L.A. Confidential Part 30

No weapons in sight. n.o.body moved.

Odd sounds--"You're under arrest" strangling out. Jones put his hands up. Navarette raised his hands. Fontaine laced his hands behind his head. Sugar Ray said, "Cat got your G.o.dd.a.m.n tongue, sissy?"

Ed jerked the trigger: once, twice--buckshot took off Coates' legs. Recoil--Ed braced against the doorway, aimed. Fontaine and Navarette stood up screaming; Ed SQUEEZED the trigger, blew them up in one spread. Recoil, a bad pull: half the back wall came down.

Blood spray thick--Ed stumbled, wiped his eyes. He saw Jones make the elevator.

He ran after him: slid, tripped, caught up. Jones was pus.h.i.+ng b.u.t.tons, screaming prayers--inches from the gla.s.s, "Please Jesus." Ed aimed point-blank, squeezed twice. Gla.s.s and buckshot took his head off.

Strong legs now, f.u.c.k civilian screams all around him.

Ed ran downstairs, into a crowd: blues, plainclothesmen. Hands pounded his back; men shouted his name. A voice close by: "Millard's dead. Heart attack at the Bureau."

CHAPTER FORTY

Rain for the funeral. A graveside service: Dudley Smith's eulogy, a priest's last words.

Every Bureau man attended: Thad Green's orders. Parker called out the press: a little ceremony after they planted Russ Millard. Bud watched Ed Exley comfort the widow--his best profile to the cameras.

A week of cameras, headlines: Ed Exley, "L.A.'s Greatest Hero"--World War II stalwart, the man who slayed the Nite Owl slayers and their accomplice. Ellis Loew told the press the three confessed before they escaped--n.o.body mentioned the n.i.g.g.e.rs were unarmed. Ed Exley was made.

The priest's spiel picked up steam. The widow started weeping--Exley put an arm around her shoulders. Bud walked away.

Lightning, more rain--Bud ducked into the chapel. Parker's soiree was set up: lectern, chairs, a table laid out with sandwiches. More lightning--Bud looked out the window, saw the casket hit the dirt. Ashes to f.u.c.king ashes--Stens got six months, scuttleb.u.t.t had Exicy and Inez a hot item: kill four jigs, get the girl.

The mourners headed up--Ellis Loew slipped, took a pratfall. Bud hit on the good stuff: Lynn, West Valley on the Kathy snuff. Let the bad s.h.i.+t go for now.

Into the chapel: raincoats and umbrellas dumped, a rush for seats. Parker and Exley stood by the lectern. Bud sprawled in a chair at the back.

Reporters, notepads. Front row seats: Loew, the widow Millard, Preston Exley--hot news for Dream-a-Dreamland.

Parker spoke into the mike. "This is a sad occasion, an occasion of mourning. We mourn a kind and good man and a dedicated policeman. We mark his pa.s.sing with regret. The loss of Captain Russell A. Millard is the loss of Mrs. Millard, the Millard family and all of us here. It will be a hard loss to bear, but bear it we will. There is a pa.s.sage I recall from somewhere in the annals of literature. That pa.s.sage is 'If there was no G.o.d, how could I be a Captain?' It is G.o.d who will see us through our grief and our loss. The G.o.d who allowed Russ Millard to become a captain, His captain."

Parker pulled out a small velvet case. "And life continues through our losses. The loss of one splendid policeman coincides with the emergence of another one. Edmund J. Exley, detective sergeant, has ama.s.sed a brilliant record in his ten years with the Los Angeles Police Department, three of those years given over to service in the United States Army. Ed Exley received the Distinguished Service Cross for gallantry in the Pacific Theater, and last week he evinced spectacular bravery in the line of duty. It is my honor to present him with the highest measure of honor this police department can bestow: our Medal of Valor."

Exley stepped forward. Parker opened the case, took out a gold medallion hung from a blue satin ribbon and placed it around his neck. The men shook hands--Exley had tears in his eyes. Flashbulbs popped, reporters scribbled, no applause. Parker tapped the mike.

"The Medal of Valor is a very high expression of esteem, but not one with practical everyday applications. Spiritual ramifications aside, it does not reward the recipient with the challenge of good, hard police work. Today I am going to utilize a rarely used chief's prerogative and reward Ed Exley with work. I am promoting him two entire ranks, to captain, and a.s.signing him as the Los Angeles Police Department's floating divisional commander, the a.s.signment formerly held by our much loved colleague Russ Millard."

Preston Exley stood up. Civilians stood up; the Bureau men stood on cue--Thad Green flashed them two thumbs. Scattered applause, lackl.u.s.ter. Ed Exley stood ramrod straight; Bud stayed sprawled in his chair. He took out his gun, kissed it, blew pretend smoke off the barrel.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

A gala lawn wedding, a Presbyterian service--old man Morrow called the shots and picked up the tab. June 19, 1953: the Big V ties the knot.

Miller Stanton best man; Joanie Loew--swacked on champagne punch--matron of honor. Dudley Smith the hit of the reception--stories, Gaelic songs. Parker and Green came at Ellis Loew's request; boy captain Ed Exley showed up. The Morrows' social circle pals rounded out the guest list--and swelled old Welton's huge backyard to bursting.

Marriage vows for his close-out. Bad debts settled good: new calendar days, his "insurance policy deposition" stashed in fourteen different bank vaults. Scary vows: he pumped himself up at the altar.

Parker buried the Hudgens killing. Bracken and Patchett stalemated. Dudley called off his tail on White, bought his phony reports: no Lynn, White prowling bars at night. He staked Lynn's place for a couple of days, it looked like she had a good thing going with Bud--who always was a sucker.

Like himself The minister said the words; they said the words; Jack kissed his bride. Hugs, backsiaps--well wishers swept them away from each other. Parker drummed up some warmth; Ed Exley worked the crowd, no sign of his Mexican girl. Nicknames now: "Shotgun Ed," "Triggerman Eddie." "L.A.'s Greatest Hero" smiles on a bagman cop marrying up.

Jack found a spot above the pool house--a little rise with a view. Two celebrants stuck out: Karen, Exley. Give him credit: he seized the opportunity, made the Department look bold. He wouldn't have had the stomach for it--or the rage.

Exley. White. Himself Jack counted secrets: his own, whatever lived at that edge where p.o.r.nography touched a dead scandal monger and lightly brushed the Nite Owl Ma.s.sacre. He thought of Bud White, Ed Exley. He sent up a wedding day prayer: the Nite Owl dead and buried, safe pa.s.sage for ruthless men in love.

CALENDAR 1954

EXTRACT: L.A. _Herald-Express_, June 16:

EX-POLICEMAN ARRESTED FOR MURDEROUS ROBBERY SPREE

Richard Alex Stensland, 40, former Los Angeles police detective and a defendant in the 1951 "b.l.o.o.d.y Christmas" police scandal, was arrested early this morning and charged with six counts of armed robbery and two counts of first-degree murder. Arrested with him at his hideout in Pacoima were Dennis "The Weasel" Burns, 43, and Lester John Miciak, 37. The other men were charged with four armed-robbery counts and two counts of first-degree murder.

The arrest raid was led by Captain Edmund J. Exley, divisional floating commander for the Los Angeles Police Department, currently a.s.signed to head up the LAPD's Robbery Division. a.s.sisting Captain Exley were Sergeants Duane Fisk and Donald Kleckner. Exley, whose testimony in the b.l.o.o.d.y Christmas scandal sent Stensland to jail in 1952, told reporters: "Eyewitnesses identified photographs of the three men. We have conclusive proof that these men are responsible for stickups at six central Los Angeles liquor stores, including the robbery of Sol's Liquors in the Silverlake District on June 9. The proprietor of that store and his son were shot and killed during that robbery and eyewitnesses place both Stensland and Burns at the scene. Intensive questioning of the suspects will begin soon, and we expect to clear up many other unsolved robberies."

Stensland, Burns and Miciak offered no resistance during their arrest. They were taken to the Hall of Justice Jail, where Stensland was restrained from attacking Captain Exley.

BANNER: L.A. _Mirror-News_, June 21:

STENSLAND CONFESSES, DESCRIBES REIGN OF ROBBERY TERROR

BANNER:L.A. _Herald-Express_, September 23:

LIQUOR STORE KILLERS CONVICTED; DEATH PENALTY FOR EX-POLICEMAN

EXTRACT: L.A. _Times_, November 11:

STENSLAND DIES FOR LIQUOR STORE KILLINGS--GUNMAN FORMER POLICEMAN

At 10:03 yesterday morning, Richard Stensland, 41 and a former Los Angeles police officer, died in the gas chamber at San Quentin Prison for the June 9 murders of Solomon and David Abramowitz. The killings took place during a liquor store holdup. Stensland was convicted and sentenced on September 22 and refused to appeal his sentence.

The execution went off smoothly, although Stensland appeared inebriated. Present among the press and prison officials were two LAPD detectives: Captain Edmund J. Exley, the man responsible for Stensland's capture, and Officer Wendell White, the condemned killer's former partner. Officer White visited Stensland in his death row cell on execution eve and stayed through the night with him. a.s.sistant Warden B. D. Terwilliger denied that Officer White supplied Stensland with intoxicating liquor and denied that White viewed the execution while drunk himseW. Stensland verbally abused the prison chaplain who was present and his last words were obscenities directed at Captain Exley.

1955

_Hush-Hush_ Magazine, May 1955 Issue:

WHO KILLED SID HUDGENS?

Justice in the City of the Fallen Angels reminds us of a line from that sin-sational sepia show _Porgy and Bess_. Like "a man," it's "a sometime thing." As in for instance: if you're a well-connected contributor to demon D.A. Ellis Loew's slush fund and you get murdered--killer beware!! !--L.A. Chief of Police William H. Parker will spare no expense unearthing the fiend who put you on the night train to the Big Adios. But if you're a crusading journalist writing for this magazine and you get chopped into Ken-L Ration in your own living room--killer rejoice!! !--Chief Parker and his moralistic, misanthropic, mindless mongolians will sit on their hands (well worn from palming payoffs) and whistle "justice is a sometime thing" while the killer whistles Dixie.

It has now been two years since Sid Hudgens was fatally slashed in his Chapman Park living room. Two years ago the LAPD had its (sticky, graft-ridden) hands full with the infamous Nite Owl murder case, which was resolved when one of their members took the law into his own (overweeningly ambitious, opportunistic) hands and shotgunned the shotgunners to the Big Au Revoir. Sid Hudgens' murder was a.s.signed to two flunky detectives with a total of zero "made" homicide cases between them. They, of course, did not fmd the killer or killers, spent most of their days here at the _Hush-Hush_ office reading back issues for clues, scarfing coffee and doughnuts and ogling the comely editorial a.s.sistants who flock to _Hush-Hush_ because we know where the bodies are buried . . .

We at _Hush-Hush_ tap the inside pulse of the City of the Fallen Angels, and we _have_ investigated the Sidster's death on our own. We have gotten nowhere, and we ask the Los Angeles Police Department the following questions: Sid's pad was ransacked. What happened to the ultra on the QT, ultra secret and ultra _Hush-Hush_ files the Sidster was supposed to be keeping--sinuendo even too scalding for us to publish?

Why didn't D.A. Ellis Loew, elected largely on the strength of a _Hush-Hush_ article exposing the peccadillos of his inc.u.mbent opponent, give us a backscratch in return and use his legal juice to force the LAPD to track down the Sidster's slayer?

Celebrity cop John "Jack" Vincennes, the famous dope scourge "Big V," was a close friend of Sid's and was responsible for many of his crusading exposes on the menace of narcotics. Why didn't Jack (heavily connected to Ellis Loew--we won't utter the word "bagman," but feel free to _think_ it) investigate the killing on his own, out of pais.h.i.+p for his beloved buddy the Sidster?

Unanswerable questions for now--unless _you_, the reading public, take up the cry. Look for updates in future issues--and remember, dear reader, you heard it first here: off the record, on the QT and _very_ Hush-Hush.

_Hush-Hush_ magazine, December 1955 issue:

JUSTICE WATCH: BEWARE THE LOEW/VINCENNES COMBINE!!!!