Mobster Squad duty: room 6, the Victory Motel. Bud, Mike Breuning, a Frisco boy cuffed to the hot seat—Joe Sifakis, three loanshark falls, snatched off a train at Union Station. Breuning worked the hose; Bud watched.
Fourteen hundred on the dresser—a police charity donation. A get-out-of-town pitch in high gear—dental work coming up. Bud checked his watch—4:20—Dudley was late. Sifakis screamed.
Bud walked into the bathroom. Four obscene walls: sex ditties, some dated. ’53 entries—he thought Nite Owl straight off. Scary: the Nite Owl big-time news, Dud wanted to talk to him bad. He turned on the sink—cover the screams. He tested his Nite Owl string, found it watertight.
Nobody knew he leaked his story to Whisper—if the high brass knew he would have heard—and Cathcart’s stiff was still under the house. Nobody knew he tipped the Gaitsville Sheriff’s to the Englekling connection to the Nite Owl. Lucky breaks: the brothers dead, the spook up at Quentin—probably a legit alibi. He was clean on the evidence he suppressed in ’53—if Dudley had an inkling he was holding stuff back it probably tied to his fix on the Kathy snuff. Dud was the Nite Owl supervisor, he’d want the brouhaha to pass—a reopening would make him look like a supporting player chump—second banana to hero chump Ed Exley. Parker was trying to keep a reopening kiboshed, call the odds against it 5 to 1, 5 to 1 that Exley would come out smelling—
Sifakis screamed—the door shook.
Bud doused his head in the sink. A scrawl by the mirror: Meg Greunwitz fucks good—AX-74022. Girls’ names on the walls; last week the L.A. Sheriff’s bagged a dead hooker, add it to his list: Lynette Ellen Kendrick, age 21, DOD 3/17/58. Beaten, ring lacerations, three-hole rape—the county cops wouldn’t give him the time of—
Sifakis started babbling. The bathroom got too hot to take.
Bud walked out. Sifakis, snitch-frenzied. “…and I know things, I hear things. Like, dig, with the Mick out it’s open season. Things was on this weird slowdown while he was inside, but these shooter teams took out these guys that was running his franchises, then these maverick guys, three triggers bang bang bang, they 86’d Mickey’s men and these guys trying to crash his loanouts. Everybody used to respect Dud S. as a trucemaker, but now he don’t do a damn thing. You want a prostie roust? Huh? Huh? You want a good tip on a…”
Breuning looked bored. Bud went out to the courtyard: crabgrass, barbed-wire fenced. Fourteen empty rooms—LAPD bought the property cheap.
“Lad.”
Dudley on the sidewalk. Bud lit a cigarette, walked over.
“Lad, I’m sorry I’m late.”
“It don’t matter, you said it was serious.”
“Yes, it is all of that. How are you enjoying the Hollywood squad, lad? Is it to your liking?”
“I liked Homicide better.”
“Grand, and I’ll see to it that you return sometime soon. And have you been relishing the spectacle of friend Exley ridiculed by the fourth estate?”
Smoke made him cough. “Yeah, sure. Too bad the case won’t get reopened and really make him squirm. Not that I’d want to see you stand heat for it, though.”
Dudley laughed. “I see the conflicts inherent in your perspective. And I feel a certain ambivalence myself, especially since a little birdie in Sacramento has informed me that the attorney general will soon press to reopen the case. Ellis Loew has an injunction prepared should things get dicey, so I think it is safe to assume that the Nite Owl is regrettably our hot potato once again. Political infighting, lad. The pinko Democrats have taken the tack of jigaboos wrongly accused, intend to press the issue during the primary elections, and the Republican A.G. has sidestepped and counterpunched. Lad, do you possess any Nite Owl information that you haven’t presented to me?”
Ready, prepared. “No.”
“Ah, grand. That aside then, I have an assignment for you here at the Victory tonight. A very large and muscular man requires a bracing, and frankly Mike and Dick lack the presence to appropriately impress him. It’s a small world, lad—I think this chap knew our friend Duke Cathcart back in ’53. Maybe he can give you some information on your Kathy Janeway fixation. Does fair Kathy’s fate still concern you, lad?”
Bud swallowed—dry.
“Lad, forget that I asked. Fixations like that are like prostitutes—they can reform, but their old ways still linger. Tonight at 10:00, lad. And be of good cheer. I have some extracurricular work for you soon, work that should rekindle your old fearsome habits.”
Bud blinked.
Dudley smiled, walked to room 6.
Prostitute equals Lynn. Janeway jibe equals just how much?
Joe Sifakis screamed—through four walls, out to the edge of the courtyard.