job for Mr. Patchett, me and this guy Chester Yorkin. All we did was deliver these . . . these illegal things . . . and Cathcart, him I don't know from Adam. I heard Gilette was a swish, all I know's he used to get hooers for Spade Cooley's parties. You want skinny on Spade? I know he blows opium, he's a righteous degenerate dope fiend. He's playing the El Rancho now, you roust him. But I don't know no hooer killers and I don't know no girl Kathy Janeway.'

  Bud shook the chair--Hinton kept snitching. 'Sir, Mr. Patchett, he ran call girls. Gorgeous tail, all fixed up like movie stars. His favorite was this gorgeous cunt Lynn, looked just like--'

  Bud went straight for his face. The face went red, big men pressed in--arms around him--lifting him. The ceiling zooming down, cracked stucco swirls going black.

o        o          o

  Questions and answers through black, shouts and whimpers through gauze--a wall that held faces back. Stag books, Cathcart, Pierce P.--the full drift couldn't get through. A strain to hear 'Lynn Bracken,' no yield on the name, the black going that much blacker. Mickey Cohen, '53 and why'd you run--he tore at the gauze for that name. Shrieks that made him burrow into softness--snapshots of Lynn all around him.

  Lynn blond and a whore, brunette and herself. Lynn on his thing with Inez: 'Be kind to her and spare me the details.' Lynn filling up her diary while he punked out on reading it because he knew she had him down cold. Lynn thinking two steps ahead of him, drifting in and out of his life while he drifted in and out of hers. That black gauze throbbing--questions, answers. Black silence, cracked stucco swirls going light.

  Room 7 at the Victory: cots for the Mobster Squad guys. The door to 6 wide open.

  Bud rolled off his cot, stood up. His head throbbed, his jaw ached, he'd ripped up his pillow burrowing in. Into 6, a shambles: the hot seat, blood on the walls. No Hinton, no Dot, no Dudley and his boys. 1:10 A.M.--no way to figure out the questions and answers.

  He drove home woozy, too trashed to think. He unlocked his door yawning--the overhead light went on. Something/somebody grabbed him.

  Cuffs on his wrists. Ed Exley, Jack Vincennes--square in front of him. A side check: Fisk and Kleckner--I.A. shitbirds-- pinning his arms.

  Exley slapped him. Fisk grabbed his neck, popped a finger on his carotid.

  A folder in his face. Exley: 'l.A. ran a personal on you when you made sergeant, so we already know about Lynn Bracken. Vincennes had a tail on you back in '53, and he's got you, Bracken and Pierce Patchett in this deposition here. You braced Patchett on the Kathy Janeway homicide, and you were all over the Nite Owl like a plague. I need what you know, and if you don't cooperate I'll begin an I.A. investigation into your evidence suppression immediately. The Department needs a scapegoat on the old Nite Owl job--and I'm too valuable to take the fall. If you don't cooperate, I'll use every bit of my juice to ruin you.'

  The choke hold went slack--Bud tried to pull away. Kleckner and Fisk dug in. 'You fuck, I'll fucking kill you.'

  Exley laughed. 'I don't think so, and if you play you get your evidence suppression chilled, part of the collar and a little plum--a liaison to those hooker snuffs you care so much about.'

  Black gauze coming back. 'Lynn?'

  'She's our first interrogation--with pentothal. If she's clean, she walks.'

  He doesn't know about _Whisper_, I've still got that stiff in San Berdoo. 'And you and me when it's over.'

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  No sleep--Vincennes' deposition wouldn't let him. The wake-up call he didn't need: a reporter at 6:00 A.M. Radio news riding over: reopening speculation, a _mano a mano_ with his father--the freeway system near done, the Nite Owl hero now a villain. Parking lot pickets--Commie types demanding justice.

  Early--for the most important meeting of his career.

  Parker's conference room was set up--notepads on the table. Ed wrote 'Patchett,' 'Bracken,' 'Patchett's 'deal' with Hudgens-- extortion?'; he underlined 'Pornography pictures match Hudgens mutilations--have Vincennes bring smut books to Bureau.' White's contribution: 'Patchett hinked on smut in '53'; 'Patchett/Englekling bros and father chem background'; 'Duke Cathcart's pad tossed & San Berdoo Yellow Pages (printshops) ruffled.' White was still holding back--he knew it.

  Deposition underlined: 'Patchett involved (through Fleurde-Lis racket) in (contained) distribution of smut Ad Vice chasing in '53, smut Cathcart developed distribution scheme around, smut connected to mutilations on Hudgens' body.'

  Conclusion:

  A dense series of criminal conspiracies at least five years old resulting in no fewer than four and perhaps as many as a dozen major crimes.

  The other men filed in--Parker, Dudley Smith, Ellis Loew. Nods, quick sit-downs.

  Parker said, 'We're reopening. The A.G.'s Office wants to usurp the job, but Ellis has filed a restraining order against them, which should buy us two weeks' time. We've got two weeks to clear the case and recover the respect we lost. We've got two weeks before Sacramento comes down here and makes us a laughingstock. I want this case cleared, legally inviolate and in the hands of the grand jury within twelve days. Do you understand, gentlemen?'

  Nods all around. Loew said, 'I'm personally in a difficult position here, since Coates, Jones and Fontaine did confess to me. On reflection, I must admit that they were stupid and naive boys psychologically susceptible to suggestion, so--'

  Smith cut in. 'Ellis, that's blood under the bridge. We simply got the wrong coloreds, not the ones who fired off those shotguns in Griffith Park. The real culprits are some smart Darktown strutters who knew where Coates stashed his car, then planted the weapons. Lads who knew niggertown well and simply beat us to the location. The purple car seen by the Nite Owl was just a coincidence that the killers capitalized on. I think the Griffith Park car was stolen or out of state, and in any event I think it's not applicable. We have to begin by shaking down the southside again.'

  Ed smiled--Smith's tack played into his plan. 'Essentially I agree, and I've got one of my I.A. men checking old registrations. But aren't we ahead of ourselves? Shouldn't we set up a chain of command first?'

  Loew coughed. 'Ed, I think your shooting those thugs was a noble act, whatever your motives. But I think giving you the command would just make the press and the public more resentful. I think you should take a subsidiary role in this investigation.'

  Outrage down pat. 'I'm tired of being the bad guy on the six o'clock news and I'm tired of my sex life in the papers. I'm also the best detective in the--'

  Parker cut in. 'You are the best detective we have, and I understand your need to cut your losses. But Ellis is right, this is too personal with you. I've given Dudley the command. He'll recruit a team from Homicide and various squadrooms and take it from there.'

  'And me? Do I get a piece of the case?'

  Parker nodded. 'I'll give you anything within reason.'

  The kill. 'I want the chance to develop my own evidence with I.A. autonomy. I want the use of my two personal aides from I.A. and my choice of two officers to serve as field runners.'

  'That's fine by me. Dudley?'

  'Yes, I think that's fair. Lad, who did you have in mind for runners?'

  'Jack Vincennes and Bud White.'

  Smith almost gawked. Parker said, 'Strange bedfellows, but then it's a strange case. Twelve days, gentlemen. Not one minute longer.'

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Jack woke up on the couch, wrote Karen a note.

Sweetie--

  Fairs fair & yeah I screwed up with Ellis. But this goddamn sofa for two months isn't fair & if the Department can forgive me then you should be able to too. I haven't had a drink for six weeks, which if you checked the calendar by my closet you'd know. I don't expect you to think that makes everything right with us, but give me some credit for trying. I'll try--you want to go to law school, great, but I bet you'll hate it. In May I'll retire, maybe I can get a police chief job in some hick town near a good law school. I'll try, but cut me some slack because this

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