“Would you care to elaborate on that, lad?”
“No.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Memo:
“From: Chief Parker. To: Dep. Chief Green, Capt. R. Millard, Lt. D. Smith, Sgt. E. Exley. Conference: Chief’s Office, 4:00 P.M., 4/23/53. Topic: Questioning of witness Inez Soto.” His father’s note: “She’s wonderful and Ray Dieterling’s much taken with her. But she’s a material witness and a Mexican, and I advise you not to get too attached to her. And under no circumstances should you shack up with her. Cohabitation is against departmental regs and being with a Mexican woman could seriously stall your career.”
Parker kicked things off. “Ed, the Nite Owl case is narrowing down to the Negroes in custody or some other colored gang. Now, word has it that you’ve gotten close to the Soto girl. Lieutenant Smith and I deem it imperative that she undergo questioning in order to clear up the time element, alibi or not alibi the three in custody, and identify the other men who assaulted her. We think pentothal is the best way to get results, and pentothal works best when a subject is at ease. We want you to convince Miss Soto to cooperate. She probably trusts you, so you’ll have credibility.”
Inez post-Stensland: shell-shocked, hard-pressed to move to Arrowhead. “Sir, I think all our evidence so far is circumstantial. I think we should get other corroboration before I approach Miss Soto, and I want to try questioning Coates, Jones and Fontaine again.”
Smith laughed. “Lad, they refused to talk to you the other day, and now they have a pinko public defender who’s advising them to stay mute. Ellis Loew wants a grand jury presentation–Nite Owl and Little Lindbergh–and you can facilitate it. Kid gloves has gotten us nowhere with our fair Miss Soto, and it’s time we quit coddling her.”
Russ Millard: “Lieutenant, I agree with Sergeant Exley. If we keep pressing on the southside, we’ll turn rape witnesses and maybe find Coates’ car and the murder weapons. My instincts tell me the girl’s recollections of that night might be too muddled to do us any good, and if we make her remember, it might wreck her life more than it’s been wrecked already. Can you picture Ellis Loew badgering her in front of the grand jury? Not very pretty, is it?”
Smith laughed–straight at Millard. “Captain, you politicked very hard to share this command with me, and now you advance a sob sister sensibility. This is a brutal mass murder that requires a swift and hard resolution, not a sorority party. And Ellis Loew is a brilliant attorney and a compassionate man. I’m sure he would handle Miss Soto with care.”
Millard swallowed a pill, chased it with water. “Ellis Loew is a headline-grubbing buffoon, not a policeman, and he should not be directing the thrust of this investigation.”
“Fair Captain, I deem that comment near seditious in its–”
Parker raised a hand. “Gentlemen, enough. Thad, will you take Captain Millard and Lieutenant Smith down the hall and buy them coffee while I talk to the sergeant here?”
Green ushered the two outside. Parker said, “Ed, Dudley’s right.”
Ed kept quiet. Parker pointed to a stack of newspapers. “The press and the public demand justice. We’ll look very bad if we don’t clear this up soon.”
“Sir, I know.”
“Do you care about the girl?”
“Yes.”
“You know that sooner or later she’ll have to cooperatc?”
“Sir, don’t underestimate her. She’s steel inside.”
Parker smiled. “Then let’s see how much steel you possess. Convince her to cooperate, and if we get enough corroboration to convince Ellis Loew he’s got a showstopper grand jury case, I’ll jump you on the promotion list. You’ll be a detective lieutenant immediately.”
“And a command?”
“Arnie Reddin retires next month. I’ll give you the Hollywood detective squad.”
Ed tingled.
“Ed, you’re thirty-one. Your father didn’t make lieutenant until he was thirty-three.”
“I’ll do it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Pervert patrol:
Cleotis Johnson, registered sex offender, pastor of the New Bethel Methodist Episcopal Church of Zion, had an alibi for the night Inez Soto was kidnapped: he was in the 77th Street drunk tank. Davis Walter Bush, registered sex offender, alibied up by a half dozen wimesses: they were engaged in an all-night crap game in the rec room of the New Bethel Methodist Episcopal Church of Zion. Fleming Peter Hanley, registered sex offender, spent that night at Central Receiving: a drag queen bit his dick; a team of emergency room docs labored to save the organ so he could notch up a few more convictions for sodomy with mayhem.