This huge hand snuffing flames out--stretching huge to quash that scream.
A whisper:
"We'll stash him at one of your buildings. You do what you have to do, and I'll watchdog him. We'll work an angle on his money, and sooner or later he'll spill."
Smoke. Mattress debris settling.
Chick torched half-bald.
EVERYTHING SPINNING.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Back to L.A.--Pete's car solo-- pay-phone stops en route.
I broke it to Glenda: you're nailed for Dwight Gilette. She said, "Oh, shit" and hatched a plan: she'd bus it to Fresno, hide out with an old carhop pal. Phone-tap panic hit me--I spieled her through the checkout procedure. Glenda pulled wires and checked diodes--no tap on her line.
Her goodbye: "We're too good-looking to lose."
Jack Woods--three no-answers--Meg ditto. A booth outside the Bureau, luck--Jack just walked in. I told him the Feds fucked me: grab Meg, grab our money, GO.
"Okay, Dave"--no goodbye.
I ran up to Ad Vice. A clerk's slip on my desk: "Call Meg. Important."
My In box, my Out box--no new Herrick field reports. I checked my desk--the Kafesjian/Herrick case file was gone.
The phone rang--
"Yeah?"
"Boss, it's Riegle."
"Yeah?"
"Come on, you assigned me to a stakeout, remember? The storage locker place, you told me-"
"Yeah, I remember. Is this routine, or something good?"
Miffed: "I got you twelve hours of DMV-certified squarejohns and one interesting bit."
"So tell me."
"_So_, a guy went in, then ran back to his car looking spooked. _So_, I got his plate number and checked him out, and I thought he looked sort of familiar. _So_, Richard Carlisle, you know him? He's LAPD, and I think he works for Dudley Smith."
Soft clicks.
"Boss, are you--"
I cradled the phone down, soft clicks building:
Dick Carlisle--fur-job detective.
Dick Carlisle-Mike Breuning's partner.
1 1/51--Breuning dead-ends a juvie B&E. Obvious perps: Tommy K., Richie Herrick.
My Kafesjian/Herrick case file--missing.
I walked down the hall to Personnel. File request slips on the clerk's desk--for Division COs only.
I braced the clerk:
Michael Breuning, Richard Carlisle-get me their folders. "Yes, sir," ten minutes, folders out--"not to leave the room."
Carlisle--Previous Employment--no clicks.
Breuning--movie click--Wilshire Film Processing, developing technician--'37--'39--pre-LAPD.
Click--soft, circumstantial.
1:00 A.M.--back to Ad Vice. Stray thoughts: Pete guarding Chick at my El Segundo vacant.
Chick:
"THEY."
Afraid to say "Kafesjian."
Afraid to snitch they/THEM/who?
That message slip: "Call Meg. Important."
Circumstantial--prickles up my short hairs.
Meg at Jack's--worth a try. Three rings--Jack, edgy: "Yes?"
"It's me."
Background noise: high heels tapping. Jack said, "She's here. She's taking it pretty well, maybe just a little bit nervous."
"You're leaving tomorrow?"
"Right. We'll hit the banks early, withdraw the cash and get bank drafts. Then we're going to drive down to Del Mar, open some new accounts and find a place. You want to talk to her?"
_Tap tap_--Meg pacing--high heels made her stocking seams bunch. "No. Tell her it's just goodbye for now, and ask her what the message was."
_Tap, tap_, low voices. Footsteps, Jack: "Meg said she's got a partial trace on that building in Lynwood."
"And?"
"She found some property evaluation reports in that storage basement at the City Hall. What she's got is a 1937 report listing Phillip Herrick and a Dudley L. Smith as bidders on 4980 Spindrift. Hey, you think that's _the_ Dudley Smith?"
Sweaty hands--I dropped the phone.
Say it:
Ed Exley vs. Dudley Smith.
CHAPTER FORTY
EMERGENCY COMMAND #'s--my desk card. Chief of Detectives (Home)--dial it.
Exley, 1:00 A.M. alert: "Yes? Who is this?"
"It's Klein. I just figured out you're working Dudley Smith."
"Come over now. My address is 432 South McCadden."
o o o
A trellised Tudor--lights on, the door ajar. I walked in uninvited.
A showroom living room, catalog perfect. Exley in a suit and knotted tie--2:00 fucking A.M.
"How did you find out?"
"I beat you to a bank writ and hit Junior Stemmons' vault boxes. He had notes on you operating Duhamel, and Reuben Ruiz filled in some blank spots on the fur heist. I found out that Dudley and Phillip Herrick went in on some property together back in '37. Herrick and J.C. Kafesjian came to L.A. a few years before, and I'm betting Dudley was the one who set J.C. up with the LAPD."
Standing there, arms crossed. "Continue."
"It fits. My Kafesjian and Herrick files were stolen, and Richie's prison records are missing. Dudley could have snatched them both easily. He loves developing protégés, so you shoved Johnny Duhamel in his face."
"Continue."
Shock him: "I killed Johnny. Dudley doped me up, provoked me and filmed it. A fucking _movie_ exists. I think he's waiting to use me for something."
Exley "shock"--one neck vein pulsing. "When you said Duhamel was dead, I knew it had to be Dudley, but this film business surprises me."
"Surprise _me_. Give me your end of it."
He pulled chairs up. "Give me your take on Dudley Smith."
"He's brilliant and obsessed with order. He's cruel. It's occurred to me a few times that he's capable of anything."
"Beyond your wildest imaginings."
Scalp prickles. "And?"
"And he's been trying to set himself up to control the L.A. rackets for years."
"_And?_"
"And, in 1950 he acquired some heroin stolen from a Mickey Cohen-- Jack Dragna truce meeting. He enlisted a chemist, who spent years developing compounds with it, in order to produce the drug more cheaply. His design was to accrue profit through selling it, to utilize it to keep Negro criminal elements sedated and then branch out into other rackets. His ultimate goal was something along the lines of 'contained' organized crime. He wanted to perpetuate illegal enterprises within specific vice zones, most notably South Los Angeles."
"Get to specifics."
Slow--tantalizing me: "In '53 Dudley became involved in an attempt to take over a pornography racket. A meet was set up at the Nite Owl Coffee Shop. Dudley sent three men in with shotguns. A robbery was faked, and six people were killed. Dudley was instrumental in attempting to frame three Negro thugs for the murders. They escaped from jail and hid out, and as you know, I shot and killed them, along with the man who was hiding them."
The room swirled--
"The case was assumed closed. As you also know, a man came forth later and gave the men I killed a valid Nite Owl alibi, which prompted a reopening. I know you know most of the story, but let two facts suffice: the actual gunmen were killed during the reopened investigation, and they left not one shred of evidence pointing to Dudley Liam Smith."
Swirling--grab for threads:
Dudley--smut fiend?--MOVIE TIME. Sid Frizell shooting stag films in that courtyard--no connection to Smith.
"Dud's got new takeover plans going--strictly Niggertown."
"Bravo, Lieutenant."
"He's running Mickey Cohen?"
"Continue."
"Mickey's been scuffling since he got out of prison. Four of his men disappeared earlier this year--Dudley killed them. All Mickey's got going is that stupid horror movie he's bankrolling, which I don't think ties to any of this."
"Continue."
"Mickey's been acting strange since the Fed business started. He won't dump his Southside coin machines, and I warned him half a dozen times. He's
got some out-of-town guys servicing slots in plain sight, with the Feds right there taking pictures. I mentioned it to Chick Vecchio, who handed me a line of shit about Mickey paying off a syndicate loan with his coin percentages. Chick's in with Dudley. Dudley clipped those four Mickey guys and approached Chick. Chick's the liaison between Dud and Mickey. That slot work with the Feds watching is some kind of setup."
Exley fucking _smiled_. "You've put it together exactly as I have."
"Get to Johnny. Tell me how you operated him."
"No, tell me about your Stemmons evidence first."
I ticked points: "I know about those bank accounts you set up. I know how you paid those reporters to write stories about Johnny. I know you paid off his debts, got him to tank that fight and got him into the Academy. You set up the fur heist yourself, so I'm thinking you arranged leads to have Dudley actually _make_ Johnny for the heist. You _knew_ how Dudley loved developing 'protégés,' so you put a fucking humdinger right in front of his nose."
"Keep going."
"Breuning and Carlisle--they're in with Dudley."
"Correct."
"You got Johnny that Academy undercover job."
"Elaborate on that."
Leading me/pushing me/praising me--this string-pulling weak sister.
"You coached him to overreact. Dudley likes tough boys, so you made damn sure Johnny established some strongarm credentials."
"Bravo, Lieutenant"--toss the dog a bone.
"You like running people as much as Dudley does. It must gall you to know he's better at it."
"You're sure of that?"
"No, you cocksucker, I'm not. But I know it must get you to look in the mirror and see Dudley."
Exley "anger"--a tight little grimace.
"Continue."
"No, you give me a chronology. Dudley bit, and got Johnny assigned to the Mobster Squad. He's the Robbery Division CO, so he got the Hurwitz heist pro forma. You planted leads to put Dudley on to Johnny, then what?"
"Then Johnny became an official Mobster Squad goon. It's brutal work, Lieutenant. I always thought you'd be well suited for it."
Tight fists--my knuckles ached. "Reuben Ruiz said Johnny was doing some 'very bad things.' Dudley started working _him_ then, right? He made Johnny for the robbery, and he _liked_ it. It impressed him, so he let Johnny in on his plans."
"You're on track. Continue."
"Continue shit--what 'very bad things'?"
"Dudley had Johnny terrorizing out-of-town hoodlums he had plans for. Johnny told me he was having difficulty doing it."
"You should have pulled him then."
"No. I needed more."
"Do you think those out-of-town guys were the guys working Mickey's slots? Do you think it ties into Dud running Mickey?"
"Yes. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it's possible."
His chair--Scotch tape dangling off a slat.
"Wrap it up."
Exley buffed his glasses--his eyes looked soft without them. "Johnny began to lose Dudley's respect. He was too lax with the out-of-town men, and he told me that Carlisle and Breuning were surveilling him sporadically, apparently because Dudley became instinctively suspicious of him. Junior Stemmons came back into Johnny's life then, quite accidentally. Both he and Johnny were working South-Central, and somehow Stemmons got Johnny to admit his participation in the fur robbery. Johnny didn't, apparently, implicate me, but Stemmons sensed that he was being operated. Dudley became aware of how dangerously unstable Stemmons was, and I _think_ he suspected him of trying to extort Johnny. I _know_ for a fact that Dudley tried to get a bank writ to seize potential Stemmons evidence, and I'm assuming that he tortured Johnny for information on the extent of Junior's knowledge before he had you kill him. I had already gone to a Federal law clerk that I know, and he stalled Dudley's writ while I tried to get one. You got to the vault boxes first, and I'm thinking that Welles Noonan must have assisted you."
That dangling tape--just maybe.
"He did."
"Are you going to be a Federal witness?"
"I'm supposed to be."
"But you're considering not testifying?"
Glenda--potential FED indictments pending.
"Mostly I'm thinking of running."
"What's stopping you?"
"The Kafesjian-Herrick job."
"You're expecting some kind of payoff?"
"No, I just want to know why."
"Is that all you want?"
"No. I want you to get me a cup of coffee, and I want to know why you assigned me to the Kafesjian burglary."
Exley stood up. "Do you think Dudley killed Junior Stemmons?"
"No, he would have ditched the body to buy more time to get at the vault boxes."
"Are you thinking it was a legitimate overdose?"
"No, I'd bet on Tommy K. My guess is that Junior came on strong and Tommy got pissed. It happened at Bido Lito's, so Tommy left the body there. The Kafesjians torched the place to destroy evidence."
"You could be right. Wait, I'll get you your coffee."
He walked out. Kitchen sounds--I grabbed the tape.
Safe-combination bingo: 34L--1 6R--3 1 L. Squarejohn thinking: every rich stupe pulled that chair-reminder bit. I pressed the tape back and scoped the room: cold, expensive.
Exley brought coffee in on a tray. I poured a cup for show.
"You put me on the Kafesjian burglary to bait Dudley."
"Yes. Has he approached you?"
"Indirectly, and I told him flat out that you were using me as some sort of agent provocateur. He let it go at that."
"And he has you compromised with that movie you told me about."
"PLEASE DON'T KlLL ME."
"Get to it. Dudley and the Kafesjians."
He sat down. "The burglary itself was just a coincidence, and I simply capitalized on the fact that Dan Wilhite sent you over to smooth things out with J.C. I suspect that the burglary and the Herrick killings, which _are_ connected, are connected to Dudley at best tangentially. Essentially, after the Nite Owl reopening, I began querying retired officers about Dudley. I learned that he, not Chief Horrall, suborned the Kafesjians into the LAPD fold twenty-odd years ago. _He_ was the one who initiated the notion of contained narcotics peddling in exchange for a certain amount of Southside order and snitch information, and of course niany years later he went crazy with the notion of containment in general."
"What about Phillip Herrick?"
"Your property-ownership lead is my first indication of a SmithHerrick connection. You see, I just wanted Dudley diverted. I knew he had things brewing in South-Central, and I knew he was taking a discreet percentage from J.C. Kafesjian. I wanted the Kafesjians rattled, and I had hoped that your reputation would move Dudley to approach you."
"Then you'd operate me."
"Yes."
Dawn breaking--my last free day. "I burned up Junior's evidence. He had notes, your cancelled checks to those reporters, everything."
"All my dealings with Duhamel were verbal. You've just assured me that there is no evidence on my operation extant."
"It's comforting to know that you'll skate."
"You can, too."
"Don't jerk my chain. Don't offer me protection, and don't mention sparing the Department."
"You consider your situation beyond those things?"
Dawn light--my eyes stung. "I'm fucked, plain and simple."
"Ask a favor then. I'll grant it."
"I got Noonan to lift his surveillance on the Kafesjians. They'll be tailfree today only, and I think they'll go after Richie Herrick. I want a dozen mobile tail men with civilian radio cars, and a special frequency set up to monitor their calls. It's a shot at Dudley, which should please you no fucking end."
"You're assuming Richie can fill in some blanks on Dudley and the Kafesjians?"
"I'm assuming he knows all of it."
Exley stuck a hand out--Dave, my buddy. "I'll set up a radio spot at Newton Station. Be there at te
n-thirty, I'll have your men briefed and ready."
That hand, persistent--I ignored it.
"You're letting Narco go. The Department needs a scapegoat, and they're it."
That hand disappeared. "I have extensive dossiers on every Narco officer. At the proper time, I'm going to present them to Welles Noonan, as a way of affecting a rapprochement. And, parenthetically, Dan Wilhite committed suicide last night. He left a note that included a brief mention of the bribes he's taken, and I'm going to send Noonan a memorandum on it before too long. He was obviously afraid of having his more outré secrets exposed, which is something you should consider should you decide to testify against the Department."
Bad morning light--glaring.
"I'm past all that."
"You're not past needing me. I can help satisfy your curiosity regarding those families, so don't forget that your interests are identical to mine."
Bad morning light--one day left.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
10:30--Newton Street Station. A briefing room--chairs facing me.
No sleep--phone work kept me up. Recap: early-A.M. check-in--the Wagon Wheel Motel.
Those fur-storage notes: Dudley knew I knew/Dudley knew where I lived.
Calls:
Glenda said she was safe in Fresno.
Pete said he had Chick V. stashed, with Fred Turentine guarding him. Safe: _my_ slum building, dummy signers, untraceable. "When he heals up a little, I'm gonna lean on him. He's got money tucked away someplace, I can tell."
Implied: rob him, kill him.
Welles Noonan had Kafesjian news:
Per our bargain: all Fed tails were lifted today only. TV misinformation was planted: "Probe surveillance quashed by court injunction."
"I'm hoping our friends will think that an LAPD fix is in, and resume their outside life. Godspeed in this mission of yours, Brother Klein--and tune in Channel 4 or KMPC at two-forty-five this afternoon. Really, you'll be in for quite a treat."
Lying treacherous hump.
Tail men walked in and sat down. Mixed bag: suits and ties, loafer types. Twelve men--eyes on me.
"Gentlemen, I'm Dave Klein. I'm commanding the Herrick homicide job, and per Chief Exley's order, you are to keep a twenty-four rolling surveillance on J.C., Tommy, Lucille and Madge Kafesjian. We are hoping that one of them will lead us to Richard Herrick, who Chief Exley and I want to question as a material witness in the Herrick 187s."