“I don’t recall endorsing that statement.”
“You didn’t dispute it.”
“I was tired and bored.”
“You endorsed it, implicitly. And it’s in Jack Vincennes’ deposition.”
“Then perhaps Vincennes lied about that part. He used to be quite a celebrity. Wouldn’t you also call him quite a selfdramatist?”
An opening. “Yes.”
“And do you think you can trust him?”
Fake chagrin oozing. “I don’t know. He’s my weak point.”
“So there you are. Mr. Exley, are you going to arrest me?”
“I’m beginning to think it wouldn’t do any good. What did White say when he told you to come in for questioning?”
“Just to come clean. Did you show him Vincennes’ deposition?”
The truth–make her grateful. “No.”
“I’m glad, because I’m sure it’s full of lies. Why didn’t you show it to him?”
“Because he’s a limited detective, and the less he knows the better. He’s also a protégé of a rival officer on the case, and I didn’t want him passing information to him.”
“Are you speaking of Dudley Smith?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“No, but Bud speaks of him often. I think he’s afraid of him, which means that Smith must be quite a man.”
“Dudley’s brilliant and vicious to the core, but I’m better. And look, it’s late.”
“Can I give you a drink?”
“Why? You spat in my face today.”
“Well, given the circumstances.”
Her smile made his smile easy. “Given the circumstances, one drink.”
Lynn got out of the car. Ed watched her move: high heels, a shit day–but her feet hardly touched the ground. She led him to her building, unlocked the bottom door and hit a light.
Ed walked in. Exquisite–the fabrics, the art. Lynn kicked off her shoes and poured brandies; Ed sat on a sofa–pure velvet.
Lynn joined him. Ed took his drink, sipped. Lynn warmed the glass with her hands. “Do you know why I invited you in?”
“You’re too inteffigent to try to wrangle a deal, so I’ll guess you’re just curious about me.”
“Bud hates you more than he loves me or anyone else. I’m beginning to see why.”
“I don’t really want your opinion.”
“I was leading up to a compliment.”
“Some other time, all right?”
“I’ll change the subject then. How’s Inez Soto handling the publicity? She’s been all over the papers.”
“She’s taking it poorly, and I don’t want to talk about her.”
“It galls you that I know so much about you. You don’t have information to compete.”
Move the wedge. “I have Vincennes’ deposition.”
“Which I suspect you doubt the truth of.”
Throw the change-up. “You mentioned that Patchett financed some early Raymond Dieterling films. Can you elaborate on that?”
“‘Why? Because your father is associated with Dieterling? You see the disadvantages of being the son of a famous man?”
No hink, a deft touch with the knife. “Just a policeman’s question.”
Lynn shrugged. “Pierce mentioned it to me in passing several years ago.”
The phone rang–Lynn ignored it. “I can tell you don’t want to talk about Jack Vincennes.”
“I can tell you do.”
“I haven’t seen much in the news about him lately.”
“That’s because he flushed everything he had down the toilet. _Badge of Honor_, his friendship with Miller Stanton, all of it. Sid Hudgens getting murdered didn’t help, since _Hush-Hush_ owed half its filth to Vincennes’ shakedowns.”
Lynn sipped brandy. “You don’t like Jack.”
“No, but there’s part of his deposition that I believe absolutely. Patchett has carbons of Sid Hudgens’ private dirt files, including a carbon of a file on Vincennes himself. You can do yourself some good by acknowledging it.”
If she bit she’d start now.
“I can’t acknowledge it, and the next time we speak I’ll have a lawyer. But I can tell you that I think I know what such a file would contain.”
First wedge in place. “And?”
“Well, I think the year was 1947. Vincennes got involved in a gunfight at the beach. He was under the influence of narcotics and shot and killed two innocent people, a husband and wife. My source has verification, including the testimony of an ambulance deputy and a notarized statement from the doctor who treated Jack for his wounds. My source has blood test results that show the drugs in his system and testimony from eyewitnesses who didn’t come forth. Is that information you’d suppress to protect a brother officer, Captain?”