L. A. Confidential

"Please do."

Notebook out. "You said Gilette was pimping Ly

"I dislike the word 'pimp,' but yes."

"Okay, were any of your other girls street-pimped, callpimped?"

"No, all my girls are either models or girls that I saved from general Hollywood heartbreak."

Switcheroo. "You don't read the papers too good, right?"

"Correct. I try to avoid bad news."

"But you heard of the Nite Owl Massacre."

"Yes, because I do not dwell in a cave."

"That guy Duke Cathcart was one of the victims. He was a pimp, and lately a guy's been asking around about him, trying to get girls to do call jobs for him. Now Gilette street -pimped Kathy Janeway, and you know him. I'm thinking maybe you might do business with some other people who might give me a line on this guy."

Patchett crossed his legs, stretched. "So you think 'this guy' might have killed Kathy Janeway?"

"No, I don't think that."

"Or you think he's behind that Nite Owl thing. I thought Negro youths were supposed to be the killers. What crime are you investigating, Mr. White?"

Bud gripped the chair-fabric ripped. Patchett put his hands up, palms out. "The answer to your questions is no. Dwight Gilette is the only person of that breed I've ever dealt with. Low-level prostitution is not my field of expertise."

"What about B &E?"

"B and E?"

"Breaking and entering. Cathcart's apartment was tossed, and the walls were wiped."

Patchett shrugged. "Mr. White, you're speaking in Sanskrit now. I simply don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah? Then what about smut? You know Gilette, Gilette sold you Ly

"Smut" buzzed him-little eye flickers. Bud said, "Ring a bell?"

Patchett picked up a glass, swirled ice cubes. "No bells, and your questions are getting further and further afield. Your approach has been novel, so I've tolerated it. But you're wearing me thin and I'm begi

Bud stood up pissed, no handle on the man. Patchett said, "One of your tangents is personal with you, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"If it's the Janeway girl, I meant what I said. I may suborn women into ifficit activities, but they're handsomely compensated, I treat them very well and make sure the men they deal with show them every due respect. Good night, Mr. White."

Thoughts for the ride: how did Patchett get his number so quick, did his evidence suppression bit backfire- Dudley suspicious, wise to how far he'd go to hurt Exley. Ly

Red, blue, yellow-figures cut through the beams. Bud watched his very own stag show.

A Veronica Lake dead ringer, nude on her tiptoes: slender, full breasted. Blond-hair in a perfect pageboy cut. A man moving inside her, straining, crouching for the fit.

Bud watched; street sounds faded. He blotted out the man, studied the woman: every inch of her body in every shade of light. He drove home tu

Inez Soto on his doorstep.

Bud walked over. She said, "I was at Exley's place in Lake Arrowhead. He said there was no strings, then he showed up and told me I had to take this drug to make me remember. I told him no. Did you know you're the only Wendell White in the Central Directory?"

Bud straightened her hat, tucked a loose piece of veil under the crown. "How'd you get down here?"

"I took a cab. A hundred of Exley's dollars, so at least he's good for something. Officer White, I don't want to remember."

"Sweetie, you already do. Come on, I'll fix you up with a place."

"I want to stay with you."

"All I've got's a fold-out."

"Fine by me. I figure there has to be a first time again."

"Give it a rest and get yourself a college boy."

Inez stood up. "I was starting to trust him."

Bud opened the door. The first thing he saw was the bed- trashed from Carolyn or whatever her name was. Inez plopped down on it-seconds later she was sleeping. Bud tucked her in, stretched out in the hail with his suitcoat for a pillow. Sleep came slow-his long strange day kept replaying. He went out seeing Ly

He let her stay.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

He knew he was dreaming, knew he couldn't stop. He kept flinching with the replay.

Inez at the cabin: "Coward," "Opportunist," "Using me to further your career." Her out-the-door salvo: "Officer White's ten times the man you are, with half the brains and no big-shot daddy." He let her go, then chased: back to L.A., the Soto family shack. Three pachuco brothers came on strong; old man Soto supplied an epitaph: "I don't have that daughter no more."

The phone rang. Ed rolled over, grabbed it. "Exley."

"It's Bob Gallaudet. Congratulate me."

Ed pushed his dream away. "Why?"

"I passed the bar exam, making me both an attorney and a D.A.'s Bureau investigator. Aren't you impressed?"

"Congratulations, and you didn't call at 8:00 A.M. to tell me that."

"Right you are, so listen close. Last night a lawyer named Jake Kellerman called Ellis Loew. He's representing two witnesses, brothers, who say they've got a viable Duke Cathcart co

Ed swung out of bed. "So who are these brothers?"

"Peter and Baxter Englekling. Heard of them?"

"No. Is this an interrogation?"

Gallaudet laughed. "Wouldn't you love that. No, it's Kellerman reads a prepared statement, we hobknob with Loew over whether to let them turn state's and take it from there. I'll brief you. Mirimar parking lot in forty-five minutes?"

"I'll be there."

Forty-five on the button. Gallaudet met him in the lobby-no handshake, straight to it. "Want to hear what we've got?"

"Go."

They talked walking. "They're waiting for us, a steno included, and what we've got are Pete and Bar Englekling, age thirty-six, age thirty-two, San Bernardino -based… quasi-hoods, I guess you'd call them. They both did Youth Authority time for pushing maryjane back in the early '40s, and except for the be

"This won't be dull. But do «you» make Cohen for the Nite Owl? He's in prison, for one thing."

"Exley, I make those colored guys in custody. Gangsters «never» kill i

Into suite 309, the meeting in a small living room. One long table-Loew and Millard across from three men: a middle-aged lawyer, near twins in overalls-thi