Dark men. Two, maybe three.

He stopped.

"That's not the end of the story, Tim."

"That's it. They undressed in the car, stuffed the knife in a duffel bag. We burned it in one of the canyons - the clothes, bag, everything. Dumped whatever was left off the Malibu pier." He paused again, out of breath. "I didn't kill anybody."

"Did they say anything in the car?"

"Halstead was stone silent. It bothered me, how freaked - out he looked, because he's a mean one - that story about getting a knife pulled on him by a kid is bullshit. He was kicked out of Manual Arts for beating up a couple of students pretty badly. Before that he was booted out of the marines. He loved violence. But whatever happened in that apartment got to him - he was silent, man."

"How about Earl?"

"Earl was - different - like he dug it, you know?

He was licking his lips and rocking back and forth like an autistic kid. Jabbering, saying "Sonofabitch' over and over. Weird. Crazy. Finally Halstead told him to shut the fuck up and he yelled something back - in Spanish. The guy spoke a lot in Spanish. Halstead yelled back and I thought the two of them were going to tear each other up right there. It was like driving around with two caged beasts. I calmed them down, used Gus's name - that always worked for Earl. I couldn't wait to get away from them that night. Prototypical psychopaths, both of them."

"Save the scholarly stuff and tell me how you killed Bruno."

He looked at me with renewed fear.

"You know everything, don't you."

"What I don't you're going to fill in." I waved the gun in the air. "Bruno."

"We - they did that the night after doing the doctor and the teacher. Halstead didn't want Earl along but Gus insisted. Said two men on the job was better. I had the feeling he played them off against each other. I wasn't there at all. Halstead drove and did the killing. He used a baseball bat from the athletic supplies bin. I was there when he came back and told Gus about it. They found the salesman eating dinner, beat him to death right there at the table. Earl ate the rest of the meal."

Two murders pinned on two dead men. Very neat. It stunk and I told him so.

"That's the way it was. I'm not saying I'm totally innocent. I knew what they were going to do when I drove them to the shrink's place. I gave them the key. But I didn't do any of the killing."

"How'd you get the key?"

"Cousin Will gave it to me. I don't know where he got it."

"All right. We've talked about who. Now tell me why all the butchery."

"I assumed you knew - "

"Don't assume a goddam thing."

"Okay, okay. It's the Brigade. It's a cover for child molesters. The shrink and the girl found out and they were blackmailing him. Stupid of them to think they could get away with it."

I remembered the pictures Milo'd shown me that first day. They'd paid far too high a price for their stupidity.

I chased the bloody images from my mind and returned to Kruger.

"Are all the Gentlemen perverts?"

"No. Only a quarter. The rest are straight - arrows. It makes it easier to conceal, sneaking the perverts in among them."

"And the kids never talk?"

"Not until - we pick the ones that the per vs take home with care, mostly those who can't talk back. Retarded, or they don't know English, severely c.p. Gus likes orphans because they don't have family ties, no one looks out for them."

"Was Rodney one of the chosen ones?"

"Uh - huh."

"Did his fear of the doctor have something to do with that?"

"Yeah. One of the weirdos got a little rough with him. A surgeon. Gus warns them to go easy. He doesn't want the kids actually hurt - spoiled merchandise isn't worth as much. But it doesn't always work out. Those guys aren't normal, you know."

"I know." Anger and disgust made it hard to see straight. Kicking his head in would have been prim ally satisfying, but it was a pleasure I was going to have to deny myself…

"I'm not one of them," he was insisting, sounding almost as if he'd convinced himself. "I think it's disgusting, actually."

I bent down and grabbed him by the throat.

"You went along with it, asshole!"

His face purpled, the butterscotch eyes bulging. I let go of his head. It dropped to the floor. He landed on his nose and it started to bleed. He writhed in confinement.

"Don't say it. You were just following orders."

"You don't understand!" he sobbed. Real tears mixed with the mustache of blood on his upper lip creating a momentary illusion of harelip. But for his degree in drama I might have been impressed. "Gus took me in when the rest of them - my so - called friends and family, everyone - blackballed me for the Saxon thing. You can think what you want but that wasn't murder. It was - an accident. Saxon was no innocent victim. He wanted to kill me - that's the truth."

"He's in no position to state his case."

"Shit! Not one believed me. Except Gus. He knew what it could be like at that place. They all thought I was a washout - shame of the family and all that crap. He gave me responsibility. And I lived up to his expectations - I showed my stuff, showed you don't need a degree. Everything was perfect, I ran La Casa as smooth as - "

"You're a terrific storm trooper Tim. Right now I want answers."

"Ask," he said weakly.

"How long has the Brigade been a cover for child molesters?"

"From the beginning."

"Just like in Mexico?"

"Just like. Down there, to hear him tell it - the police knew all about it. All he had to do was grease a few palms. They let him bring in rich businessmen from Acapulco - Japanese, lots of Arabs - to play with the kids. The place was called Father Augustine's Christian Home - whatever that is in Spanish. It went good for a long time until a new police commissioner, some religious nut, took over and didn't like it. Gus claims the guy ripped him off for thousands in payoff then double - crossed him and shut the place down anyway. He moved up here and set up camp. Brought Crazy Earl with him."

"Earl was his boy in Mexico?"

"Yup. I figure he did the shit work Followed Gus like a lap dog. The guy spoke Spanish like a beaner - I mean the accent was fine but what he said was gibberish - we're talking brain damage, man. A robot with the screws loose."

"McCaffrey had him killed anyway."

Kruger gave the closest approximation to a shrug the ropes would allow.

"You have to know Gus. He's cold. Loves power. Get in his way and you're done. Those suckers didn't have a chance."

"How did he get set up so fast in L.A.?"

"Connections."

"Cousin Willie?"

He hesitated. I prodded him with the .38.

"Him. Judge Hayden. Some others. One seemed to lead to another. Each one knew at least one other closet sicko. Amazing how many of those guys there are. Cousin Will was a surprise to me, 'cause I knew him really well. Always seemed such a priss, holier than thou. My folks held him up as an example to follow - fine, upstanding Cousin Doctor." He laughed hoarsely. "And the guy's a kiddy boffer." More laughter. "Though I can't say I actually saw him take a kid home - I set up the schedules and I never set him up with anything. All I know he did was patch injured kids up whenever we called. Still, he must be as sick as the rest, why else would he be kissing up to Gus?"

I ignored the question and asked one of my own.

"How long was the blackmail going on?"

"A few months. Like I told you we screened the kids, to make sure they wouldn't talk. One time we blew it. There was this one boy, an orphan, just perfect. Everyone thought he was mute. Jesus, he never talked to us. We had speech and hearing tests - the government pays for all of that - and everything came back no speech. We were sure, and we were wrong. The kid talked all right. He told the teacher plenty. She freaked out and reported it to Cousin Will - he was the kid's pediatrician. She didn't know he was involved in it himself. He told Gus."