Fisk rapped on the door. “Sir, I brought Lux and Geisler back.”
“And?”
“Geisler gave me a prepared statement.”
“Read it.”
Fisk pulled Out a sheet. “‘Pertaining to my relationship with Pierce Morehouse Patchett, I, Terence Lux, M.D., do offer the following notarized statement. To wit: my relationship with Pierce Patchett is professional: i.e., I have performed extensive plastic surgery on a number of male and female acquaintances of his, perfecting already existing resemblances to exact resemblances of several notable actors and actresses. Unsubstantiated rumors hold that Patchett employs these young people for purposes of prostitution, but I have no conclusive evidence that this is true. Duly sworn,’ et cetera.”
Ed said, “Not good enough. Duane, you take Yorkin and Rita Hayworth across the street and book them. Aiding and Abetting, and leave the arrest dates blank. Allow them one phone call each, then go down to Long Beach and seize 8819 Linden. That’s a Fleur-de-Lis drop, and I’m sure Patchett’s cleaned it out, but do it anyway. If you find the place virgin, bust it up and leave the door open.”
Fisk swallowed. “Uh, sir? Bust it up? And no booking date on our suspects?”
“_Bust it up. Make a statement. And don’t question my orders_.”
Fisk said, “Uh, yes, sir.” Ed closed the door, buzzed Kleckner. “Don, send Dr. Lux and Mr. Geisler in.”
“Yes, sir,” loud on the intercom. Whispered: “They’re pissed, Captain. Thought you should know.”
Ed opened the door. Geisler and Lux walked up–brusque.
No handshakes. Geisler said, “Franidy, that lunch didn’t begin to cover the hourly rate I’m going to have to charge Dr. Lux. I think it’s reprehensible that he came here voluntarily and was kept waiting so long.”
Ed smiled. “I apologize. I accept the formal statement you offered and I have no real questions for Dr. Lux. I have just one favor to ask and a large one to grant in return. And send me your bill, Mr. Geisler. You know I can afford it.”
“I know your father can. Continue, please. You’re holding my interest so far.”
Ed to Lux. “Doctor, I know who you know and you know who I know. And I know you deal in legal morphine cures. Help me with something and I’ll pledge my friendship.”
Lux cleaned his nails with a scalpel. “The _Daily News_ says you’re obsolescent.”
“They’re mistaken. Pierce Patchett and heroin, Doctor. I’ll settle for rumors and I won’t ask for your sources.”
Geisler and Lux went into a huddle–a step out the door, whispers. Lux broke it off. “I’ve heard Pierce is connected to some very bad men who want to control the heroin trade in Los Angeles. He’s quite the chemist, you know, and he’s been developing a special blend for years. Hormones, antipsychotic strains, quite a brew. I’ve heard it puts regular heroin to shame, and I heard it’s ready to be manufactured and sold. One in my column, Captain. Jerry, take the man at his word and send him my bill.”
o o o
Semipro, pro–his new lines all spelled HEROIN. Ed called Bob Gallaudet, left a message with his secretary: Nite Owl maybe breaking–call me. A picture on his desk hooked him: Inez and his father at Arrowhead. He called Lynn Bracken.
“Hello?”
“Lynn, it’s Exley.”
“God, hello.”
“You didn’t go to Patchett, did you?”
“Did you think I would? Were you setting me up to?”
Ed laid the picture face down. “I want you to get out of L.A. for a week or so. I have a place at Lake Arrowhead, you can stay there. Leave this afternoon.”
“Is Pierce . . .”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Will you come up?”
Ed checked the Vincennes script. “As soon as I set something up. Have you seen White?”
“He came and went, and I don’t know where he is. Is he all right?”
“Yes. No, shit, I don’t know. Meet me at Fernando’s on the lake. It’s right by my place. Say six?”
“I’ll be there.”
“I figured you’d take some convincing.”
“I’ve already convinced myself of lots of things. Leaving town just makes it easier.”
“_Why_, Lynn?”
“The party was over, I guess. Do you think keeping your mouth shut’s a heroic act?”