L.A. Confidential Part 7
"Yeah, Exley. _Throwing you_. The deal, the payoff. You think I'm testifying for free?"
Exley futzed with his gla.s.ses. "I'm just doing my duty."
Jack laughed. "You're playing an angle, college boy. You're getting something out of this, so you won't have to hobn.o.b with the f.u.c.king rank-and-file cops who are going to hate your f.u.c.king guts for snitching. And if Parker promised you the Bureau, watch out, Some Bureau guys are gonna burn in this thing and you're gonna have to work with friends of theirs."
Exley flinched; Jack laughed. "Good payoff, I'll admit that."
"You're the payoff expert. Not me."
"You'll be outranking me pretty soon, so I should be nice. Did you know Ellis Loew's new girlfriend has the hots for you?"
A clerk called, "Edmund J. Exley to chambers."
Jack winked. "Go. And clip those threads on your coat or you'll look like a rube."
Exley walked across the hall--primping, pulling threads.
Jack killed time--thinking about Karen. Ten days since the party; life was mostly aces. He had to apologize to Spade Cooley; Welton Morrow was p.i.s.sed over him and Karen--but the lukewarm Joanie/Ellis Loew deal almost made it up for him. Hotel shacks were a strain--Karen lived at home, his place was a dive, he'd been neglecting his payments to the Scoggins kids to make the freight at the Amba.s.sador. Karen loved the illicit romance; he loved her loving it. Aces. But Sid Hudgens hadn't called arid L.A. was heroin dry--no Narco jollies. A year at Ad Vice loomed like the gas chamber.
He felt like a fighter ready to dive. The Christmas geeks kept staring; the punk he'd thumped had on a nose splint--probably a phony some Jew lawyer told him to wear. The grand jury room door stood ajar; Jack walked over, looked in.
Six jurors at a table facing the witness stand; Ellis Loew hurling questions--Ed Exley in the box.
He didn't play with his gla.s.ses; he didn't hem and haw. His voice went an octave lower than normal--and stayed even. Skinny, not a cop type, he still had authority--and his timing was perfect. Loew pitched perfect outside sliders; Exley knew they were coming, but acted surprised. Whoever coached him did a f.u.c.king-A bang-up job.
Jack picked out details, sensed Exley reaching, a war hero-not a weak sister in a cellblock full of rowdies. Loew glossed over that; Exley's answers. .h.i.t smart: he was outnumbered, his keys were s.n.a.t.c.hed, he was locked in a storeroom--and that was that. He was a man who knew who he was, knew the futility of cheap heroics.
Exley spieled: rat-offs on Brownell, Hufl Doherty. He called d.i.c.k Stensland the worst of the worst, didn't blink snitching Bud White. Jack smiled when it hit him: everything is skewed toward our side. Krugman, Pratt, Tucker, pension safe--were set up-- for his testimony. Stensland and White--heading for indictment city. What a f.u.c.king performance.
Loew called for a summation. Exley obliged: pap about justice. Loew excused him; the jurors almost swooned. Exley left the box limping--he'd probably jammed his legs asleep.
Jack met him outside. "You were good. Parker would've loved it." Exley stretched his legs. "You think he'll read the transcript?" "He'll have it inside ten minutes, and Bud White'll f.u.c.k you for this if it takes the rest of his life. He was called in to Thad Green after the show-up, and you can bet Green suspended him. You had better pray he cops a deal and stays on the Department, because that is one civilian you do not want on your case."
"Is that why you didn't tell Loew he brought most of the liquor?"
A clerk called, "John Vincennes, five minutes."
Jack got up some nerve. "I'm snitching three old-timers who'll be fishing in Oregon next week. Next to you, I'm clean. And smart."
"We're both doing the right thing. Only you hate yourself for it, and that's not smart."
Jack saw Ellis Loew and Karen down the hall. Loew walked up. "I told Joan you were testifying today, and she told Karen. I'm sorry, and I told Joan in confidence. _Jack, I'm sorry_. I told Karen she couldn't watch in chambers, that she'll have to listen over the speaker in my office. _Jack, I'm sorry_."
"Jewboy, you sure know how to guarantee a witness."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bud nursed a highball.
Jukebox noise pounded him; he had the worst seat in the bar--a sofa back by the pay phones. His old football wounds throbbed--like his hard-on for Exley. No badge, no gun, indictments shooting his way--the fortyish redhead looked like the best thing he'd ever seen. He carried his drink over.
She smiled at him. The red looked fake--but she had a kind face. Bud smiled. "That an old-fashioned you're drinking?"
"Yes, and my name's Angela."
"My name's Bud."
"n.o.body was born with the name 'Bud."'
"They stick you with a name like 'Wendell,' you look for an alias."
Angela laughed. "What do you do, _Bud?_"
"I'm sorta between jobs right now."
"Oh? Well, what _did_ you do?"
SUSPENDED! YOU DUMB f.u.c.k LOOKING. A GIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH! "I wouldn't play ball with my boss. Angela, what do you say--"
"You mean like a union dispute or something? I'm in the United Federation of Teachers, and my ex-husband was a shop steward with the Teamsters. Is that what you--"
Bud felt a hand on his shoulder. "Lad, might I have a word with you?"
Dudley Smith. CALL IT I.A. RUNNING TAILS.
"This business, Lieutenant?"
"It is indeed. Say good night to your new friend and join me by those back tables. I've told the bartender to turn the music down so we can talk."
A jump tune went soft; Smith walked off. A sailor had his hooks into Angela. Bud eased over to the lounges.
Cozy: Smith, two chairs, a table--a newspaper covering the top, a little mound underneath. Bud sat down. "Is I.A. tailing me?"
"Yes, and other likely indictees. It was your chum Exley's idea. The lad has a piece of Chief Parker's ear, and he told him that you and Stensland might be driven to commit rash acts. Exley vilified you and many other fine men on the witness stand, lad. I've read the transcript. His testimony was high treason and a despicable affront to all honorable policemen."
Stens--holed up on a bender. "Don't that paper say we been indicted?"
"Don't be precipitous, lad. I've used my piece of the chief's ear to have your tail called off, so you're with a friend."
"Lieutenant, what do you want?"
Smith said, "Call me Dudley."
"_Dudley_, what do you want?"
Ho, ho, ho--a beautiful tenor. "Lad, you impress me. I admire your refusal to testify and your loyalty to your partner, however unfounded. I admire you as a policeman, particularly your adherence to violence where needed as a necessary adjunct to the job, and I am most impressed by your punishment of woman beaters. Do you hate them, lad?"
Big words--his head spun. "Yeah, I hate them."
"And for good reason, judging from what I know of your background. Do you hate anything else quite so much?"
Fists so tight his hands ached. "Exley. f.u.c.king Exley. Trashcan Jack, he's gotta be up there, too. d.i.c.k Stens is giving himself cirrhosis 'cause those two squealed us off."
Smith shook his head. "Not Vincennes, lad. He was the stalking horse for the Department, and we needed him to give the D.A.'S Office some bodies. He only snitched twenty-year men, and he took the blame for the liquor you brought to the party. No, lad, Jack does not deserve your hatred."
Bud leaned over the table. "Dudley, what do you want?"
"I want you to avoid an indictment and return to duty, and I have a way for you to do it."
Bud looked at the newspaper. "How?"
"'Work for me."
"Doing what?"
"No, more questions first. Lad, do you recognize the need to contain crime, to keep it south of Jefferson with the dark element?"
"Sure."
"And do you think a certain organized crime element should be allowed to exist and perpetuate acceptable vices that hurt no one?"
"Sure, pork barrel. The game's gotta be played that way a little. What's this got to do-"
Smith yanked the paper--a badge and .38 special gleamed up. Bud, scalp p.r.i.c.kles. "I knew you had juice. You squared it with Green?"
"Yes, lad, I squared it--with Parker. With the part of his ear that Exley hasn't poisoned. He said if the grand jury didn't hand down a bill against you, your refusal to testify would not be punished. Now pick up your things before the proprietor calls the police."
GLEAMING--Bud grabbed his goodies. "There's no G.o.dd.a.m.n bill on me?"
Ho, ho, ho--mocking. "Lad, the chief knew he was giving me a long shot, and I'm glad you haven't read the Four Star _Herald_."
Bud said, "_How?_"
"Not yet, lad."
"What about d.i.c.k?"
"He's through, lad. And don't protest, because it's unavoidable. He's been billed, he'll be indicted and he'll swing. He's the Department's scapegoat, on Parker's orders. And it was Exley who convinced him to hand d.i.c.k over. Criminal charges and jail time."
A broiling hot room--Bud pulled his necktie loose, closed his eyes.
"Lad, I'll get d.i.c.k a nice berth at the honor farm. I know a woman deputy there who can fix things, and when he gets out I'll guarantee him a shot at Exley."
Bud opened his eyes; Smith had the _Herald_ spread full. The headline: "Policemen Indicted in b.l.o.o.d.y Christmas Scandal." Below, a column circled: Sergeant Richard Stensland flagged on four charges, three old-timer cops billed, Lentz, Brownell, Huff swinging on two bills apiece. Underlined: "Officer Wendell White, 33, received no true bills, although several sources within the District Attorney's Bureau had stated that first-degree a.s.sault bills seemed imminent. The grand jury's foreman stated that four police-beating victims recanted their previous testimony, which had Officer White attempting to strangle Juan Carbijal, age 19. The recanted testimony directly contradicted the testimony of LAPD Sergeant Edmund J. Exley, who had sworn under oath that White had, in fact, attempted to grievously injure Carbijal. Sergeant Exley's testimony is not considered tainted, since it resulted in probable indictments against seven other officers; however, although the grand jurors doubted the credibility of the recantings, they deemed them sufficient to deny the D.A.'s Office true bills against Officer White. Deputy D.A. Ellis Loew told reporters: 'Something suspicious happened, but I don't know what it was. Four retractions have to supersede the testimony of one witness, even as splendid a witness as Sergeant Exley, a decorated war hero."'
Newsprint swirling. Bud said, "Why? Why'd you do that for me? And how?"
Smith crumpled the paper. "Lad, I need you for a new a.s.signment Parker has given me the go-ahead on. It's a containment measure, an adjunct to Homicide. We're going to call it the Surveillance Detail, an innocuous name for a duty that few men are fit for, but you were born for. It's a muscle job and a shooting job and a job that entails asking very few questions. Lad, do you follow my drift?"
"In Technicolor."
"You'll be transferred out of Central d.i.c.ks when Parker announces his shake-up. Will you work for me?"
"I'd be crazy not to. Why, Dudley?"
"Why what, lad?"
"You shivved Ellis Loew to help me out, and everyone in the Bureau knows you and him are tight. Why?"
"Because I like your style, lad. Will that answer suffice?"
"I guess it'll have to. Now let's try 'how?"'
"How what, lad?"
"How you got the spics to retract."
Smith laid bra.s.s knucks on the table: chipped, caked with blood.
CALENDAR
1952
EXTRACT: L.A. _Mirror-News_, March 19: