L. A. Confidential

"Go out the back way. I think I still hear the vultures."

The recoil got squared driving back.

Call it standard elimination procedure:

If his father really did know Ray Dieterling during the time of the Atherton case, he had a valid reason for not revealing it, he was probably embarrassed at plumbing business deals with a man he once rubbed shoulders with in the process of a hellish murder investigation. Preston Exley believed that policemen striking friendships with influential civilians was inimical to the concept of impartial absolute justice, and if he fell short of his own standards it was understandable that he would not want the fact known.

Squared with love and respect.

Ed made the Dining Car early; the maître d' said his guest was waiting. He walked back to his favorite booth-a private nook behind the bar. Vince

Ed sat down. "That's tape off a bug?"

Vince

The man looked shot. "Good work, Jack. Really, I mean it."

"Thanks, and that first name bit just went over large."

Ed picked up a menu, emptied his pockets underneath it. "It's midnight and I'm all out of subtlety."

"You're working up to something. What'd you get out of Bracken?"

"Nothing but lies. And you're right, Sergeant. The McNeil end is dead for now."

"So?"

"So tomorrow I'm hitting Patchett. I'm sealing l.A. off from Dudley and his men and bringing in Terry Lux, Chester Yorkin and every Patchett flunky that Fisk and Kleckner can find."

"Yeah, but what about Bracken and Patchett?"

Ed saw Ly

Trash slammed his head down on two clenched fists. Ed said, "I told her you'd do anything to get the file back. I told her you still love dope and you're in hock to some bookies. You're up for a trial board and you want to crash Patchett's rackets."

Vince

Ed picked up his menu. Underneath: heroin, Benzedrine, a switchblade, a 9mm automatic. "You're going to shake Patchett down. He snorts heroin, so you offer him some. If you want some stuff to get your own juice up, you've got it. You're going after him to get your file back and to find out who made the blood smut and killed Hudgens. I'm working on a script, and you'll have it by tomorrow night. You're going to scare the shit out of Patchett and you're going to do whatever it takes to get what we both want. I know you can do it, so don't make me threaten you."

Vince

"Then kill him."

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Opium fumes banged his head; chink backtalk banged it worse: "Spade not here, my place have police sanction, I pay I pay!" Uncle Ace Kwan sent him to Fat Dewey Shin, who sent him to a string of dens on Alameda-Spade was there, but Spade was gone, "I pay! I pay!," try Uncle Minh, Uncle Chin, Uncle Chan. The Chinatown runaround, it took him hours to figure it out, a shuffle from enemy to enemy. Uncle Da

Chinatown dead for now.

Bud called the D.A.'s Bureau, gave the squad whip his Perkins/Cooley leads; the man yawned along, signed off bored. Out to the Strip; the Cowboy Rhythm Band on stage, no Spade, nobody had seen him in a couple of days. Hillbilly clubs, local bars, night spots-no sightings of Do

Rain came on-a downpour. Bud counted taillights to stay awake: red dots, hypnotizing. He made Nottingham Drive near gone-dizzy, numb in the limbs.

Ly

She stepped back. Bud said, "I was worried. I kept calling you last night before things got crazy."

"Crazy how?"

"The morning, it's too long a story for now. How did it-" Ly

"More what?"

"I'm thinking that it's over with Pierce. In the morning, sweetie. Both our stories for breakfast."

Bud leaned on the porch rail. Lightning lit up the street-and dry tears on Ly

"It's Exley, but not what you're thinking. And I know why you hate him so much."

"What do you mean?"

"That he's just the opposite of all the good things you are. He's more like I am."

"I don't get it."

"Well, it's a credibility he has for being so calculating. I started out hating him because you do, then he made me realize some things about Pierce just by being who he is. He told me some things he didn't have to, and my own reactions surprised me."

More lightning-Ly

"For instance Jack Vince

"How did you get so friendly with Exley?"

Ly

"I'm exhausted tonight."

"That's not what I meant."

Bud turned on the porch light. "You go

"We just talked."

Her makeup was tear streaked-it was the first time he'd seen her not beautiful. "So tell me about it."

"In the morning."

"No, now."

"Honey, I'm as tired as you are."

Her little half smile did it. "You slept with him."

Ly

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

IAD-packed.

Chester Yorkin, the Fleur-de-Lis delivery man, stashed in booth -1; in 2 and 3: Paula Brown and Lorraine Malvasi, Patchett whores-Ava Gardner, Rita Hayworth. Lamar Hinton, Bobby Inge, Christine Bergeron and son could not be located; ditto the smut posers-Fisk and Kleckner failed to make them from extensive mugbook prowls. In booth 4: Sharon Kostenza, real name Mary Alice Mertz, a plum off Vince

Ray Pinker standing by with counterdope-so far none of the new fish looked drugged.

Two officers guarding the squadroom-private interrogations-strict l.A. autonomy.

Kleckner and Fisk grilling Mertz and pseudo Ava-armed with deposition copies, smut photos, a case summary. Yorkin, Lux and phony Rita cooling their heels.

Ed worked in his office: draft three of Vince