Jack took a flashlight down under-Hilda Lefferts stood watching, so there. Dust, rot, mothball stink-light on dirt, rats, rat eyes glowing. Burlap, mothballs, gristle-caked bones, a skull with a hole between the eyes.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Ed watched Lynn Bracken through the two-way.
Kleckner was questioning her, a nice guy set-up for Mr. Bad Guy-himself. She'd been repentothaled; Ray Pinker was testing her blood. Three hours in a cell hadn't broken her-she was still lying with style.
Ed turned the speaker up. Kleckner: "I'm not saying that I don't believe you, I'm just saying my policeman's experience has shown me that pimps usually hate women, so I don't buy Patchett as such a philanthropist."
"You have to look at his background, how he lost a little girl to crib death. I'm sure your policeman's mentality can grasp the cause and effect, even if you can't accept it."
"Let's talk about his background then. You've described Patchett as a fmancier with L.A. roots going back thirty years. You've said that he puts deals together, so be specific about the deals."
Lynn sighed-pure panache. "Movie financing deals, real estate and contracting deals. Here's one for all you movie fans in the audience: Pierce told me he'd financed a few of Raymond Dieterling's early shorts."
Cozy: Bud White's girlfriend's pimp knew Preston Exley's good buddy. Kleckner changed tape. Ed studied the whore.
Beautiful-a good part of it hung on the fact that she wasn't perfect. Her nose was too pointed; she had crease lines on her forehead. Big shoulders, big hands-beautifully formed, all the more stunning for being large. Blue eyes that probably danced when a man said the right thing; she probably thought Bud White had primitive integrity and respected him for not trying to impress her with gifts he didn't have. She kept her clothing subtle because she knew it would make more of an impression on the people she wanted to impress; she thought most men were weak and trusted her brains to slide her through anything. Suppositions leading up to a hunch: couple her brains with the counterdope in her system and you got a pentothal-immune witness dissembling with impunity-and style.
"Captain, you got a call. It's Vincennes."
Fisk had his phone, stretched to the end of the cord. Ed took it. "Vincennes?"
"Yeah, and listen close, 'cause that scandal sheet story was kosher and there's lots more."
"White?"
"Yeah, White was that phony P.I., and he braced old lady Lefferts two months or so ago. She told him that story of her daughter's boyfriend who looked like Duke Cathcart and another doozie."
"«What?»"
"Just listen. A couple weeks before the Nite Owl, a neighbor saw Susie and the boyfriend alone at the house and heard them get into a ruckus with another guy. The boyfriend was seen crawling around under the house later that same day. Now, when White braced the old lady, he called P.C. Bell and checked their records for toll calls from the house to L.A. mid-March to mid-April '53. I did the same thing and got three tollers, all to a pay phone in Hollywood near the Nite Owl. Now, you think that's hot, you-"
"Goddammit-"
"Captain, «listen». White crawled around under the house and told granny there was nothing there. I went under and found a stiff, wrapped in mothballs to kill the stink and a fucking bullet hole in the head. I got Doc Layman up to San Berdoo. He brought Duke Carthcart's prison dental file, the Coroner's Office copy. It was a perfect match. The first ID was bogus, off a partial plate, just like that article said. Fuck, I can't believe White put all this together and just left the stiff there. Captain, you there?"
Ed grabbed Fisk. "Where's Bud White?"
Fisk looked scared. "I heard he went up north with Dudley Smith. The Mann Sheriff's decided to kick loose on the Engleklings."
Back to Trashcan. "That article said the woman saw some mugs."
"Yeah, White brought back some shots marked 'State Records Bureau.' Now we both know the state sets run light, so my guess is White didn't want to bring her down here to check our books. Anyway, she couldn't ID the boyfriend, and if the boyfriend was one of the Nite Owl stiffs we'll have him, 'cause Nort Layman took prison dental plate fragments out of his head back in '53. Bring her down? Show her our books?"
"Do it."
Fisk took the phone. Ray Pinker walked up, holding a chem sheet. "Prestilphyozine, Captain. It's an extremely rare experimental antipsychotic drug used to tranquilize violent mental patients. Somebody professional slipped it to our lady friend, because only a pro would know this breed of phyozine would be likely to counteract penthothal. Skipper, you should sit down, you look like you're about to have a coronary."
Chemistry whiz Patchett; the Englekling brothers' father: a themist who developed antipsychotic compounds. Bud White's whore across the glass-alone now, a tape recorder spinning.
Ed walked in. Lynn said, "You again?"
"That's right."
"Don't you have to charge me or release me?"
"Not for another sixty-eight hours."
"Aren't you violating my constitutional rights?"
"Constitutional rights have been waived for this one."
"«This one?»"
"Don't play dumb. This one is Pierce Patchett distributing pornography, including picture-book photographs that exactly match the mutilations on a murder victim, namely his late 'partner' Sid Hudgens. This one is one of the supposed Nite Owl victims tied in to a conspiracy to distribute that pornography and your friend Bud White withholding major evidence on who the real victim was. Now, White told you to cooperate and you came here under the influence of a drug to counteract penthothal. That's against you, but you can still save yourself «and White» a lot of trouble by cooperating."
"Bud can look after himself. And you look terrible. Your face is all red."
Ed sat down, turned off the tape. "You don't even feel the dosage, do you?"
"I feel like I've had four martinis, and four martinis just make me that much more lucid."
"Patchett sent you in without a lawyer to buy time, I know it. He knows you were called in as part of the Nite Owl reopening, so he knows he's a material witness at least. Personally, I don't see him as a killer. I know a great deal about Patchett's various enterprises, and you can save him a great deal of trouble by cooperating with me."
Lynn smiled. "Bud said you were quite smart."
"What else did he say?"
"That you were a weak, angry man competing with your father."
Let it pass. "Then let's concentrate on my smarts. Patchett is a chemist, and it may be reaching, but I'm betting he studied under Franz Englekling, a pharmacologist who developed drugs such as the antipsychotic compound Patchett put you under to beat the pentothal. Englekling had two sons, who were murdered in Northern California last month. Those two men came forward during the base Nite Owl investigation and mentioned a quote crazy sugar daddy-o unquote who had access to lots of quote high-class call girls unquote. Obviously Patchett, obviously tied to a would-be smut merchant named Duke Cathcart, one of the alleged Nite Owl victims. Obviously Patchett is all over this thing and in for some trouble he doesn't need and you can help circumvent."
Lynn lit a cigarette. "So you're very, very smart."
"Yes, and I'm a very good detective with a five-year backlog of withheld evidence to work from. I know about your file-burning episode, I know about Patchett's proposed extortion plan with Hudgens. I've read the deposition Vincennes bargained you with and I know all about Patchett's various enterprises, including Fleur-de-Lis."
"So you're assuming that Pierce has some very damaging information on Vincennes."
"Yes, which the district attorney and I will quash in the interest of protecting the reputation of the Los Angeles Police Department."