The brothers clapped. Kellerman said, “My clients welcome questions.”
Loew pointed to the bedroom. “After I talk to my colleagues.”
They walked in; Loew closed the door. “Conclusions. Bob, you first.”
Gallaudet lit a cigarette. “Mickey Cohen, despite his many faults, does not murder people out of pique, and Jack Whalen’s only interested in gambling rackets. I believe their story, but everything we’ve dug up on Cathcart makes him look like a pathetic chump who couldn’t get something this big going. I say it’s tangent stuff at best. I still make the boogies for the job.”
“I agree. Captain, your opinion.”
Millard said, “I like one possible scenario–with major reservations. _Maybe_ Cohen talked up the job on the yard at McNeil, word got to the outside and somebody took it from there. _But_–if this deal is smut-connected, then the Englekling boys would either have been killed or approached by now. I’ve been running a stag book investigation out of Ad Vice for two weeks and my squad has heard nothing on this and hit one brick wall after another. I think Ed and Bob should talk to Whalen, then fly up to McNeil and talk to Mickey. I’ll question those lowlifes in the next room, and I’ll talk to my Ad Vice men. I’ve read every field report filed by every man on the Nite Owl, and there is not one mention of pornography. I think Bob’s right. It’s a tangent we’re dealing with.”
“Agreed. Bob, you and Exley talk to Cohen and Whalen. Captain, did you have capable men on your job?”
Millard smiled. “Three capable men and Trashcan Jack Vincennes. No offense, Ellis. I know he’s involved with your wife’s sister.”
Loew flushed. “Exley, do you have anything to add?”
“Bob and the captain covered my points, but there’s two things I want to mention. One, Susan Lefferts was from San Berdoo. Two, if it’s not the Negroes in custody or another colored gang, then the car by the Nite Owl was a plant and we are dealing with one huge conspiracy.”
“I think we have our killers. And on that note, are you making progress with Miss Soto?”
“I’m working at it.”
“Work harder. Good efforts are for schoolboys, results are what counts. Go to it, gentlemen.”
o o o
Ed drove to his apartment–a change of clothes for the run to McNeil. He found a note on the door.
Exley–
I still think you’re everything I said you were, but I called the house and talked to my sister and she said you came by and were obviously concerned about my welfare, so I’m thawing a little bit. You’ve been nice to me (when you weren’t covering angles or beating up people) and maybe I’m an opportunist myself and I’m just using you for shelter until I get better and can accept Mr. Dieterling’s offer, so since I live in a glass house I shouldn’t throw stones at you. That’s as close to an apology as I’m going to give you and I will continue to refuse to cooperate. Get the picture? Is Mr. Dieterling for real about a job at Dream-a-Dreamland? I’m going shopping today with the rest of the money you gave me. Keeping busy makes me think about it less. I’ll come by tonight. Leave a light burning.
Inez
Ed changed and taped his spare key to the door. He left a light burning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Jack in his car, waiting to tail Bud White. Mangled hands, fruit-caked clothes–a shift breaking down garage doors, high-spirited darkies japping the search teams–rooftop hit-and-runs. No luck on Coates’ Merc; Millard’s bomb still exploding, lucky he heard by phone–he would have shit his pants otherwise.
“Vincennes, two witnesses have contacted Ellis Loew. They said Duke Cathcart was involved in some kind of unrealized scheme to push that smut we’ve been chasing. My guess is that it doesn’t connect to the Nite Owl, but have you come up with anything?”
He said, “No.” He asked if the other guys on the squad hit pay dirt. Millard said, “No.”
He didn’t tell him his reports were all bullshit. He didn’t tell him he didn’t care if the smut gig and the Nite Owl were doubled up from here to Mars. He didn’t tell him he wouldn’t rest easy until he had Sid Hudgens’ file in his hand and the niggers sucked gas–guilty or not.