Ed looked out the window; a pretty girl waved at him. Dark-haired, Latin–she looked like Inez Soto. “Right.”
“And?”
“And I spent a full day in San Bernardino and got nowhere. The woman used to live with her mother, who was half-sedated and wouldn’t talk to me. I talked to acquaintances, and they told me Sue Lefferts was a chronic insomniac who listened to the radio all night. She had no boyfriends in recent memory, no enemies ever. I checked her apartment in L.A., which was just about what you’d expect for a thirty-one-year-old salesgirl. One of the San Berdoo people said she was a bit of a roundheels, one said she belly-danced at a Greek restaurant a few times for laughs. Nothing suspicious.”
“It keeps coming back to the Negroes.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Any luck on the car or the weapons?”
“No, and 77th Street’s checking trashcans and sewer grates for the purses and wallets. And I know an approach we can make and save the investigation a lot of time.”
Pinker smiled. “Check Griffith Park for the nicked shells?”
Ed turned to the window–the Inez type was gone. “If we place those shells, then it’s either the Negroes in custody or another three.”
“Sergeant, that is one large long shot.”
“I know, and I’ll help.”
Pinker checked his watch. “It’s 10:30 now. I’ll find the occurrence reports on those shootings, try to pinpoint the locations and meet you with a sapper squad tomorrow at dawn. Say the Observatory parking lot?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Should I get clearance from Lieutenant Smith?”
“Do it on my say-so, okay? I’m reporting directly to Parker on this.”
“The park at dawn then. Wear some old clothes, it’ll be filthy work.”
o o o
Ed ate Chinese on Alvarado. He knew why he was heading that way: Queen of Angels was close, Inez Soto might be awake. He’d called the hospital: Inez was healing up quickly, her family hadn’t visited, her sister called, said Mama and Papa blamed her for the nightmare–provocative clothing, worldly ways. She’d been crying for her stuffed animals; he had the gift shop send up an assortment–gifts to ease his conscience–he wanted her as a major witness in his first big homicide case. And he just wanted her to like him, wanted her to disown four words: “Officer White’s the hero.”
He stalled with a last cup of tea. Stitches, dental work–his wounds were healing, made small: his mother and Inez blurred together. He’d gotten a report: Dick Stens hung out with known armed robbers, bet with bookies, took his salary in cash and frequented whorehouses. When his men had him pinned cold they’d call County Probation and fix an arrest.
Which paled beside “Officer White’s the hero” and Inez Soto with the fire to hate him.
Ed paid the check, drove to Queen of Angels.
o o o
Bud White was walking out.
They crossed by the elevator. White got the first word in. “Give your career a rest and let her sleep.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Not looking to pump a witness. Leave her alone, you’ll get your chance.”
“‘This is just a visit.”
“She sees through you, Exley. You can’t buy her off with teddy bears.”
“Don’t you want the case cleared? Or are you just frustrated that there’s nobody else for you to kill?”
“Big talk from a brownnosing snitch.”
“Did you come here to get laid?”
“Different circumstances, I’d eat you for that.”
“Sooner or later, I’ll take you and Stensland down.”
“That goes two ways. War hero, huh? Those Japs must’ve rolled over for you.”
Ed flinched.
White winked.
Tremors–all the way up to her room. Ed looked before he knocked.
Inez was awake–reading a magazine. Stuffed animals strewn on the floor, one creature on the bed: Scooter Squirrel as a footrest. Inez saw him, said, “No.”
Faded bruises, her features coming back hard. “No what, Miss Soto?”
“No, I won’t go through it with you.”
“Not even a few questions?”
“No.”
Ed pulled a chair up. “You don’t seem surprised to see me here so late.”
“I’m not, you’re the subtle type.” She pointed to the animals. “Did the district attorney reimburse you for those?”