L.A. Confidential (49 page)

  Trash laughed. "Grand, lad, grand. And all the hits were paving the way for Dud to push Patchett's heroin. He got the command on the reopening so he could find some new patsies, and he's set to push the horse. He's got the smut stashed, and he didn't warn Patchett about the investigation because he was already planning to kill him. He didn't touch Lynn Bracken, because he figured Patchett kept her in the dark on all his worst stuff. He let her come in for questioning because he figured she'd stall Exley's part of the investigation."

  Lynn Bracken.

  Ed winced, moved toward the door. "And we still don't know who made the smut and killed Hudgens. Or the Englekling brothers, which doesn't look like a pro job. White, you went up to Gaitsville with Dudley, and he submitted a soft-pedal report on--"

  "It was another psycho job. Heroin lying around, and the killer just left it. He tortured the brothers with chemicals and burned up a bunch of smut negatives with acid solutions. The lab tech said he thought the killer was trying to ID the people in the pictures. The chemistry stuff made me think Patchett, but then I thought he must've already known who the picture people were. I don't really think their heroin ties to our heroin, the brothers were dope peddlers on and off for years. Chemists and dope peddlers, and if Patchett wanted their dope, he would've stolen it. I think the brothers got killed by somebody, I don't know, outside the center of this mess."

  Trash sighed. "_There's no evidence_. Patchett and the whole Englekling family are dead, and Dud probably killed Lamar Hinton. You got nothing at the Fleur-de-Lis drop and White's little grandstand with Stompanato and Teitlebaum means that now Dudley's been alerted and he's taking care of _his_ loose ends. I don't think we've got much of a case."

  Ed thought it through. "Chester Yorkin told me Patchett had a booby-trapped safe outside his house. The house is being guarded now, the West L.A. squad has a team on it. In a day or so, I'll go lift the guards. There might be something in that safe that nails Dudley."

  White said, "So right now, what? No evidence, and Stompanato's leaving for Acapulco today with Lana Turner. What now?"

  Ed opened the door--Fisk was outside drinking coffee. "Duane, get back in touch with Valburn, Stanton, Billy Dieterling and Pelts. Change the meeting to the downtown Statler at 8:00. Call the hotel and set up three suites and call Bob Gallaudet and tell him to call me here--tell him it's urgent."

  Fisk went for a phone. Vincennes said, "You're hitting the Hudgens end."

  Ed turned away from White. "_Think_. Dudley's a policeman. We need evidence, and we may get it tonight."

  "I'll take Stanton. We used to be friends."

  Line it--a Dieterling kid star, Preston Exley. "No . . . I mean are you up to it?"

  "It's my case too, Captain. I've come this far, and I went up against Patchett for you and damn near got killed."

  Weigh the risk. "All right, you take Stanton."

  Trash rubbed his face--pale, stubbled. "Did I . . . I mean when Karen was here and I was unconscious . . . did I . .

  "She doesn't know anything you don't want her to. Now go home, I want to talk to White."

  Vincennes walked out--ten years older in a day. White said, "The Hudgens end is bullshit. It's all Dudley now."

  "No. First we buy some time."

  "Protecting Daddy? Jesus, and I thought I was dumb on women."

  "_Just think_. Think what Dudley is and what taking him down means. Think, and I'll make you a deal."

  "I told you _never_."

  "You'll like this one. You keep quiet about my father and the Atherton case and I'll let you have Dudley and Perkins."

  White laughed. "The collars? I got them anyway."

  "No. I'll let you kill them."

CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Exley's rule rankled: no hitting, Billy and Timmy were too upscale to take muscle. Hotel good guy/bad guy rankled--they should be muscling Dudley at the Victory. Bob Gallaudet took Max Pelts; Trashcan was grilling Miller Stanton. Gallaudet got briefed by Exley--everything but the Atherton angle. He thought he could prosecute Dudley Smith, Exley didn't tell him Dud and Deuce Perkins were paid for. Fucking Exley wouldn't let him out of his sight--he took him through every piece of the case step by step, like they were partners who could trust each other. The case all put together was amazing, Exley had an amazing fucking brain--but he was stupid if he didn't know one thing: after Dudley and Deuce, Preston E. was next. Easy: Dick Stens wouldn't have it otherwise.

  Bud watched--a crack in the bathroom doorway.

  The queers sat side by side; Mr. Good Guy pussyfooted. Yes, they bought Fleur-de-Lis dope; yes, they knew Pierce Patchett "socially." Yes, Pierce snorted "H," we heard rumors he sold pornographic books--but we never indulged in such things. Kid gloves: the fruits thought the Patchett snuff was why they got the royal hotel treatment. Captain Exley would never be nasty-- Preston Exley was running for governor, Ray Dieterling throwing hot financial backup.

  Exley, loud. "Gentlemen, there's an old homicide that might tie in to the Patchett killing."

  Bud walked in. Exley said, "This is Sergeant White. He has a few questions for you, then I think we can wrap it up."

  Timmy Valburn sighed. "Well, I'm not surprised. Miller Stanton and Max Pelts are down the hall, and the last time the police questioned all of us was when that awful man Sid Hudgens was killed. So _I'm_ not surprised."

  Bud pulled a chair up. "Why'd you say 'awful'? You kill him?"

  "Oh, Sergeant _really_. Do I look like the killer type to you?"

  "Yeah, you do. Guy who makes his living playing a mouse has gotta be capable of anything."

  "Sergeant, _really_."

  "Besides, _you_ weren't called in on the Hudgens job. Billy tell you about it? A little pillow talk, maybe?"

  Billy Dieterling to Exley. "Captain, I don't like this man's tone."

  Exley said, "Sergeant, keep it clean."

  Bud laughed. "That's the pot calling the kettle black, but screw it. You guys alibied each other for Hudgens, now it's five years later and you alibi each other up for Patchett. Hinky to me. My take on fruits is that they can't stick to the same bed for five minutes, let alone five years."

  Valburn: "You're an animal."

  Bud pulled out a file sheet. "Alibis on the Hudgens case. You and Billy in bed together, Max Pelts porking some teenage quiff. Miller Stanton at a party where your queer buddy Brett Chase also happens to be. So far, we got a real all-American crew on _Badge of Honor_. David Mertens the set man, he's at home with his male nurse, so maybe he's fruit, too. What I want--"

  Exley, on cue: "Sergeant, watch your language and get to the point."

  Valburn seethed; Billy D. faked boredom. But something in the last spiel nudged him--his eyes went from good guy to bad guy. "The point is that Sid Hudgens had a boner for _Badge of Honor_ at the time he was killed. Patchett gets killed five years later, and him and Hudgens were partners. These homos here, they're both tied to _Badge of Honor_ and they kicked loose with intimate details on Patchett's rackets. Captain, if it walks, talks and quacks like a duck, then it's a duck--not a mouse."

  Valburn said, "Quack, quack, idiot. Captain, will you tell this man who he's dealing with?"

  Exley, stern. "Sergeant, these gentlemen aren't suspects. They're voluntary interviewees."

  "Well, shit, sir, I don't see no difference."

  Exley, exasperated. "Gentlemen, to end this once and for all, please tell the sergeant. Did either of you even know Sid Hudgens personally?"

  Two "No" head shakes. Bud flew--Exley poetry. "If it squeaks like a mouse and swishes, it's a queer mouse. Captain, think. These guys bought dope off Fleur-de-Lis, and they admitted they knew Patchett sniffed horse and pushed pornography. They've got the lowdown on Patchett's rackets, but they claim they didn't know Patchett and Hudgens were partners. I say we take them through Patchett's little enterprises and see what they do know."

  Exley raised his hands--fake helpless. "A few more specific questions then, gentlemen. Again, anything illegal that you admit to will be overlooked--and will not go outside this room. Do you understand, Sergeant?"

  Fucking brilliant: build them up to who made the blood smut. Trash said Timmy was spooked by the stuff--he showed it to him in '53. Credit Exley with balls--the closer they got to the smut the closer they got to his old man and Atherton. "Okay, sir."

  Timmy and Billy shared a look: nice people strafed by low class. Exley flashed it over. "And, Sergeant--I'll ask the questions."

  "Yes, sir. You guys tell the truth. I'll know if you're lying."

  Exley sighed. "Just a few questions. First, did you know that Patchett procured call girls for business associates?"

  Two "Yes" nods. Bud said, "He ran boys, too. You guys ever buy any outside stuff?"

  Exley:          "Not another word, Sergeant."

  Timmy slid closer to Billy. "I won't dignify that last question with an answer."

  Bud winked. "You're cute. I ever wind up in stir, I hope you're in my cell."

  Billy mimed spitting on the floor. Exley rolled his eyes--God save us from this heathen. "Moving along. Were you aware that Patchett employed a plastic surgeon to surgically alter his prostitutes to resemble movie stars?"

  Timmy said, "Yes," Billy said, "Yes." Exley smiled like that was everyday stuff. "Were you also aware that those prostitutes, both male and female, engaged in other criminal pursuits at Patchett's direction?"

  Build them up to "extortion," the Patchett/Hudgens partnership. Exley told him the story: Lorraine/Rita said "This Guy" made Patchett squeeze his "clients," right when Pierce was set to go partners with Hudgens--_right after the Nite Owl killings_. A brainstorm coming--maybe a connector back to Dudley. "Answer the captain, shitbirds."

  Billy said, "Ed, make him stop. Really, this has gone far enough."

  Bud laughed. "_Ed?_ Oops, I forgot, boss. Your daddy's pals with his daddy."

  Exley riled for real--flushed, trembling. "White, shut your mouth."

  The fruits loved it--smiles, titters. Exley said, "Gentlemen, please answer the question."

  Timmy shrugged. "Be specific. What other 'criminal pursuits'?"

  "Specifically blackmail."

  Two legs brushing twitched apart--Bud caught it plain. Exley touched his necktie--GO FULL.

  Brainstorm: Johnny Stomp as "This Guy." Johnny Stomp an old shake artist, no visible means of support. Crim 101-- Lorraine Malvasi said the squeezes went down May '53-- Dudley's gang had already teamed up with Patchett. "Yeah, _blackmail_. Married johns and pervs and queers are prone to it. It's like an occupational hazard. Ever get squeezed by one of your playmates?"

  Now Billy rolled his eyes. "We don't frequent prostitutes. Male or female."

  Bud pulled his chair closer. "Well, your sweetie pie here was a known associate of a known fruit hustler named Bobby Inge. If it quacks like a duck, it's a duck. So quack, quack, and kick loose with who put the arm on you."

  Exley, stern. "Gentlemen, do you know the names of any specific Patchett prostitutes?"

  Billy came on butch. "He's a storm trooper, and we don't have to answer his questions."

  "The fuck. You crawl around in sewers, you gotta meet some rats. Ever hear of a cute little twist named Daryl Bergeron? Ever get a yen for a woman and go for his mother? Daryl did-- Trashcan Jack Vincennes has got a smut book with pictures of them fucking on roller skates. You're floating in a sewer on a Popsicle stick you fucking queer bastards, so--"

  Valburn: "Ed, make him stop!"

  Exley:          "Sergeant, enough!"

  Bud, dizzy, like a man inside his head was feeding him lines. "The hell you say. These geeks are all over Patchett's schemes. One of them's a TV star, one of them's got a famous daddy. Two faggots with plenty of money just fucking ripe to be squeezed. That don't play smart to you?"

  Exley--KEEP STILL--a finger to his collar. "Sergeant White has a point, although I apologize for his way of expressing it. Gentlemen, just for the record. Have either of you any knowledge of extortion schemes involving Pierce Patchett and/or his prostitutes?"

  Timmy Valburn said, "No."

  Billy Dieterling said, "No."

  Bud got ready to whisper.

  Exley leaned forward. "Have either of you ever been threatened with blackmail?"

  Two more nos--two queers sweating up a nice cool room. Bud whispered, "Johnny Stompanato."

  The fags froze. Bud said, "_Badge of Honor_ dirt. Is that what he wanted?"

  Valburn started to speak--Billy shushed him. Exley: SLOW. The dizzy head man said NO. "Did he have dirt on your father? The great fucking Raymond Dieterling?"

  Exley shot the cut-off sign. The dizzy man showed his face: Dick Stens sucking gas. "_Dirt_. Wee Willie Wennerholm, Loren Atherton and the kiddie murders. _Your father_."

  Billy trembled, pointed to Exley. "_His_ father!"

  Four-way stares-cut off by Valburn sobbing. Billy helped him up, embraced him. Exley said, "Get out. Now. You're free to go."

  He looked sad more than mad or scared.

  Billy walked Timmy out. Bud walked to the window. Exley walked over, talked to a hand mike. "Duane, Valburn and Dieterling are on their way. You and Don tail them."

  Bud scoped him--a little taller, half his bulk. Something made him say, "I shouldn't have done that."

  Exley looked out the window. "It'll be over soon. All of it." Bud looked down. Fisk and Kleckner stood by the door; the queers hit the sidewalk running. The l.A. men chased--a bus held them back. The bus zoomed by--no Billy and Timmy. Fisk and Kleckner stood in the street looking stupid.

  Exley started laughing.

  Something made Bud laugh.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  They rehashed old times; Stanton drank room service bubbly. Jack laid out his pitch: Patchett/ Hudgens, smut, heroin, the Nite Owl. He could tell Miller knew something; he could tell he wanted to spill it.