Some personal observations to supplant your outside agency report. (1) Ed's relationship with Inez Soto is physically intimate, but I know he would never violate departmental regs by cohabitating with her. Inez is a great kid, by the way. She's become good friends with Preston, Ray Dieterling and myself, and her public relations work for Dream-a-Dreamland is near briffiant. And so what if she's a Mexican? (2)1 spoke to I.A. Sgts. Fisk and Kieckner about Ed--the two worked Robbery under him, are junior straight-arrow Exley types and are positively ecstatic that their hero is about to become their C.O. (3) As someone who has known Ed Exley since he was a child, and as an ex--police officer, I'll go on the record: he's as good as his father and I'd be willing to bet that if you made a tally you'd see that he's made more major cases than any LAPD detective ever. I'm also willing to bet that he's wise to this affectionate little ploy you've initiated: all good cops have intelligence networks.
I'll close with a favor. I'm thinking of writing a book of reminiscences about my years with the Department. Would it be possible for me to borrow the file on the Loren Atherton case? Without Preston and Ed knowing, please--I don't want them to think I've gone arty-farty in my waning years.
I hope this little addendum serves you well. Best to Helen, and thanks for the opportunity to be a cop again.
Sincerely,
Art De Spain
LAPD TRANSFER BULLETINS
1. Officer Wendell A. White, Homicide Division to the Hollywood Station Detective Squad (and to assume the rank of Sergeant), effective 1/2/5 8.
2. Sgt. John Vincennes, Surveillance Detail to Wilshire Division Patrol, effective when a replacement officer is assigned, but no later than 3/15/58.
3. Capt. Edmund J. Exley to permanent duty station: Commander, Internal Affairs Division, effective 1/2/5 8.
PART THREE
Internal Affairs
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The Dining Car had a New Year's hangover: drooping crepe paper, "1958" signs losing spangles. Ed took his favorite booth: a view of the lounge, his image in a mirror. He marked the time--3:24 P.M., 1/2/58. Let Bob Gallaudet show up late--anything to stretch the moment.
In an hour, the ceremony: Captain E. J. Exley assumes a permanent duty station--Commander, Internal Affairs Division. Gallaudet was bringing the results of his outside agency validation--the D.A.'s Bureau had gone over his personal life with a magnifying glass. He'd pass--his personal life was squeaky clean, putting the Nite Owl boys in the ground outgunned his Bloody Christmas snitching--he'd known it for years.
Ed sipped coffee, eyes on the mirror. His reflection: a man a month from thirty-six who looked forty-five. Blond hair gone gray; crease lines in his forehead. Inez said his eyes were getting smaller and colder; his wire rims made him look harsh. He'd told her harsh was better than soft--boy captains needed help. She'd laughed--it was a few years ago, when they were still laughing.
He placed the conversation: late '54, Inez analytical--"You're a ghoul for watching that man Stensland die." A year and a half post--Nite Owl; today made four years and nine months. A look in the mirror, a claim on those years--and what he'd had with Inez.
His killings pushed Bud White out: four deaths eclipsed one death. Those first months she was all his: he'd proven himself to her specifications. He bought her a house down the block; she loved their gentle sex; she accepted Ray Dieterling's job offer. Dieterling fell in love with Inez and her story: a beautiful rape victim abandoned by her family dovetailed with his own losses-- once divorced, once widowered, his son Paul dead in an avalanche, his son Billy a homosexual. Ray and Inez became father and daughter--colleagues, deep friends. Preston Exley and Art De Spain joined Dieterling in devotion--a circle of hardcase men and a woman who made them grateful for the chance to feel gentle.
Inez took friendships from a fantasy kingdom: the builders, the second generation--Billy Dieterling, Timmy Valburn. A chatty little clique: they talked up Hollywood gossip, poked fun at male foibles. The word "men" sent them into gales of laughter. They made fun of policemen and played charades in a house bought by Captain Ed Exley.
All claims came back to Inez.
After the killings, he had nightmares: were they innocent? Impotent rage made his finger jerk the trigger; the dramatic resolution made the Department look so good that little facts like "Unarmed" and "Not Dangerous" would never surface to crush him. Inez stilled his fears with a statement: the rapists drove her to Sylvester Fitch's house in the middle of the night and left her there--giving them time to take down the Nite Owl. She never told the police about it because she did not want to recount the especially ugly things that Fitch did to her. He was relieved: _guilty_ dead men shored up the justice in his rage.
Inez.
Time passed, the glow wore off--her pain and his heroism couldn't sustain them. Inez knew he'd never marry her: a high-ranking cop, a Mexican wife--career suicide. His love held by threads; Inez grew remote--a sometime lover in practice. Two people molded by extraordinary events, a powerful supporting cast hovering: the Nite Owl dead, Bud White.
White's face in the green room: pure hatred while Dick Stensland sucked gas. A look at Dicky Stens dying, a look his way, no words necessary. Leave time called in so they wouldn't have to work together when he took over Homicide. He'd surpassed his brother, grown closer to his father. His major case record was astounding; in May he'd be an inspector, in a few years he'd compete with Dudley Smith for chief of detectives. Smith had always given him a wide berth and a wary respect couched in contempt--and Dudley was the most feared man in the LAPD. Did he know that his rival feared only one thing: revenge perpetrated by a thug/cop without the brains to be imaginative?
The bar was filling up: D.A.'s personnel, a few women. The last time with Inez was bad--she just serviced the man who paid the mortgage. Ed smiled at a tall woman--she turned away.
"Congratulations, Cap. You're Boy Scout clean."
Gallaudet sat down--strained, nervous.
"Then why do you look so grim? Come on, Bob, we're partners."
"_You're_ clean, but Inez was put under loose surveillance for two weeks, just routine. Ed . . . oh shit, she's sleeping with Bud White."
o o o
The ceremony--one big blur.
Parker made a speech: policemen were subject to the same temptations as civilians, but needed to keep their baser urges in check to a greater degree in order to serve as moral exemplars for a society increasingly undercut by the pervasive influence of Communism, crime, liberalism and general moral turpitude. A morally upright exemplar was needed to command the division that served as a guarantor of police morality, and Captain Edmund J. Exley, war hero and hero of the Nite Owl murder case, was that man.
He made a speech himself: more pap on morality. Duane Fisk and Don Kleckner wished him luck; he read their minds through his blur: they wanted his chief assistant spots. Dudley Smith winked, easy to read: "I will be our next chief of detectives--not you." Excuses for leaving took forever--he made it to her place with the blur clearing hard.
6:00--Inez got home around 7:00. Ed let himself in, waited with the lights out.
Time dragged; Ed watched his watch hands move. 6:50--a key in the door.
"Exley, are you skulking? I saw your car outside."
"No lights. I don't want to see your face." Noises--keys rattling, a purse dropped to the floor. "And I don't want to see all that faggot Dreamland junk you've plastered on the walls."
"You mean the walls of the house you paid for?"
"You said it, not me."