L. A. Confidential

"I think we have our killers. And on that note, are you making progress with Miss Soto?"

"I'm working at it."

"Work harder. Good efforts are for schoolboys, results are what counts. Go to it, gentlemen."

Ed drove to his apartment-a change of clothes for the run to McNeil. He found a note on the door.

Exley-

I still think you're everything I said you were, but I called the house and talked to my sister and she said you came by and were obviously concerned about my welfare, so I'm thawing a little bit. You've been nice to me (when you weren't covering angles or beating up people) and maybe I'm an opportunist myself and I'm just using you for shelter until I get better and can accept Mr. Dieterling's offer, so since I live in a glass house I shouldn't throw stones at you. That's as close to an apology as I'm going to give you and I will continue to refuse to cooperate. Get the picture? Is Mr. Dieterling for real about a job at Dream-a-Dreamland? I'm going shopping today with the rest of the money you gave me. Keeping busy makes me think about it less. I'll come by tonight. Leave a light burning.

Inez

Ed changed and taped his spare key to the door. He left a light burning.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Jack in his car, waiting to tail Bud White. Mangled hands, fruit-caked clothes-a shift breaking down garage doors, high-spirited darkies japping the search teams-rooftop hit-and-runs. No luck on Coates' Merc; Millard's bomb still exploding, lucky he heard by phone-he would have shit his pants otherwise.

" Vince

He said, "No." He asked if the other guys on the squad hit pay dirt. Millard said, "No."

He didn't tell him his reports were all bullshit. He didn't tell him he didn't care if the smut gig and the Nite Owl were doubled up from here to Mars. He didn't tell him he wouldn't rest easy until he had Sid Hudgens' file in his hand and the niggers sucked gas-guilty or not.

Eyes on the bullpen back door: blues hauling in sex geeks. Bud White inside-rubber hose work. He blew his tail last night- Dudley was pissed. Tonight he'd stick close, then hit Hudgens: get the Malibu Rendezvous wiped.

White walked out. Good light: Jack saw blood on his shirt. He hit the ignition, waited.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

No colored lights-white light behind closed curtains. Bud pushed the buzzer.

The door opened-backlight on Ly

"That's right. Did Patchett tell you what it was about?"

She held the door open. "He said you weren't quite sure yourself, and he said I should be candid and cooperate with you."

"You do everything he tells you?"

"Yes, I do."

Bud walked in. Ly

"You finished?"

"No. I have no information on Dwight's other girls, and all I know about that Nite Owl thing is what I read in the papers. Satisfied?"

Bud almost laughed. "You and Patchett had «some» talk. Did he call you last night?"

"No, this morning. Why?"

"Never mind."

"It's Officer White, isn't it?"

"It's Bud."

Ly

"Yeah, pretty much."

"And you know why we're humoring you."

"You use words like that, you might make me mad."

"Yes. But you know."

"Yeah, I know. Patchett's ru

"That's right. Our motives are selfish, so we're cooperating."

"You want some advice, Miss Bracken?"

"It's Ly

"Miss Bracken, here's my advice. Keep cooperating and don't fucking ever try to bribe me or threaten me or I'll have you and Patchett in shit up to your ears."

Ly

"Yeah, plain scotch."

Ly

Bud knocked his back. "There's three men on it. It's a sex job, so they'll round up all the usual perverts. They'll give it a decent shot for a couple of weeks, then let it go."

"But you won't let it go."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Why are you so concerned?"

"Old stuff"

"Old personal stuff?"

"Yeah."

Ly

"That's coming down to these mg-colored guys we arrested. It's a big fucking mess."

"You say 'fuck' a lot."

"You fuck for money."

"There's blood on your shirt. Is that an integral part of your job?"

"Yeah."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"When they deserve it."

"Meaning men who hurt women."

"Bright girl."

"Did they deserve it today?"

"No."

"But you did it anyway."

"Yeah, just like the half dozen guys you screwed today."

Ly

"Off the record, I stuck his hand down a garbage disposal."

No gasp, no double take. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Well… no."

Ly

Bud sat on the sofa; Ly

"You look better than Veronica Lake."

Ly

"How do you know I got a lady friend?"

"Your jacket is a mess and reeks of perfume."

"You're wrong. This is me taking a pass on a pass."

"Which you..

"Yeah, which I seldom fucking do. Keep cooperating, Miss Bracken. Tell me about Pierce Patchett and this racket of his."

"Off the-"

"Yeah, off the record."

Ly

It played straight. "What else has Patchett got going?"

"Nothing illegal. He puts business deals and movie deals together. He advises his girls on business matters."

"Smut?"

"God, not Pierce. He likes to «do» it, not look at it."

"Or sell it?"

"Yes, or sell it."

Almost too smooth-like Patchett's smut hink needed a whitewash. "I'm starting to think you're snowing me. There's gotta be a perv deal here. Sugar-pimping's one thing, but you make this guy out to be fucking Jesus. Let's start with Patchett's 'little studio."'