can't hold me here that long."

  "Caaant"--a bad New York accent. "Not here, but we can hold you at the Woman's Jail."

  Lorraine bit at a nail, drew blood. "You caan't."

  "Sure I can. Sharon Kostenza's in custody, so she can't make bail for you. Pierce Patchett is under surveillance and your friend Ava just spilled what you read there. She talked first, and all I want you to do is fill in some blanks."

  A little sob. "I caan't."

  "Why not?"

  "Pierce has been too nice to--"

  Cut her off. "Pierce is finished. Lynn Bracken turned state's on him. She's in protective custody, and I can go to her for the answers or save myseW the trouble and ask you."

  "I caaan't."

  "You can and you will."

  "No, I caaan't."

  "You'd better, because you're an accessory to eleven felonies in Paula Brown's statement alone. Are you afraid of the dykes at the jail?"

  No answer.

  "You should be, but the matrons are worse. Big husky bull daggers with nightsticks. You know what they do with those--"

  "All right all right all right! All right I'll tell you!"

  Ed took out a notepad, wrote "Chrono." Lorraine: "It's not Pierce's fault. This guy made him do it."

  "What guy?"

  "I don't know. Really, for real, I don't know."

  "Chrono" underlined. "When did you start working for Patchett?"

  "When I was twenty-one."

  "Give me the year."

  "1951."

  "And he had Terry Lux perform surgery on you?"

  "Yes! To make me more beautiful!"

  "Easy now, please. Now a second ago you said that a guy--"

  "I don't know who the guy is! I caan't tell you what I don't know!"

  "Sssh, please. Now, you confirmed Paula Brown's statement and you said that a 'guy,' _whose identity you don't know_, coerced Patchett into the extortion plans detailed in that statement. Is that correct?"

  Lorraine put out her cigarette, lit another one. "Yes. Extortion is like blackmail, right, so yes."

  "When, Lorraine? Do you know _when_ 'this guy' approached Patchett?"

  She counted on her fingers. "Five years ago, May."

  "Chrono" hard underlined. "That's May of 1953?"

  "Yeah, 'cause my father died that month. Pierce called us kids in and said we had to do it, he didn't want to, but this guy had him by the you-know-whats. He didn't say the guy's name and I don't think none of the other kids know it either."

  "Chrono" one month post--Nite Owl. "Think fast, Lorraine. The Nite Owl massacre. Remember that?"

  "What? Some people got shot, right?"

  "Never mind. What else did Patchett tell you when he called you in?"

  "Nothing."

  "_Nothing_ else on Patchett and extortion? Remember, I'm not asking you if you did any of this. I'm not asking you to incriminate yourself."

  "Well, maybe three months or so before that I heard Veronica--I mean Lynn--and Pierce talking. He said him and that scandal mag man who got killed later were gonna run this squeeze thing where Pierce would tell him about our clients' secret little . . - you know, fetishes, and the man would threaten the clients with being in _Hush-Hush_. You know, pay money or be in the scandal mag."

  _Extortion theory validated_. An instinct: on some level Lynn was playing straight, she hadn't told Patchett to prepare--he never would have let these people come in. "Lorraine, did Sergeant Kieckner show you some pornographic pictures?"

  A nod. "I told him and I'll tell you. I don't know any of the people and those pictures gave me the creeps."

  Ed walked out. Duane Fisk in the hallway. "Good work, sir. When you got her on that 'this guy' bit, I went back and ran it by Ava. She confirmed it and confirmed that no ID."

  Ed nodded. "Tell her that Rita and Yorkin have been booked, then release her. I want her to go back to Patchett. How's Kieckner doing with Yorkin?"

  Fisk shook his head. "That boy's a hardcase. He's practically daring Don to make him talk. Hey, where's Bud White now that we need him?"

  "Amusing, but don't keep it up. And right now I want you to take Lux and Geisler to lunch. Lux is here voluntarily, so be nice. Tell Geisler that this is a multiple homicide major conspiracy case, and tell him Lux gets full collateral immunity for his cooperation and a signed promise of no courtroom testimony. Tell him it's already in writing, and if he wants verification to call Ellis Loew."

  Fisk nodded, walked down to booth 5. Ed checked the #1 look-in.

  Chester Yorkin wising off at the mirror: making faces, flipping the bird. Skinny, a pompadour flopped over his eyes oozing grease. Welts on his arms--maybe old needle marks.

  Ed opened the door. Yorkin said, "Hey, I know you. I read about you."

  Tracks confirmed--scar tissue on the welts. "I've been in the news."

  Giggle, giggle. "This is an old one, _kemo sabe_. Something like you saying, 'I never hit suspects 'cause that's the cop lowered to the level of the criminal.' You wanta hear my answer? I never snitch, 'cause cops are all cocksuckers who get their cookies off making guys talk."

  "You through?"--Bud White's stock line.

  "No. Your father takes it up the ass from Moochie Mouse."

  Scared, but he did it--an elbow to the windpipe. Yorkin gasped; Ed got behind him, cuffed him, shoved him to the floor.

  Scared, but steady hands: look, Dad, no fear.

  Yorkin backed into a corner.

  Scared, another Bad Bud move: a chair, a roundhouse swing, the chair smashed to the wall just above the suspect's head. Yorkin tried to squirm away; Ed kicked him back to his corner. Slow now: don't let your voice break, don't let your eyes go soft behind your glasses. "_Everything_. I want to know about the smut and the other shit you push through Fleur-de-Lis. _Everything_. You start with those tracks on your arms and why a smart man like Patchett trusts a junkie like you. And you know one thing right now--Patchett is finished and I'm the only one who can cut you a deal. _Do you understand me?_"