Strange.
More strange: _Hush-Hush_ ran a smear on Max Peltz–there was nothing on him.
Nothing on Pierce Patchett, Lynn Bracken, Lamar Hinton, Fleur-de-Lis.
Jack measured his filth pile. Big–make the killer a file thief, if he got any files it wasn’t many–his pile looked like it would jam the cabinets to bursting.
ALIBI.
Jack stuffed his files in the closet. “Do Not Disturb” on the door, back to his apartment.
5:10 A.M.
Under the knocker: “Jack–remember our date Thurs.” “Jack sweetie–are you hibernating? XXXX–K.” He walked in, grabbed the phone, dialed 888.
“Police Emergency.”
A hepcat drawl. “Man, I want to report a murder. If I’m lyin’, I’m flyin’.”
“Sir, is this legitimate?”
“Yeah, if I’m–”
“‘What is your address, sir?”
“My address is nowhere, but I was gonna burglarize this house, then I saw this body.”
“Sir–”
“421 South Alexandria, got that?”
“Sir, where are–”
Jack hung up, stripped, lay down on the bed. Figure twenty minutes for the bluesmts, ten to ID Hudgens. They putz around, make it as a big case, call Homicide. The desk man thinks brass, shakes a boss case man out of bed. Thad Green, Russ Millard, Dudley S.–they’d all think Big V pronto–his phone would ring in a hot hour.
Jack lay there–sweating up a clean set of sheets. Ring ring–at 6:58.
Jack, yawning. “Yeah?”
“Vincennes, it’s Russ Millard.”
“Yeah, Cap. What time is it? What’s–”
“Never mind. Do you know where Sid Hudgens lives?”
“Yeah, Chapman Park somewhere. Cap, what’s–”
“421 South Alexandria. _Now_, Vincennes.”
o o o
Shave, shower, clothes that stayed dry. Forty minutes to the scene–a fuckload of cop cars on Sid Hudgens’ lawn. Morgue men hefting plastic bags: blood, body parts.
Jack parked on the lawn. An attendant wheeled out a gurney: gore wrapped in sheets. Russ Millard by the door; two comers– Don Kleckner, Duane Fisk–down the driveway. Patrolmen shooed away spectators; reporters crowded the sidewalk. Jack walked up to Millard. “Hudgens ?”–not too much shock, a pro.
“Yes, your buddy. A bit chewed up, I’m afraid. A burglar called it in. He was about to tap the house, then he saw the body. Pry marks on the doorjamb, so I buy it. Don’t look inside if you’ve eaten.”
Jack looked. Dried blood, white tape outlines: arms, legs, torso-the severing points marked. Millard said, “Somebody _hated_ him. You see those drawers over there? I think the killer snuffed him for his files. I had Kieckner call the _Hush-Hush_ publisher. He’s going to open up the office and give us copies of the recent stuff Hudgens was working on.”
Old Russ wanted a comment. Jack crossed himself: his first time since the orphanage, where the fuck did it come from.
“Vincennes, you were his friend. What do you think?”
“I think he was scum! Everybody hated him! You’ve got all L.A. for suspects!”
“Easy, now, _easy_. I know you’ve leaked information to Hudgens, I know you two did business. If we don’t wrap this in a few days, I’m going to want a statement.”
Duane Fisk spieling Morty Bendish–make book on a _Mirror_ scoop. Jack said, “I’ll kick loose. What am I going to do, impede the progress of an official investigation?”
“Your sense of duty is admirable. Now, let’s talk about Hudgens. Girls, boys, what did he like?”
Jack lit a cigarette. “He liked dirt. He was a goddamned degenerate. Maybe he pulled his pud while he looked at his own goddamn shitrag, I don’t know.”
Don Kleckner walked up, a copy of _Hush-Hush_ spread open: “TV Mogul Loves to Ogle–And Then Some!!! And Teen Queens Are His Scene!!!” “Captain, I bought this at that newsstand on the corner. And the publisher told me _Badge of Honor_ was a bee in Hudgens’ bonnet.”
“This is good. Don, you start canvassing. Vincennes, come here.”
Over to the lawn. Millard said, “This keeps coming back to people you know.”
“I’m a cop and I’m Hollywood. I know lots of people, and I know Max Peltz likes young trim. So what? He’s sixty years old and he’s no killer.”
“We’ll decide that this afternoon. You’re block searching on the Nite Owl, right? Looking for Coates’ car?”
“Yeah.”
“Then go back to that now and report to the Bureau at 2:00. I’m going to ask some key people from _Badge of Honor_ to come in for some friendly questioning. You can help grease things.”