Little nods--Exley pre-briefed them.
"Gentlemen, those folders on your desks contain Intelligence Division photos of the four Kafesjians, along with State Records Bureau mugs of Richard Herrick, and a more recent artist's sketch of him. Know those faces. Memorize them. You'll be stringing three-man tails on each family member, both mobile and on foot, and I don't want you losing them."
Folders open, pix out--pros.
"You're all skilled tail men, or Chief Exley wouldn't have chosen you. You've got radio-equipped civilian cars, and Communications Division has got you hooked up on band 7, which is absolutely Fed-listening-proof. You're hooked up car to car, so you can talk among yourselves or contact me here at the base. You all know how to leapfrog suspects, and there are boom mikes outside the Kafesjian house. There's a man in a point car listening, and once you assume your perimeter posts, he'll tell you when to roll. Questions so far?"
No hands up.
"Gentlemen, if you see Richard Herrick, apprehend him alive. He's a peeper at worst, and both Chief Exley and I believe that a man peeping on him is in fact the Herrick family killer. If approached, I doubt that he'll react violently or resist arrest. He might try to flee, in which case you should pursue him and take him alive by any means necessary. _Should you spot one of the Kafesjians, specifically Tommy or J.C., trying to kill or in any way harm Richard Herrick, kill them_. If Tommy himself spots your tail and attempts to flee, chase him. If he makes any aggressive moves toward you, _kill him_."
Whistles, smiles.
"Go--you're dismissed."
o o o
Bugs in my walls, bugs on my phone. Bugs snooping on Glenda, snooping on Meg. Fred Turentine--the "Bug King"--guarding Chick.
Bugs in my buildings--three hundred units plus. Tenants overheard: fix the roof, kill the rats. Bugs blasting bop--niggers tearing up my slum pads.
"Sir? Lieutenant Klein?"
I woke up aiming--trigger happy.
A bluesuit--scared. "S-s-sir, the point man broadcast in. He said the two Kafesjian guys are mobile, and he said he heard them talking up Richie Herrick."
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Tail reports--band 7, continuous squawk:
11:14: Madge and Lucille at home. J.C. and Tommy driving eastbound--separate cars.
11:43: J.C. at the downtown Public Library. Tail men in foot pursuit-- walkie-talkie talkback:
The music room--J.C. rousting winos. "Hey! You know Richie Herrick, he used to read books here! Hey, you seen Richie, you tell me!"
No Richie confirmations.
12:06: J.C. mobile, eastbound.
12:11: Madge and Lucille at home.
Earaches--my headset fit tight.
12:24: J.C. at a skid-row movie house.
"He's shining a flashlight at all these bums sleeping. He's getting nowhere, and he's getting mad."
12:34: J.C. walking--Q&A at the Jesus Saves Mission.
12:49: Tommy walking--skid row.
12:56: Tommy at a skin-book arcade.
12:58: Tommy talking to a clerk.
Linkage?:
_Transom_ magazine--Richie Herrick, author.
1:01: Tommy muscling the clerk. Unit 3-B67, walkie-talkie: "The guy's pleading with Tommy. If Tommy pulls a weapon, I'll go in."
1:01: J.C. at a hot-dog stand.
1:03--1:04: Tommy driving northbound.
1:06: Unit 3-B67, walkie-talkie:
"I talked to the clown Tommy leaned on, and he said that Richie bought dirty magazines there. He said Richie said something about a pad in Lincoln Heights, and he told Tommy about it to get him off his back."
1:11: Tommy--Pasadena Freeway north.
1:14: Tommy--Lincoln Heights off-ramp.
1:19: J.C. eating lunch: five kraut dogs, Bromo Seltzer.
1:21: Lucille heading out in her Ford Vicky.
1:23: Tommy cruising North Broadway, Lincoln Heights.
1:26: Madge at home.
1:34: J.C. scarfing dessert: jelly doughnuts and beer.
1:49: Tommy cruising side streets, Lincoln Heights.
1:53: Lucille--Pasadena Freeway northbound.
1:56: Lucille--Lincoln Heights off-ramp.
1:59: 3-B67/3-B71--crosstalk:
Lucille cruising Lincoln Heights.
Tommy cruising Lincoln Heights.
North/south/east/west zigzags--missing each other.
Educated guess:
Two Richie chasers chasing Richie--cross-purposes.
Maybe Lucille got a phone tip-maybe the skin-mag clerk.
2:00--2:04: All J.C./Tommy/Lucille units:
No Richie Herrick sightings.
Transmitter static. I flipped dials--squelch, odd words: "multiple," "maybe mob stuff," "Watts."
A clerk tapped me. "Sorry, Lieutenant, a Code 3 screwed up the lines."
"What is it?"
"Homicides at the Haverford Wash. Maybe shotguns, maybe gangster stuff."
My hackles jumped. "You monitor band 7, I'm going."
o o o
Watts--Code 3, join the crowd: black & whites, lab vans, Fed cars. _Deep_ Watts--rural--fields, scattered shacks.
A bluff--cop vehicles at the edge. I skidded up and fishtailed in close.
Men looking down--Feds and LAPD combined. Push through, scope it:
A concrete run-off ditch--twenty feet deep.
Sewage water ankle-high--tech men kicking through it.
Blood streaks down the right-side embankment.
Four garbage-soaked bodies just below.
Steep cement leading down--I skidded all the way. Tech guys snapping pix--bulb light bouncing off bloody water.
I looked up:
Trees lining the embankment--good cover.
I looked down:
Shotgun shells bobbing in the muck.
Call it:
Tree-cover ambush--buckshot blew them down.
I sloshed over--techs swarming--more sirens up top. Four bottomsucking dead men--their backsides ripped tailbone to ribcage.
Jumbled voices on the bluff: Noonan, Shipstad, Exley. Lab men flipping bodies, getting gore-splashed.
Four stiffs face-up now--two white, two Mex. I made three: goons working Mickey C. coin.
Snap conclusion:
Dudley ambush--NO FACE SHOTS--Darktown slot geek victims.
Snap theory:
Staged killings for the Feds--some onus dropped on out-of-town gangs. A Dudley Smith charade--SOMEHOW.
Look:
Exley kicking up water--his cuffs soaked.
Noonan closer--trousers rolled, fucking garters.
Tech talk, scrambled:
Handguns on the stiffs.
Spent rounds up top--threads attached--the killers wore bulletproof vests.
Lab men swamping Exley, holding him back. Noonan on me, splashing me.
Waving photos--matching dead men--dead panicked.
"Oh God, oh no. We identified these--"
I steered him clear of Exley. Noonan kicked at the water--shotgun shells jumped.
"We identified these men. Mickey Cohen divested his Southside coin machines to them. They're part of a midwestern syndicate.... Mickey said they're the ones who killed those men of his who just disappeared a while ago. Mickey's got no stomach for the rackets anymore. .. . He sold them his coin business to get out of it."
Bullshit--actor Mickey--Glenda critiqued his "style."
Noonan: "We turned Mickey as a witness. We granted him immunity and promised him a Federal Service Medal. He thinks it will help him secure a district gambling franchise, which is absurd, since that bill will never pass the State Legislature."
Mr. U.S. Attorney--plaid garters.
"Klein, do _you_ know anything about this?"
"Major Witness" Mickey--confirmed. A flash: Bob Gallaudet supported district gambling.
Exley watching us.
"Klein--"
"No, I don't."
"This may hurt us. Mickey was going to testify against those men."
"Us"/"we"--Glenda juked Fed royal.
"I want an extra day before I enter custody."
"Under no circumstances. Don't ask me again, and don't even consider begging additional favors. This is your last day to resolve your curiosity vis-à-vis the Kafesjians, and as of tomorrow those curiosities will become a matter of Federal testimony."
Mr. U.S. Attorney--used rubbers stuck to his ankles.
"Who do you think killed these guys?"
"I would say East Coast mafiosi. I would say the word got out that Mickey divested his coin machines, and some East Coast men are attempting to crash the racket."
Clueless dumbfuck.
"Trust ME, lad"--Dudley Smith in my head.
Shouts up top:
"Mr. Noonan! Mr. Noonan, he's on the radio!"
Noonan splashed up the hill; Exley hooked a finger my way.
Duck him--up to the bluff fighting shivers. Fed cars, Feds: Shipstad, Noonan, Milner et fucking al.
Mickey Cohen on KMPC:
"... This is a public announcement undertaken in true sincerity, so I will say it now: I am severing my rackets connections. It is a mitzvah and a good deed of atonement, and I am coming forth to aid the Federal rackets probe currently doing business in Nigger--I mean Southside Los Angeles. I do this with great personal tsuris, which is the same as agony to you many Angeleno viewers and listeners who do not understand Yiddish. I am doing this severing because vicious midwestern hoodlums killed four of my men some months ago, and they are now threatening to kill my ex-wife, and let me now state that those rumors of her leaving me for some shvartze calypso singer are false. I am doing this severing because it is the moral thing to do as taught in the Bible, that wonderful perennial bestseller with many wonderful lessons for gentiles and Jews alike. I sold my Nig--I mean Southside vending-machine business to the midwestern hoodlums to save lives. I am now prepared to aid my dear friend U.S. Attorney Welles Noonan and his courageous. .
Mickey rambling.
Shipstad grinning.
Noonan trembling--wet feet, rage.
"... and the Federal rackets probe is undertaken out of principles espoused in the Bible, one of those goyishe chapters that serve as the basis of inspirational movies like _Samson and Delilah_ or maybe the scintillating _The Ten Commandments_."
Noonan: "Mickey's testimony is a bit anticlimactic now. I would like to blame these deaths on the Kafesjians, but vending machines have never been their raison d'être. Eight A.M. tomorrow, Brother Klein. Bring Kafesjian information, and don't even think of asking for an extension."
"Trust ME, lad"--Dudley Smith sweet as Jesus.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
4:09: J.C. and Madge at home.
4:16: Lucille walking-- Lincoln Heights--bars, newsstands.
4:23: Tommy walking--Lincoln Heights. Unit 3-B67: "I think he's checking out shooting galleries. He's hit four places the past two hours, and they look like hype pads to me."
4:36: Lucille walking.
4:41: Tommy walking.
3-B67: "I called the Highland Park Squad about those places Tommy hit. They said hype pads affirmative. Him and Lucille haven't run into each other yet, which goddamn amazes me."
4:53--4:59, all units: No Richie Herrick sightings.
5:02: Base to all J.C./Madge units: proceed to Lincoln Heights and saturate for Richie Herrick.
5:09: Lucille at Kwan's Chow Mein Pagoda. 3-B71: "She walked straight to the kitchen, and I _know_ this place. Uncle Ace Kwan sells white horse, so I'll bet Lucy didn't stop in for chop suey."
5:16: Lucille exiting the restaurant. 3-B71: "She looks nervous, and she's carrying a brown paper bag."
Weird--hype Lucille?--unlikely.
Junkie Richie--ditto.
Tommy cruising dope pads--????
5:21: Tommy pissing in the street in full view of children. 3-B67: "Jesus, what a whanger! This clown has gotta hold the white man's world record!"
A clerk nudged me; I pulled off my headset. "What is it?"
"High brass to see you. The parking lot, ASAP."
Exley.
Go--past the squadroom--civilian radio blaring: Gangland Slayings! Mickey Cohen Reforms! Outside-Dudley.
Lounging on a prowl car.
Breuning and Carlisle by the fence--out of earshot. Breuning wearing a herringbone coat--MOVIE TIME patterns.
"Hello, lad."
Don't flinch, don't move too sudden, don't tremble.
"I got your notes, lad."
I stepped closer. Smell him: bay rum cologne.
"I hope you availed yourself of a splendid mink stole for that lovely sister of yours. Is she still consorting with Jack Woods?"
"I've got Chick Vecchio stashed. He snitched you on the movie, the furs, you running Mickey and those slot guys you clipped in Watts."
"I would say you're dissembling. I would say Exley hearsay is your sole source of information. You're assuming I told Chick things that indeed I didn't, and frankly I doubt that he would speak indiscreetly, even under the most severe duress."
"Try to find him."
"Is he dead or just temporarily indisposed?"
"He's alive, and he'll talk to stay that way."
Breuning and Carlisle watching us bug-eyed.
"They can't hear us, lad."
Don't blink. Don't tremble--
"Lad, your notes stated that you wished to act independent of Edmund Exley. I found that encouraging, and your mention of money even more so."
"Breuning put that sword in my hand. I'll trade you Vecchio for him, the movie and fifty thousand."
"Mike was hardly the director of your cinema debut."
"Let's just say he pays."
"Lad, you surprise me. I had thought your homicidal tendencies to be strictly profit-motivated."
"I'm afraid you'll just have to accept this new aspect of my personality."
Dudley roared. "Lad, your sense of humor is beyond salutary, and I agree to your offer."
"Tonight then. A public place."
"Yes, my thoughts exactly. Shall we make it eight o'clock, the Hollywood Ranch Market parking lot?"
"Agreed."
"I'll have Mike bring the fifty. He'll think it's a payoff run, and he'll be told to accompany you to fetch Vecchio. Take him with you, and when things are settled, call me at AXminster 6-4031 to tell me where Chick can be found. And, lad? Mike will be wearing a vest--you should know that and aim accordingly."
"I'm surprised--you and Breuning go back."
"Yes, lad, but you and I go forward. And on that topic, how do you assess the extent of Edmund Exley's information?"
Seal it--touch him. That cologne--don't gag.
"Lad . . ."
I draped an arm around his shoulders. "He knows everything that I do and whatever else Johnny Duhamel told him. There's nothing on paper, and his Duhamel evidence is hearsay impossible to corroborate. He ran me against you on the Kafesjian burglary, and my only regret is that he's too big to kill."
"Are you saying our transgressions might go unpunished as a result of his lack of evidence?"
"I'm saying you'll skate--_if_ you curtail your plans with Mickey."
"And yourself, lad? Dare I proffer the word 'loyalty'?"
"It's the Feds, Exley or you. You're the only one with cash money."
Embracing me--Dudley Liam Smith. "You've made a wise choice, lad. We'll discuss Exley later, and I won't insult your intelligence with the word 'trust.'
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
6:16: J.C. and Madge at home.
6:21: Tommy prowling dope pads--Lincoln Heights.
6:27: Lucille prowling bars--Lincoln Heights.
6:34, all units: no Richie Herrick sightings.
6:41: Tommy eating dinner: Kwan's Chow Mein Pagoda.
3-B67, walkie-talkie: "I'm no lip reader, but I can tell Uncle Ace is telling Tommy how Lucille copped some white horse from him. Tommy's goddamn fuming. Oops, he's walking. 3-B67 to base, over and out."
6:50: Tommy cruising
Lincoln Heights--random zigzags.
6:54: Lucille walking--Lincoln Park-chatting up bums.
6:55, 6:56, 6:57, 6:58--Mike Breuning pictured dead a hundred ways.
NO--
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
". . . so I'll cross Dudley. I won't hand over Vecchio--and Dudley thinks I'm going to kill Breuning. We nail Breuning for the Duhamel killing, and _I'll_ eyewitness Tommy K. popping Steve Wenzel, which gives us a wedge on the Kafesjians. Breuning will fucking shit his pants when I ARREST him, then we'll--"
"Klein, will you calm down--"
"Calm down shit, I'm a lawyer, you listen to me."
"Klein--"
"No, you listen. Breuning snitches Dudley, then Gallaudet convenes a special County grand jury to hear evidence. We upstage the Feds on Narco and the Kafesjians tangential to Dudley, and I testify on the Duhamel killing and all conspiracies extant with the Kafesjians, Dan Wilhite, Narco, Smith, Mickey Cohen, my mob hits, all of it. I'm a cop, I'm an attorney, I'll be the goat, I'll testify when the trials start, the Feds'll be fucked, you'll look so good Welles Noonan'll wither up and die and Gas Chamber Bob'll ride the trials straight to the governorship and--"
"Klein--"
"Exley, PLEASE, let me do this. Dudley knows I'm a killer, and he thinks he's operating me on Breuning. Now, if I bring Breuning in, he'll punk out--without Dudley he's got no guts. Exley, PLEASE."
Tick tick tick tick tick--seconds/a minute--
"Do it."
Phone-booth sweats-drenched--I cracked the door for a breeze.
"And no backup men at the Ranch Market--Breuning might spot them."
"Agreed. Do it."
_______________________________________
Pay phone to pay phone--bug-fear precautions. Long distance--twenty dimes--Newton Station to Mel's Drive Inn, Fresno.
Glenda talked a blue streak:
Touch told Mickey she drove to TJ. for a scrape. Dig her new stand-in-- Rock Rockwell, full drag. Dig Fed witness Mickey on TV--blatant Vampire plugs.
Reckless Glenda--tell me everything.