Stens grabbed the girl. Bud said, “Go somewhere, sweetheart. Before my friend checks your green card.”
“Green card” spooked her–_madre mia! Madre mia!_ Stens shoved her to the door; Sanchez moaned. Bud saw blues swarm the driveway. “We’ll let them take Pancho in.”
Stens caught some breath. “We’ll give him to Brownell’s pals.” Two rookie types walked in–Bud saw his out. “Cuff him and book him. APO and resisting arrest.”
The rookies dragged Sanchez out. Stens said, “You and women. What’s next? Kids and dogs?”
Mrs. Ralphie–all bruised up for Christmas. “I’m working on it. Come on, let’s move that booze. Be nice and I’ll let you have your own bottle.”
CHAPTER TWO
Preston Exley yanked the drop-cloth. His guests oohed and ahhed; a city councilman clapped, spilled eggnog on a society matron. Ed Exley thought: this is not a typical policeman’s Christmas Eve.
He checked his watch–8:46–he had to be at the station by midnight. Preston Exley pointed to the model.
It took up half his den: an amusement park filled with papier-mâché mountains, rocket ships, Wild West towns. Cartoon creatures at the gate: Moochie Mouse, Scooter Squirrel, Danny Duck–Raymond Dieterling’s brood–featured in the _Dream-a-Dream Hour_ and scores of cartoons.
“Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Dream-a-Dreamland. Exley Construction will build it, in Pomona, California, and the opening date will be April 1953. It will be the most sophisticated amusement park in history, a self-contained universe where children of all ages can enjoy the message of fun and goodwill that is the hallmark of Raymond Dieterling, the father of modern animation. Dream-a-Dreamland will feature all your favorite Dieterling characters, and it will be a haven for the young and young at heart.”
Ed stared at his father: fifty-seven coming off forty-five, a cop from a long line of cops holding forth in a Hancock Park mansion, politicos giving up their Christmas Eve at a snap of his fingers. The guests applauded; Preston pointed to a snowcapped mountain. “Paul’s World, ladies and gentlemen. An exact-scale replica of a mountain in the Sierra Nevada. Paul’s World will feature a thrilling toboggan ride and a ski lodge where Moochie, Scooter and Danny will perform skits for the whole family. And who is the Paul of Paul’s World? Paul was Raymond Dieterling’s son, lost tragically as a teenager in 1936, lost in an avalanche on a camping trip–lost on a mountain just like this one here. So, out of tragedy, an affirmation of innocence. And, ladies and gentlemen, every nickel out of every dollar spent at Paul’s World will go to the Children’s Polio Foundation.”
Wild applause. Preston nodded at Timmy Valburn–the actor who played Moochie Mouse on the _Dream-a-Dream Hour_–always nibbling cheese with his big buck teeth. Valburn nudged the man beside him; the man nudged back.
Art De Spain caught Ed’s eye; Valburn kicked off a Moochie routine. Ed steered De Spain to the hallway. “This is a hell of a surprise, Art.”
“Dieterling’s announcing it on the _Dream Hour_. Didn’t your dad tell you?”
“No, and I didn’t know he knew Dieterling. Did he meet him back during the Atherton case? Wasn’t Wee Willie Wennerhoim one of Dieterling’s kid stars?”
De Spain smiled. “I was your dad’s lowly adjutant then, and I don’t think the two great men ever crossed paths. Preston just knows people. And by the way, did you spot the mouse man and his pal?”
Ed nodded. “Who is he?”
Laughter from the den; De Spain steered Ed to the study. “He’s Billy Dieterling, Ray’s son. He’s a cameraman on _Badge of Honor_, which lauds our beloved LAPD to millions of television viewers each week. Maybe Timmy spreads some cheese on his whatsis before he blows him.”
Ed laughed. “Art, you’re a pisser.”
De Spain sprawled in a chair. “Eddie, ex-cop to cop, you say words like ‘pisser’ and you sound like a college professor. And you’re not really an ‘Eddie,’ you’re an ‘Edmund.”‘
Ed squared his glasses. “I see avuncular advice coming. Stick in Patrol, because Parker made chief that way. Adniinistrate my way up because I have no command presence.”
“You’ve got no sense of humor. And can’t you get rid of those specs? Squint or something. Outside of Thad Green, I can’t think of one Bureau guy who wears glasses.”