Ellroy – White Jazz

Side 10

Ellroy – White Jazz

“Yeah, he’s a likable local celebrity. Apparently Mickey C. made some kind of half-baked attempt to muscle his contract, so Noonan probably wanted to use Mickey for _his_ marquee value.”

Exley, shiv shot: “And we know you’re an expert on Mickey Cohen.”

“We go back, Chief.”

“In what capacity?”

“I’ve offered him some free legal advice.”

“Such as?”

“Such as ‘Don’t fuck with the LAPD.’ Such as ‘Watch out for Chief of Detectives Exley, because he never tells you exactly what he wants.'”

Gallaudet, calm: “Come on, enough. Mayor Poulson asked me to call this meeting, so we’re on his time. And I have an idea, which is to keep Ruiz on our side. We use him as a front man to placate the Mexicans in Chavez Ravine, so if the evictions go down ugly, we have him as our PR guy. Doesn’t he have some kind of burglary jacket?”

I nodded. “Juvie time for B&E. I heard he used to belong to a burglary gang, and I know his brothers pull jobs. You’re right–we should use him, promise to keep his family out of trouble if he goes along.”

Van Meter: “I like it.”

Gallaudet: “What about Diskant?”

I hit hard. “He’s a pinko, so he has to have some Commie associates. I’ll find them and strongarm them. We’ll put them on TV, and they’ll snitch him.”

Bob, head shakes: “No. It’s too vague and there’s not enough time.”

“Girls, boys, liquor–give me a weakness. Look, I screwed up last night. Let me do penance.”

Silence: long, _loud_. Van Meter, off a sigh: “I heard he loves young women. He supposedly cheats on his wife very discreetly. He likes college girls. Young, idealistic.”

Bob, a smirk fading: “Dudley Smith can set it up. He’s done this kind of thing before.”

Exley, weird emphatic: “No, not Dudley. Klein, do you know the right people?”

“I know an editor at _Hush-Hush_. I can get Pete Bondurant for the pix, Fred Turentine for bugging. Ad Vice popped a call house last week, and we’ve got just the right girl sweating bail.”

Stares all around. Exley, half smiling: “So do your penance, Lieutenant.”

Bob G.–diplomat. “He let me study his crib sheets in law school. Be nice, Ed.”

Exit line–he waltzed, Van Meter walked hangdog.

Say it: “Will the Feds ask for an investigation?”

“I doubt it. Johnson did ninety days observation at Camarillo last year, and the doctors there told Noonan he was unstable. Six FBI men canvassed for witnesses and got nowhere. They’d be stupid to pursue an investigation. You’re clean, but I don’t like the way it looks.”

“You mean criminal negligence?”

“I mean your longstanding and somewhat well-known criminal associations. I’ll be Side 11

Ellroy – White Jazz

kind and say you’re ‘acquainted’ with Mickey Cohen, a focus of the investigation your negligence destroyed. Imaginative people might make a slight jump to

‘criminal conspiracy,’ and Los Angeles is filled with such people. You see how–”

“Chief, listen to–”

“No, you listen. I gave you and Stemmons that assignment because I trusted your competence and I wanted an attorney’s assessment of what the Feds had planned in our jurisdiction. What I got was ‘Hallelujah, I Can Fly’ and ‘Detective Snoozes While Witness Jumps Out Window.'”

Quash a laugh. “So what’s the upshot?”

“You tell me. Assess what the Feds have planned past the fight probe.”

“I’d say with Johnson dead, not much. Ruiz told me Noonan had some vague plans to mount an investigation into the Southside rackets–dope, the Darktown slot and vending machines. If that probe flies, the Department could be made to look bad. But _if_ it goes, Noonan will announce it first–he’s headline happy. We’ll get a chance to prepare.”

Exley smiled. “Mickey Cohen runs the Southside coin business. Will you warn him to get his stuff out?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Off the topic, did you read my report on the bookie house?”

“Yes. Except for the shots fired, it was salutary. What is it? You’re looking at me like you want something.”

I poured coffee. “Throw me a bone for the Diskant job.”

“You’re in no position to ask favors.”

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