o o o
The car heater warmed him up. He drove to the Dieterling school, bolted the fence.
Quiet–Saturday–no classes. A typical playground–basketball hoops, softball diamonds. Moochie Mouse on everything– backboards to base markers.
Ed walked to the south fence perimeter–the closest route from Billy Dieterling’s house. Gristled skin on chain links– handholds up and over. Dark dots on faded asphalt–blood, an easy trail.
Across the playground, down steps to a boiler room door. Blood on the knob, a light on inside. He took out Bud White’s spare, walked in.
David Mertens shivering in a corner. A hot room–the man sweating up bloody clothes. He showed his teeth, twisted his mouth into a screech. Ed threw the pills at him.
He grabbed them, gagged them down. Ed aimed at his mouth, couldn’t pull the trigger. Mertens stared at him. Something strange happened with time–it left them alone. Mertens fell asleep, his lips curled over his gums. Ed looked at his face, tried for some outrage. He still couldn’t kill him.
Time came back: the wrong way. Trials, sanity hearings, Preston Exley reviled for letting this monster go free. Time hard on the trigger–he still couldn’t do it.
Ed picked the man up, carried him out to his car.
o o o
Pacific Sanitarium–Malibu Canyon. Ed told the gate guard to send down Dr. Lux–Captain Exley wanted to pay back his favor.
The guard pointed him to a space. Ed parked, ripped off Mertens’ shirt. Brutal–the man was one huge scar.
Lux headed over. Ed pulled out two bags of powder, two stacks of thousand-dollar bills. He placed them on the hood, rolled down the rear windows.
Lux walked up, checked the back seat. “I know that work. That’s Douglas Dieterling.”
“Just like that?”
Lux tapped the powder. “The late Pierce Patchett’s? Let’s not be outraged, Captain. The last I heard you were no Cub Scout. And what is it that you wish?”
“That man taken care of on a locked ward for the rest of his life.”
“I find that acceptable. Is this compassion or the desire to spare our future governor’s reputation?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not a typical Exley answer. Enjoy the grounds, Captain. I’ll have my orderlies clean up here.”
Ed walked to a terrace, looked at the ocean. Sun, waves– maybe some sharks out feeding. A radio snapped on behind him. “. . . so for more on that thwarted prison train break. A Highway Patrol spokesman told reporters that the death toll now stands at twenty-eight inmates, seven guards and crew members. Four deputy sheriffs were injured and Sergeant John Vincennes, celebrated Los Angeles policeman and the former technical advisor to the _Badge of Honor_ TV show, was shot and killed. Sergeant Vincennes’ partner, LAPD Sergeant Wendell White, is in critical condition at Fontana General Hospital. White pursued and killed the crash-out’s pickup man, identified as Burt Arthur ‘Deuce’ Perkins, a nightclub entertainer with underworld connections. A team of doctors are now striving to save the valiant officer’s life, although he is not expected to live. Captain George Rachlis of the California Highway Patrol calls this tragedy–”
The ocean blurred through his tears. White winked and said, “Thanks for the push.” Ed turned around. The monster, the dope, the money-gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
The pool stash: twenty-one pounds of heroin, $871,400, carbons of Sid Hudgens’ dirt files. Included: blackmail photos, records of Pierce Patchett’s criminal enterprises. The name “Dudley Smith” did not appear–nor did the names of John Stompanato, Burt Arthur Perkins, Abe Teitlebaum, Lee Vachss, Dot Rothstein, Sergeant Mike Breuning, Officer Dick Carlisle. Coleman Stein, Sal Bonventre, George Magdaleno–killed in the crash-out. Davey Goldman reinterviewed at Camarillo State Hospital–he could not give a coherent statement. The Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office ruled Dot Rothstein’s death a suicide. David Mertens stayed in locked-ward custody at Pacific Sanitarium. Relatives of the three innocent citizens killed at Abe’s Noshery brought suit against the LAPD for reckless endangerment. The crash-out received national news coverage, was labeled the “Blue Denim Massacre.” Surviving inmates told Sheriff’s detectives that squabbling among the armed prisoners resulted in guns changing hands– soon every inmate on the train was free. Racial tensions flared up, aborting the crash-out before the authorities arrived.