Mal kicked the dope around, thinking that it played true to his take on the brain trusters: they were duplicitous, they talked a lot, they took their own sweet time acting and let outside events call the tune. “Who have you met besides Kostenz and De Haven?”
“Loftis, Minear and Ziffkin, but just briefly.”
“How did they impress you?”
Danny made an open-handed gesture. “They didn’t really impress me at all. I only spoke to them for a minute or so.”
Buzz chuckled and loosened his belt. “You were lucky old Reynolds didn’t jump your bones instead of De Haven. Nice-lookin’ young guy like you would probably get that old prowler stiffin’ up a hard yard.”
Danny flushed again. Mal thought of him working two twenty-four-hour-a-day cases, jamming them into one twenty-four-hour day. He said, “Tell me how your other job’s going.”
Danny’s eyes were darting, flicking over the neighboring booths, lingering on men at the bar before returning to Mal. He said, “Slow but well, I think. I’ve got my own home file, all the evidence and all my impressions, and that’s a help. I’ve got a bunch of records checks going, and so far that’s slow, but steady. Where I think I’m getting close is on the victims, putting them together. He’s not a random psycho, I know that. If I get closer, I might need a decoy to help draw him out. Would it be possible to get another man?”
Mal said, “No”; he watched Danny’s eyes follow two men walking past their booth. “No, not after your stunt with Niles. You’ve got those four officers Dudley Smith swung you–”
“They’re Dudley’s men, not mine! They won’t even report to me, and Mike Breuning’s jerking my chain! For all I know he’s bunked out on the whole job!”
Mal slapped the table, bringing Danny’s eyes back to him. “Look at me and listen. I want you to calm down and take things slow. You’re doing all you can on both your assignments, and aside from Niles you’re doing great. Now you’ve lost one man, but you’ve got your tailing officers, so just figure you’ve cut your goddamn losses, knuckle down and be a professional. Be a policeman.”
Danny’s eyes, blurry, held on Mal. Buzz said, “Deputy, you got any hard leads on your victims, any whatcha call common denominators?”
The operative spoke to his operator. “A man named Felix Gordean. He’s a homosexual procurer connected to one of the victims, and I know the killer’s got some kind of fix on him. I haven’t leaned on him too hard yet, because he’s paying off County Central Vice and he says he’s got influence with LAPD and the Bureau.”
Mal said, “Well, I’ve never heard of him, and I’m top Bureau dog. Buzz, do you know this guy?”
“Sure do, boss. Large City juice, larger County. One lean and mean fruitfly, plays golf with Sheriff Eugene Biscailuz, puts a few shekels in Al Dietrich’s pockets come Christmastime, too.”
As he said the words, Mal knew it was one of the finest moments of his life. “Lean on him, Danny. I’ll stand the heat, and if anyone gives you grief, you’ve got the Chief DA’s Investigator for the City of Los Angeles in your corner.”
Danny stood up, looking heartbreaker grateful. Mal said, “Go home and sleep, Ted. Have a nightcap on me.” The decoy left, saluting his brother officers; Buzz breathed out slowly. “That boy is up on a tall old tree limb lookin’ down at a tall old boy with a saw, and you’ve got more balls than brains.”
It was just about the nicest thing anyone ever told him. Mal said, “Have another piece of pie, lad. I’m picking up the check.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The hall window scraping, three soft footsteps on the bedroom floor.
Buzz stirred, rolled away from Audrey, reached under the pillow and palmed his .38, camouflaging the movement with a sleep sigh. Two more footsteps, Audrey snoring, light through a crack in the curtains eclipsed. A shape coming around his side of the bed; the sound of a hammer being cocked; “Mickey, you’re dead.”
Buzz stiff-armed Audrey to the floor, away from the voice; a silencer snicked and muzzle flash lit up a big man in a dark overcoat. Audrey screamed; Buzz felt the mattress rip an inch from his legs. In one swipe, he grabbed his billy club off the nightstand and swung it at the man’s knees; wood-encased steel cracked bone; the man stumbled toward the bed. Audrey shrieked, “Meeks!”; a shot ripped the far wall; another half second of muzzle light gave Buzz a sighting. He grabbed the man’s coat and pulled him to the bed, smothered his head with a pillow and shot him twice in the face point-blank.