“You’re on track. Continue.”

“Continue shit—what ‘very bad things’?”

“Dudley had Johnny terrorizing out-of-town hoodlums he had plans for. Johnny told me he was having difficulty doing it.”

“You should have pulled him then.”

“No. I needed more.”

“Do you think those out-of-town guys were the guys working Mickey’s slots? Do you think it ties into Dud running Mickey?”

“Yes. I’m not entirely sure, but I think it’s possible.”

His chair—Scotch tape dangling off a slat.

“Wrap it up.”

Exley buffed his glasses—his eyes looked soft without them. “Johnny began to lose Dudley’s respect. He was too lax with the out-of-town men, and he told me that Carlisle and Breuning were surveilling him sporadically, apparently because Dudley became instinctively suspicious of him. Junior Stemmons came back into Johnny’s life then, quite accidentally. Both he and Johnny were working South-Central, and somehow Stemmons got Johnny to admit his participation in the fur robbery. Johnny didn’t, apparently, implicate me, but Stemmons sensed that he was being operated. Dudley became aware of how dangerously unstable Stemmons was, and I think he suspected him of trying to extort Johnny. I know for a fact that Dudley tried to get a bank writ to seize potential Stemmons evidence, and I’m assuming that he tortured Johnny for information on the extent of Junior’s knowledge before he had you kill him. I had already gone to a Federal law clerk that I know, and he stalled Dudley’s writ while I tried to get one. You got to the vault boxes first, and I’m thinking that Welles Noonan must have assisted you.”

That dangling tape—just maybe.

“He did.”

“Are you going to be a Federal witness?”

“I’m supposed to be.”

“But you’re considering not testifying?”

Glenda—potential FED indictments pending.

“Mostly I’m thinking of running.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“The Kafesjian-Herrick job.”

“You’re expecting some kind of payoff?”

“No, I just want to know why.”

“Is that all you want?”

“No. I want you to get me a cup of coffee, and I want to know why you assigned me to the Kafesjian burglary.”

Exley stood up. “Do you think Dudley killed Junior Stemmons?”

“No, he would have ditched the body to buy more time to get at the vault boxes.”

“Are you thinking it was a legitimate overdose?”

“No, I’d bet on Tommy K. My guess is that Junior came on strong and Tommy got pissed. It happened at Bido Lito’s, so Tommy left the body there. The Kafesjians torched the place to destroy evidence.”

“You could be right. Wait, I’ll get you your coffee.”

He walked out. Kitchen sounds—I grabbed the tape.

Safe-combination bingo: 34L—1 6R—3 1 L. Squarejohn thinking: every rich stupe pulled that chair-reminder bit. I pressed the tape back and scoped the room: cold, expensive.

Exley brought coffee in on a tray. I poured a cup for show.

“You put me on the Kafesjian burglary to bait Dudley.”

“Yes. Has he approached you?”

“Indirectly, and I told him flat out that you were using me as some sort of agent provocateur. He let it go at that.”

“And he has you compromised with that movie you told me about.”

“PLEASE DON’T KlLL ME.”

“Get to it. Dudley and the Kafesjians.”

He sat down. “The burglary itself was just a coincidence, and I simply capitalized on the fact that Dan Wilhite sent you over to smooth things out with J.C. I suspect that the burglary and the Herrick killings, which are connected, are connected to Dudley at best tangentially. Essentially, after the Nite Owl reopening, I began querying retired officers about Dudley. I learned that he, not Chief Horrall, suborned the Kafesjians into the LAPD fold twenty-odd years ago. He was the one who initiated the notion of contained narcotics peddling in exchange for a certain amount of Southside order and snitch information, and of course niany years later he went crazy with the notion of containment in general.”

“What about Phillip Herrick?”

“Your property-ownership lead is my first indication of a SmithHerrick connection. You see, I just wanted Dudley diverted. I knew he had things brewing in South-Central, and I knew he was taking a discreet percentage from J.C. Kafesjian. I wanted the Kafesjians rattled, and I had hoped that your reputation would move Dudley to approach you.”

“Then you’d operate me.”

“Yes.”

Dawn breaking—my last free day. “I burned up Junior’s evidence. He had notes, your cancelled checks to those reporters, everything.”

“All my dealings with Duhamel were verbal. You’ve just assured me that there is no evidence on my operation extant.”

“It’s comforting to know that you’ll skate.”

“You can, too.”

“Don’t jerk my chain. Don’t offer me protection, and don’t mention sparing the Department.”

“You consider your situation beyond those things?”

Dawn light—my eyes stung. “I’m fucked, plain and simple.”

“Ask a favor then. I’ll grant it.”

“I got Noonan to lift his surveillance on the Kafesjians. They’ll be tailfree today only, and I think they’ll go after Richie Herrick. I want a dozen mobile tail men with civilian radio cars, and a special frequency set up to monitor their calls. It’s a shot at Dudley, which should please you no fucking end.”

“You’re assuming Richie can fill in some blanks on Dudley and the Kafesjians?”

“I’m assuming he knows all of it.”

Exley stuck a hand out—Dave, my buddy. “I’ll set up a radio spot at Newton Station. Be there at ten-thirty, I’ll have your men briefed and ready.”

That hand, persistent—I ignored it.

“You’re letting Narco go. The Department needs a scapegoat, and they’re it.”

That hand disappeared. “I have extensive dossiers on every Narco officer. At the proper time, I’m going to present them to Welles Noonan, as a way of affecting a rapprochement. And, parenthetically, Dan Wilhite committed suicide last night. He left a note that included a brief mention of the bribes he’s taken, and I’m going to send Noonan a memorandum on it before too long. He was obviously afraid of having his more outré secrets exposed, which is something you should consider should you decide to testify against the Department.”

Bad morning light—glaring.

“I’m past all that.”

“You’re not past needing me. I can help satisfy your curiosity regarding those families, so don’t forget that your interests are identical to mine.”

Bad morning light—one day left.

Chapter Forty-One

10:30—Newton Street Station. A briefing room—chairs facing me.

No sleep—phone work kept me up. Recap: early-A.M. check-in—the Wagon Wheel Motel.

Those fur-storage notes: Dudley knew I knew/Dudley knew where I lived.

Calls:

Glenda said she was safe in Fresno.

Pete said he had Chick V. stashed, with Fred Turentine guarding him. Safe: my slum building, dummy signers, untraceable. “When he heals up a little, I’m gonna lean on him. He’s got money tucked away someplace, I can tell.”

Implied: rob him, kill him.

Welles Noonan had Kafesjian news:

Per our bargain: all Fed tails were lifted today only. TV misinformation was planted: “Probe surveillance quashed by court injunction.”

“I’m hoping our friends will think that an LAPD fix is in, and resume their outside life. Godspeed in this mission of yours, Brother Klein—and tune in Channel 4 or KMPC at two-forty-five this afternoon. Really, you’ll be in for quite a treat.”

Lying treacherous hump.

Tail men walked in and sat down. Mixed bag: suits and ties, loafer types. Twelve men—eyes on me.

“Gentlemen, I’m Dave Klein. I’m commanding the Herrick homicide job, and per Chief Exley’s order, you are to keep a twenty-four rolling surveillance on J.C., Tommy, Lucille and Madge Kafesjian. We are hoping that one of them will lead us to Richard Herrick, who Chief Exley and I want to question as a material witness in the Herrick 187s.”