'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?»'
Yorkin bobbed his head yes yes yes. 'Test pilot! I flew for him! Test pilot!'
Ed unlocked his cuffs. 'Say that again.'
Yorkin rubbed his neck. 'Guinea pig.'
'What?'
'I let him test horse on me. Here and there, a little at a time.'
'Start over. Slowly.'
Yorkin coughed. 'Pierce got this heroin stolen off this Cohen- Jack Dragna deal years ago. This guy Buzz Meeks left some with these guys Pete and Bar Englekling, just a sample, and they gave it to their father, who was some kind of chemistry hotshot. He taught Pierce in college, and he laid the shit off to him and died, a heart attack or something. This other guy, I don't know his name so don't ask me, he killed Meeks or something like that. He got the rest of the shit, like eighteen pounds' worth. Pierce has been developing compounds with the stuff for years. He wants to make the cheapest and the safest and the best. I just… I just take some test pops.'
Astounding lines crossing. 'You were making deliveries for Fleur-de-Lis five years ago, right?'
'Right, yeah, sure.'
'You and Lamar Hinton.'
'I ain't seen Lamar in years, you can't pin Lamar's shit on me!'
Ed grabbed the spare chair, brandished it. 'I don't want to. Give me an answer on this, and if I like it I'll owe you a solid. It's a test and you're a test pilot, so you should do well. Who shot at Jack Vincennes outside the Hollywood drop back in '53?'
Yorkin cringed. 'Me. Pierce told me to clip him. I shouldn't of done it by the drop. I fucked up and Pierce got pissed.'
Patchett nailed: attempted murder on a police officer. 'What did he do to you for that?'
'He tested me bad. He gave me all these bad compounds he said he had to eliminate. He made me take these bad fucking flights.'
'So you hate him for it.'
'Man, Pierce ain't like regular people. I hate him, but I dig him too.'
Ed pushed the chair away. 'Do you remember the Nite Owl shootings?'
'Sure, years ago. What's that got to do-'
'Never mind, and here's the important thing. If you fill this in for me, I'll give you a written immunity statement and put you up in protective custody until Patchett's down. Smut, Chester. You remember those orgy books Fleur-de-Lis was running five years ago?'
Yorkin bobbed his head yes.
'The ink blood on the pictures, do you remember that?'
Yorkin smiled-snitching eager now. 'I know that story good. Pierce is going down for real?'
Ten hours from the script. 'Maybe tonight.'
'Then fuck him for all those bad flights.'
'Chester, just tell me slowly.'
Yorkin stood up, worked the kinks from his legs. 'You know what's a bitch about Pierce? He'd say all these things around me when I was on a flight, like I was harmless 'cause I couldn't remember nothing he said.'
Ed got out his notebook. 'Try to tell it in order.'
Yorkin rubbed his throat, coughed. 'Okay, Pierce had this old string of girls that he let go, this was around when we were moving them picture books. Some guy, I don't know his name, he talked some of the girls and their johns into posing for them pictures. He made books out of them and went to Pierce to get money to move the books wide, you know, he promised Pierce a cut. Pierce, he liked the idea, but he didn't want to expose his girls or their johns. He bought a bunch of the books off the guy to move through Fleur-de-Lis, you know, just a close distribution he called it, like a test market, he figured he could keep track of the stuff that way.'
Old lines crossing: the close distribution wasn't that close, Ad Vice retrieved throwaway copies-Vincennes to the case. 'Keep going, Chester.'
'Well, the guy who made the stuff, somehow he weaseled some info on the Englekling brothers out of Pierce, how they had this printing press place and was always bent for money. He found himself a front man, and the front man, he approached the brothers. You know, a plan to make the shit bulk and move it.'
The front man: Duke Cathcart. Zigzag lines from Cohen to the brothers, the brothers to Patchett, back on a sideswipe: Mickey at McNeil Island-then Goldman and Van Gelder. «Line the heroin to the pornography». 'Chester, how do you know all this?'
Yorkin laughed. 'I'd be on a mainline flight and Pierce, he'd be on safe old white horse up the nose. He'd just jaw at me like I some kind of dog you talk to.'
'So Patchett and the smut are dead, right? All he's interested in is pushing the heroin.'
'Nix. That guy who brought Pierce the eighteen pounds years ago? Well, he's got a hard-on for the smut. He's got lists of all these rich perverts and all these contacts in South America. Him and Pierce, they sat on the original pictures for years, then they had some new books made up who-knows-where. They got the shit in a warehouse someplace, I don't know where, just waiting to go. I think Pierce was waiting for some kind of heat to die down.'
No new lines crossed. A phrase sunk in: «profit motive». Pornography by itself was chancy; twenty pounds of heroin «developed» meant millions. Yorkin said, 'One more 'case you get antsy on my deal. Pierce has got him a booby-trapped safe by his house. He's got money, dope, all kinds of stuff stashed there.'
Ed kept thinking MONEY.
Yorkin: 'Hey, talk to me! You want the new drop address? 8819 Linden, Long Beach. Exley, talk to me!'
'Steak in your cell, Chester. You've earned it.'
