Carpenter/Wenzel/Orchard–I swung an address circuit south/ northwest. Nobody home–circuit south, crack the wind wings-cold air cleared my head.
Make Junior dead or dead soon–faggot-smear him postmortem. Leak queer dirt to _Hush-Hush_–taint his Glenda dirt. Retoss his pad, dump evidence-pump his shakedown victims. Work Kafesjian 459–and tie in Junior dirty. Question mark: his Exley file.
Brain circuits:
Exley proffers my Kafesjian payoff: Robbery Division CO. It’s a shiv to Dudley Smith, the fur-job boss–the perp his “protÈgÈ” Johnny Duhamel.
Johnny and Junior–heist partners?
My instinct: unlikely.
Reflex instinct: hand Johnny up to Dud-deflect Exley’s shiv, curry Dud’s favor.
South, hit the gas: talk had Smith working 77th. Over–newsmen outside-a captain grandstanding:
Ignore Negro-victim 187s–never!
Watch for zealous justice soon!
Door guards kept reporters out: civilians verboten, zealotry wrapped.
I badged in. Sweat box row was packed: nigger suspects, two cop teams twirling saps.
“Lad.”
Smith in the bullpen doorway. I walked over; he shot me a bonecrusher shake.
“Lad, was it me you came to see?”
Sidestep: “I was looking for Breuning and Carlisle.”
Side 107
Ellroy – White Jazz
“Ahh, grand. Those bad pennies should turn up, but in the meantime share a colloquy with old Dudley.”
Chairs right there-I grabbed two.
“Lad, in my thirty years and four months as a policeman I have never seen anything quite like this Federal business. You’ve been on the Department how long?”
“Twenty years and a month.”
“Ah, grand, with your wartime service included, of course. Tell me, lad, is there a difference between killing Orientals and white men?”
“I’ve never killed a white man.”
Dud winked–oh, you kid. “Nor have I. Jungle bunnies account for the seven men I have killed in the line of duty, stretching a point to allow for them as human.
Lad, this Federal business is damningly provocative, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Concisely put. And in that concise attorney’s manner of yours, what would you say is behind it?”
“Politics. Bob Gallaudet for the Republicans, Welles Noonan for the Democrats.”
“Yes, strange bedfellows. And ironic that the Federal Government should be represented by a man with fellow-traveler tendencies. I understand that that man spat in your face, lad.”
“You’ve got good eyes out there, Dud.”
“Twenty-twenty vision, all my boys. Lad, do you hate Noonan? It’s safe to say that he”–wink–“considers you negligent in the matter of Sanderline Johnson’s unscheduled flight.”
I winked back. “He thinks I bought him the ticket.”
Ho, ho, ho. “Lad, you dearly amuse this old man. By any chance were you raised Catholic?”
“Lutheran.”
“Aah, a Prod. Christianity’s second string, God bless them. Do you still believe, lad?”
“Not since my pastor joined the German-American Bund.”
“Aah, Hitler, God bless him. A bit unruly, but frankly I preferred him to the Reds. Lad, did your second-string faith feature an equivalent to confession?”
“No.”
“A pity, because at this moment our interrogation rooms are filled with confessees and confessors, that grand custom being utilized to offset any untoward publicity this Federal business might foist upon the Department. Brass tacks, lad. Dan Wilhite has told me of Chief Exley’s potentially provocative fixation on the Kafesjian family, with you as his agent provocateur. Lad, will you confess your opinion of what the man wants?”
Sidestep: “I don’t like him any more than you do. He got chief of detectives over you, and I wish to hell you’d gotten the job.”
“Grand sentiments, lad, which of course I share. But what do you think the man is doing?”
Side 108
Ellroy – White Jazz
Feed him–my Johnny snitch prelim. “I think–maybe–he’s sacrificing Narco to the Feds. It’s a largely autonomous division, and _maybe_ he’s certain that the Fed probe will prove successful enough to require a scapegoat that will protect the rest of the Department _and_ Bob Gallaudet. Exley is two things: intelligent and ambitious. I’ve always thought that he’ll get tired of police work and try politics himself, and we know how tight he is with Bob. I think–_maybe_–he’s convinced Parker to let Narco go, with his eye on his own goddamn future.”
“A brilliant interpretation, lad. And as for the Kafesjian burglary itself, and your role as Exley’s chosen investigating officer?”
I ticked points: “You’re right, I’m an agent provocateur. Chronologically: Sanderline Johnson jumps, and now Noonan hates me. The Southside Fed probe is already rumored, and the Kafesjian burglary occurs coincident to it. Coincident to _that_, I operate a pinko politician who’s enamored of Noonan. Now, the Kafesjian burglary is nothing–it’s a pervert job. But the Kafesjians are scum personified and tight with the LAPD’s most autonomous and vulnerable division.