by James Ellroy
Time dragged, traffic flowed: interrogation room grillings. Elmer Lentz dropped a bomb: the radio said the grand jury requested a presentation--all the officers at Central Station 12/25/5 1 were to stand a show-up tomorrow, prisoners would be there to ID the roughnecks. Chief Parker's door opened; Thad Green stepped outside. "Officer White, please."
Bud walked over; Green pointed him in. A small room: Parker's desk, chairs facing it. No wall mementoes, a gray-tinted mirrors--maybe a two-way. The chief behind his desk, in uniform, four gold stars on his shoulders. Dudley Smith in the middle chair; Green back in the chair nearest Parker. Bud took the hot seat--a spot where all three men could see him. Parker said, "Officer, you know Deputy Chief Green, and I'm sure you know of Lieutenant Smith. The lieutenant has been serving me as an advisor during this crisis we've been having."
Green lit a cigarette. "Officer, you're being given a last chance to cooperate. You've been questioned repeatedly by Internal Affairs, and you've repeatedly refused to cooperate. Normally, you would have been suspended from duty. But you're a fine detective, and Chief Parker and I are convinced that your actions at the party were relatively blameless. You were provoked, Officer. You were not wantonly violent like most of the men accused."
Bud started to talk; Smith cut him off. "Lad, I'm sure that I speak for Chief Parker in this, so I will take the liberty of stating it without ellipses. It's a danm pity that the six scum who assaulted our brother officers weren't shot on the spot, and the violence visited upon them I deem mild. But, parenthetically, police officers who cannot control their impulses have no business being police officers, and the shenanigans perpetrated by the men outside have made the Los Angeles Police Department a laughingstock. This cannot be tolerated. Heads must roll. We must have cooperative policemen witnesses to offset the damage done to the Department's image--an image that has vastly improved under the leadership of Chief Parker. We have one major policeman witness already, and Deputy D.A. Ellis Loew stands firm in his desire not to prosecute LAPD officers-- even if the grand jury hands down true bills. Lad, will you testify? For the Department, not the prosecution."
Bud checked the mirror--a two-way for sure--make D.A.'s Bureau goons taking notes. "No, sir. I won't."
Parker scanned a sheet of paper. "Officer, you picked a man up by the neck and tried to bash his brains out. That looks very bad, and even though you were verbally provoked, the action stands out more than most of the abuse heaped on the prisoners. That goes against you. But you were heard muttering 'This is a goddamned disgrace' when you left the cellblock, which is in your favor. Now, do you see how appearing as a voluntary witness could offset the disadvantages caused by your . imaginative show of force?"
A snap: Exley's their boy, _he_ heard me, locked in the storeroom. "Sir, I won't testify."
Parker flushed bright red. Smith said, "Lad, let's talk turkey. I admire your refusal to betray fellow officers, and I sense that loyalty to your partner is what stands behind it. I admire that especially, and Chief Parker has authorized me to offer you a deal. If you testify as to Dick Stensland's actions and the grand jury hands down a bill against him, Stensland will serve no time in jail if convicted. We have Ellis Loew's word on that. Stensland will be dismissed from the Department without pension, but his pension will be paid to him sub rosa, through monies diverted from the Widows and Orphans Fund. Lad, will you testify?"
But stared at the mirror. "Sir, I won't testify."
Thad Green pointed to the door. "Be at Division 43 grand jury chambers tomorrow at 9:00. Be prepared to stand in a show-up and be called to testify. If you refuse to testify, you'll receive a subpoena and be suspended from duty pending a trial board. Get out of here, White."
Dudley Smith smiled--very slightly. Bud shot the mirror a stiff middle finger.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Streaks and smudges on the two-way----expressions came off blurred. Thad Green tough to read; Parker simple--he turned ugly colors. Dudley Smith-- lexophile with a brogue--too calculated to figure. Bud White too _too_ easy: the chief quoted, "This is a goddamned disgrace"; a big thought balloon popped up: "Ed Exley is the stool pigeon." The middle finger salute was just icing.
Ed tapped the speaker; static crackled. The closet was hot-- but not stifling like the Central Jail storeroom. He thought of his last two weeks.
He'd played it brass balls with Parker, presenting all three depositions, agreeing to testify as the Department's key witness. Parker considered his assessment of the situation brilliant, the mark of an exemplary officer. He gave the least damaging of the three statements to Ellis Loew and his favorite D.A.'S investigator, a young law school graduate--Bob Gallaudet. The blame was shifted, more than deservedly, to Sergeant Richard Stensland and Officer Wendell White; less deservedly to three men with their pensions already secured. The chief's reward to his exemplary witness: a transfer to a detective squadroom--a huge promotion. With the lieutenant's exam aced, within a year he would stand as Detective Lieutenant E. J. Exley.
Green left the office; Ellis Loew and Gallaudet walked in. Loew and Parker conferred; Gallaudet opened the door. "Sergeant Vincennes, please"--static out of the speaker.
Trashcan Jack: sleek in a chalk-striped suit. No amenities--he took the middle seat checking his watch. A look passed--Trash, Ellis Loew. Parker eyed the new fish, an easy read--pure contempt. Gallaudet stood by the door, smoking.
Loew said, "Sergeant, we'll get right to it. You've been very cooperative with l.A., which is to your credit. But nine witnesses have identified you as hitting Juan Carbijal, and four drunk tank prisoners saw you carrying in a case of rum. You see, your notoriety preceded you. Even drunks read the scandal sheets."
Dudley Smith took over. "Lad, we need your notoriety. We have a stellar witness who will tell the grand jury that you hit back only after being hit, and since that is probably the truth, further prisoner testimony will vindicate you. But we need you to admit bringing the liquor the men got drunk on. Admit to that interdepartmental infraction and you'll get off with a trial board. Mr. Loew guarantees a quashed criminal indictment should one arise."
Trashcan kept still. Ed read in: Bud White brought most of the booze, he's afraid to inform on him. Parker said, "There will have to be a large shake-up within the Department. Testify, and you'll receive a minor trial board, no suspension, no demotion. I'll guarantee you a light slap on the wrist--a transfer to Administrative Vice for a year or so."
Vincennes to Loew. "Ellis, have I got any more truck with you on this? You know what working Narco means to me."
Loew flinched. Parker said, "None, and there's more. You'll have to stand in the show-up tomorrow, and we want you to testify against Officer Krugman, Sergeant Tucker and Officer Pratt. All three men have already earned their pensions. Our key witness will testify roundly, but you can plead ignorance to questions directed at the other men. Frankly, we must sate the public's clamor for blood by giving up some of our own."
Dudley Smith: "I doubt if you've ever drawn a stupid breath, lad. Don't do it now."
Trashcan Jack: "I'll do it."
Smiles all around. Gallaudet said, "I'll go over your testimony with you, Sergeant. Dining Car lunch on Mr. Loew." Vincennes stood up; Loew walked him to the door.
Whispers out the speaker: ". . . and I told Cooley you wouldn't do it again"--"Okay, boss." Parker nodded at the mirror.
Ed walked in, straight to the hot seat. Smith said, "Lad, you're very much the man of the hour."
Parker smiled. "Ed, I had you watch because your assessment of this situation has been very astute. Any last thoughts before you testify?"
"Sir, am I correct in assuming that whatever criminal bills the grand jury hands down will be stalled or quashed during Mr. Loew's post-indictment process?"
Loew grimaced. He'd hit a nerve--just like his father said he would. "Sir, am I correct in that?"
Loew, patronizing. "Have you attended law school, Sergeant?"
"No, sir. I haven't."
"Then your esteemed fath
er has given you good counsel."
Voice steady. "No, sir. He hasn't."
Smith said, "Let's assume you're correct. Let's assume that we are bending our efforts toward what all loyal policemen want: no brother officers tried publicly. Assuming that, what do you advise?"
The pitch he'd rehearsed--verbatim. "The public will demand more than true bills, stalling tactics and dismissed indictments. Interdepartmental trial boards, suspensions and a big transfer shake-up won't be enough. You told Officer White that heads must roll. I agree, and for the sake of the chief's prestige and the prestige of the Department, I think we need criminal convictions and jail sentences."
"Lad, I am shocked at the relish with which you just said that." Ed to Parker. "Sir, you've brought the Department back from Horrall and Worton. Your reputation is exemplary and the Department's has greatly improved. You can assure that it stays that way."
Loew said, "Spill it, Exley. Exactly what does our junior officer informant think we should do?"
Ed, eyes on Parker. "Dismiss the indictments on the men with their twenty in. Publicize the transfer shake-up and give the bulk of the men trial boards and suspensions. Indict Johnny Brownell, tell him to request a no-jury venue and have the judge let him off with a suspended sentence--his brother was one of the officers initially assaulted. And indict, try and convict Dick Stensland and Bud White. Secure them jail time. Boot them off the Department. Stensland's a drunken thug, White almost killed a man and supplied more liquor than Vincennes. Feed them to the goddamn sharks. Protect yourself, protect the Department."
Silence, stretching. Smith broke it. "Gentlemen, I think our young sergeant's advice is rash and hypocritical. Stensland has his rough edges, but Wendell White is a valuable officer."
"Sir, White is a homicidal thug."
Smith started to speak; Parker raised a hand. "I think Ed's advice is worth considering. Ace them at the grand jury tomorrow, son. Wear a smart-looking suit and ace them."
Ed said, "Yes, sir." He forced himself not to shout his joy to the rafters.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Spotlights, height strips: Jack at 5'11"; Frank Doherty, Dick Stens, John Brownell the short guys, Wilbert Huff, Bud White topping six. Central Jail punks across the glass, couched with D.A.'s cops taking names.
A speaker squawked, "Left profile"; six men turned. "Right profile," "Face the wall," "Face the mirror"; "At ease, gentlemen." Silence; then: "Fourteen IDs apiece on Doherty, Stensland, Vincennes, White and Brownell, four for Huff. Oh shit, the P.A.'s on!"
Stens cracked up. Frank Doherty said, "Eat shit, cocksucker." White stayed expressionless--like he was already at the honor farm protecting Stens from niggers. The speaker: "Sergeant Vincennes to room 114, Officer White report to Chief Green's office. The rest of you men are dismissed."
114--the grand jury witness room.
Jack walked ahead, through curtains down to 114. A crowded room: Bloody Christmas plaintiffs, Ed Exley in a too-new suit, loose threads at the sleeves. The Xmas boys sneered; Jack braced Exley. "You're the key witness?"
"That's right."
"I should've known it was you. What's Parker throwing you?"
"Throwing me?"
"Yeah, Exley. _Throwing you_. The deal, the payoff. You think I'm testifying for free?"
Exley futzed with his glasses. "I'm just doing my duty."
Jack laughed. "You're playing an angle, college boy. You're getting something out of this, so you won't have to hobnob with the fucking rank-and-file cops who are going to hate your fucking guts for snitching. And if Parker promised you the Bureau, watch out, Some Bureau guys are gonna burn in this thing and you're gonna have to work with friends of theirs."
Exley flinched; Jack laughed. "Good payoff, I'll admit that."
"You're the payoff expert. Not me."
"You'll be outranking me pretty soon, so I should be nice. Did you know Ellis Loew's new girlfriend has the hots for you?"
A clerk called, "Edmund J. Exley to chambers."
Jack winked. "Go. And clip those threads on your coat or you'll look like a rube."
Exley walked across the hall--primping, pulling threads.
o o o
Jack killed time--thinking about Karen. Ten days since the party; life was mostly aces. He had to apologize to Spade Cooley; Welton Morrow was pissed over him and Karen--but the lukewarm Joanie/Ellis Loew deal almost made it up for him. Hotel shacks were a strain--Karen lived at home, his place was a dive, he'd been neglecting his payments to the Scoggins kids to make the freight at the Ambassador. Karen loved the illicit romance; he loved her loving it. Aces. But Sid Hudgens hadn't called arid L.A. was heroin dry--no Narco jollies. A year at Ad Vice loomed like the gas chamber.
He felt like a fighter ready to dive. The Christmas geeks kept staring; the punk he'd thumped had on a nose splint--probably a phony some Jew lawyer told him to wear. The grand jury room door stood ajar; Jack walked over, looked in.
Six jurors at a table facing the witness stand; Ellis Loew hurling questions--Ed Exley in the box.
He didn't play with his glasses; he didn't hem and haw. His voice went an octave lower than normal--and stayed even. Skinny, not a cop type, he still had authority--and his timing was perfect. Loew pitched perfect outside sliders; Exley knew they were coming, but acted surprised. Whoever coached him did a fucking-A bang-up job.
Jack picked out details, sensed Exley reaching, a war hero-not a weak sister in a cellblock full of rowdies. Loew glossed over that; Exley's answers hit smart: he was outnumbered, his keys were snatched, he was locked in a storeroom--and that was that. He was a man who knew who he was, knew the futility of cheap heroics.
Exley spieled: rat-offs on Brownell, Hufl Doherty. He called Dick Stensland the worst of the worst, didn't blink snitching Bud White. Jack smiled when it hit him: everything is skewed toward our side. Krugman, Pratt, Tucker, pension safe--were set up-- for his testimony. Stensland and White--heading for indictment city. What a fucking performance.
Loew called for a summation. Exley obliged: pap about justice. Loew excused him; the jurors almost swooned. Exley left the box limping--he'd probably jammed his legs asleep.
Jack met him outside. "You were good. Parker would've loved it." Exley stretched his legs. "You think he'll read the transcript?" "He'll have it inside ten minutes, and Bud White'll fuck you for this if it takes the rest of his life. He was called in to Thad Green after the show-up, and you can bet Green suspended him. You had better pray he cops a deal and stays on the Department, because that is one civilian you do not want on your case."
"Is that why you didn't tell Loew he brought most of the liquor?"
A clerk called, "John Vincennes, five minutes."
Jack got up some nerve. "I'm snitching three old-timers who'll be fishing in Oregon next week. Next to you, I'm clean. And smart."
"We're both doing the right thing. Only you hate yourself for it, and that's not smart."
Jack saw Ellis Loew and Karen down the hall. Loew walked up. "I told Joan you were testifying today, and she told Karen. I'm sorry, and I told Joan in confidence. _Jack, I'm sorry_. I told Karen she couldn't watch in chambers, that she'll have to listen over the speaker in my office. _Jack, I'm sorry_."
"Jewboy, you sure know how to guarantee a witness."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bud nursed a highball.
Jukebox noise pounded him; he had the worst seat in the bar--a sofa back by the pay phones. His old football wounds throbbed--like his hard-on for Exley. No badge, no gun, indictments shooting his way--the fortyish redhead looked like the best thing he'd ever seen. He carried his drink over.
She smiled at him. The red looked fake--but she had a kind face. Bud smiled. "That an old-fashioned you're drinking?"
"Yes, and my name's Angela."
"My name's Bud."
"Nobody was born with the name 'Bud."'
"They stick you with a name like 'Wendell,' you look for an alias."
Angela laughed. "What do
you do, _Bud?_"
"I'm sorta between jobs right now."
"Oh? Well, what _did_ you do?"
SUSPENDED! YOU DUMB FUCK LOOKING. A GIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH! "I wouldn't play ball with my boss. Angela, what do you say--"
"You mean like a union dispute or something? I'm in the United Federation of Teachers, and my ex-husband was a shop steward with the Teamsters. Is that what you--"
Bud felt a hand on his shoulder. "Lad, might I have a word with you?"
Dudley Smith. CALL IT I.A. RUNNING TAILS.
"This business, Lieutenant?"
"It is indeed. Say good night to your new friend and join me by those back tables. I've told the bartender to turn the music down so we can talk."
A jump tune went soft; Smith walked off. A sailor had his hooks into Angela. Bud eased over to the lounges.
Cozy: Smith, two chairs, a table--a newspaper covering the top, a little mound underneath. Bud sat down. "Is I.A. tailing me?"
"Yes, and other likely indictees. It was your chum Exley's idea. The lad has a piece of Chief Parker's ear, and he told him that you and Stensland might be driven to commit rash acts. Exley vilified you and many other fine men on the witness stand, lad. I've read the transcript. His testimony was high treason and a despicable affront to all honorable policemen."
Stens--holed up on a bender. "Don't that paper say we been indicted?"
"Don't be precipitous, lad. I've used my piece of the chief's ear to have your tail called off, so you're with a friend."
"Lieutenant, what do you want?"
Smith said, "Call me Dudley."
"_Dudley_, what do you want?"
Ho, ho, ho--a beautiful tenor. "Lad, you impress me. I admire your refusal to testify and your loyalty to your partner, however unfounded. I admire you as a policeman, particularly your adherence to violence where needed as a necessary adjunct to the job, and I am most impressed by your punishment of woman beaters. Do you hate them, lad?"
Big words--his head spun. "Yeah, I hate them."