L.A. Confidential Part 54

Ed walked to the south fence perimeter--the closest route from Billy Dieterling's house. Gristled skin on chain links-- handholds up and over. Dark dots on faded asphalt--blood, an easy trail.

Across the playground, down steps to a boiler room door. Blood on the k.n.o.b, a light on inside. He took out Bud White's spare, walked in.

David Mertens shivering in a corner. A hot room--the man sweating up b.l.o.o.d.y clothes. He showed his teeth, twisted his mouth into a screech. Ed threw the pills at him.

He grabbed them, gagged them down. Ed aimed at his mouth, couldn't pull the trigger. Mertens stared at him. Something strange happened with time--it left them alone. Mertens fell asleep, his lips curled over his gums. Ed looked at his face, tried for some outrage. He still couldn't kill him.

Time came back: the wrong way. Trials, sanity hearings, Preston Exley reviled for letting this monster go free. Time hard on the trigger--he still couldn't do it.

Ed picked the man up, carried him out to his car.

Pacific Sanitarium--Malibu Canyon. Ed told the gate guard to send down Dr. Lux--Captain Exley wanted to pay back his favor.

The guard pointed him to a s.p.a.ce. Ed parked, ripped off Mertens' shirt. Brutal--the man was one huge scar.

Lux headed over. Ed pulled out two bags of powder, two stacks of thousand-dollar bills. He placed them on the hood, rolled down the rear windows.

Lux walked up, checked the back seat. "I know that work. That's Douglas Dieterling."

"Just like that?"

Lux tapped the powder. "The late Pierce Patchett's? Let's not be outraged, Captain. The last I heard you were no Cub Scout. And what is it that you wish?"

"That man taken care of on a locked ward for the rest of his life."

"I find that acceptable. Is this compa.s.sion or the desire to spare our future governor's reputation?"

"I don't know."

"Not a typical Exley answer. Enjoy the grounds, Captain. I'll have my orderlies clean up here."

Ed walked to a terrace, looked at the ocean. Sun, waves-- maybe some sharks out feeding. A radio snapped on behind him. ". . . so for more on that thwarted prison train break. A Highway Patrol spokesman told reporters that the death toll now stands at twenty-eight inmates, seven guards and crew members. Four deputy sheriffs were injured and Sergeant John Vincennes, celebrated Los Angeles policeman and the former technical advisor to the _Badge of Honor_ TV show, was shot and killed. Sergeant Vincennes' partner, LAPD Sergeant Wendell White, is in critical condition at Fontana General Hospital. White pursued and killed the crash-out's pickup man, identified as Burt Arthur 'Deuce' Perkins, a nightclub entertainer with underworld connections. A team of doctors are now striving to save the valiant officer's life, although he is not expected to live. Captain George Rachlis of the California Highway Patrol calls this tragedy--"

The ocean blurred through his tears. White winked and said, "Thanks for the push." Ed turned around. The monster, the dope, the money-gone.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

The pool stash: twenty-one pounds of heroin, $871,400, carbons of Sid Hudgens' dirt files. Included: blackmail photos, records of Pierce Patchett's criminal enterprises. The name "Dudley Smith" did not appear--nor did the names of John Stompanato, Burt Arthur Perkins, Abe Teitlebaum, Lee Vachss, Dot Rothstein, Sergeant Mike Breuning, Officer d.i.c.k Carlisle. Coleman Stein, Sal Bonventre, George Magdaleno--killed in the crash-out. Davey Goldman reinterviewed at Camarillo State Hospital--he could not give a coherent statement. The Los Angeles County Coroner's Office ruled Dot Rothstein's death a suicide. David Mertens stayed in locked-ward custody at Pacific Sanitarium. Relatives of the three innocent citizens killed at Abe's Noshery brought suit against the LAPD for reckless endangerment. The crash-out received national news coverage, was labeled the "Blue Denim Ma.s.sacre." Surviving inmates told Sheriff's detectives that squabbling among the armed prisoners resulted in guns changing hands-- soon every inmate on the train was free. Racial tensions flared up, aborting the crash-out before the authorities arrived.

Jack Vincennes was posthumously awarded the LAPD's Medal of Valor. No LAPD men were invited to the funeral--the widow refused an audience with Captain Ed Exley.

Bud White refused to die. He remained in intensive care at Fontana General Hospital. He survived ma.s.sive shock, neurological trauma, the loss of over half the blood in his body. Lynn Bracken stayed with him. He could not speak, but responded to questions with nods. Chief Parker presented him with his Medal of Valor. White freed an arm from a traction sling, threw the medal in his face.

Ten days pa.s.sed.

A warehouse in San Pedro burned to the ground--remnants of p.o.r.nographic books were discovered. Detectives labeled the fire "professional arson," reported no leads. The building was owned by Pierce Patchett. Chester Yorkin and Lorraine Malvasi were reinterrogated. They offered no salient information, were released from custody.

Ed Exley burned the heroin, kept the files and the money. His final Nite Owl report omitted mention of Dudley Smith and the fact that David Mertens, now the object of an all-points bulletin for his murders of Sid Hudgens, Billy Dieterling and Jerry Marsalas, was also the 1934 slayer of Wee Willie Wennerholm and five other children. Preston Exley's name was not spoken in any context.

Chief Parker held a press conference. He announced that the Nite Owl case had been solved-correctly this time. The gunmen were Burt Arthur "Deuce" Perkins, Lee Vachss, Abraham "Kikey" Teitlebaum--their motive to kill Dean Van Gelder, an ex-convict masquerading as the incorrectly identified Delbert "Duke" Cathcart. The shootings were conceived as a terror tactic, an attempt to take over the vice kingdom of Pierce Morehouse Patchett, a recent murder victim himself. The State Attorney General's Office reviewed Captain Ed Exley's 114-page case summary and announced that it was satisfied. Ed Exley again received credit for breaking the Nite Owl murder case. He was promoted to inspector in a televised ceremony.

The next day Preston Exley announced that he would seek the Republican Party's gubernatorial nomination. He shot to the front of a hastily conducted poll.

Johnny Stompanato returned from Acapulco, moved into Lana Turner's house in Beverly Hills. He remained there, never venturing outside, the object of a constant surveillance supervised by Sergeants Duane Fisk and Don Kleckner. Chief Parker and Ed Exley referred to him as their Nite Owl "Addendum"-- the living perpetrator to feed the public now that they were temporarily moffified with dead killers. When Stompanato left Beverly Hills for Los Angeles City proper, he would be arrested. Parker wanted a clean front-page arrest just over the city line--he was wiffing to wait for it.

The Nite Owl case and the murders of Billy Dieterhng and Jerry Marsalas remamed news They were never speculatively connected. Timmy Valburn refused to comment. Raymond Dieterhng issued a press release expressmg grief over the loss of his son He closed down Dream a Dreamland for a one month period of mourning. He remained in seclusion at his house in Laguna Beach, attended to by his friend and aide Inez Soto.

Sergeant Mike Breuning and Officer d.i.c.k Carlisle remained on emergency leave.

Captain Dudley Smith remained front stage center throughout the post-reopening round of press conferences and LAPD/D.A.'s Office meetings. He served as toastmaster at Thad Green's surprise party honoring Inspector Ed Exley. He did not appear in any way fl.u.s.tered knowing that Johnny Stompanato remained at large, was under twenty-four-hour surveillance and thus immune to a.s.sa.s.sination. He did not seem to care that Stompanato would be arrested in the near future.

Preston Exley, Raymond Dieterling and Inez Soto did not contact Ed Exley to congratulate him on his promotion and reversal of bad press.

Ed knew they knew. He a.s.sumed Dudley knew. Vincennes dead, White fighting to live. Only he and Bob Gallaudet knew--and Gallaudet knew nothing pertaining to his father and the Atherton case.

Ed wanted to kill Dudley outright.

Gallaudet said, kill yourself instead, that's what you'd be doing.

They decided to wait it out, do it right.

Bud White made the wait unbearable.

He had tubes in his arms, splints on his fingers. His chest held three hundred st.i.tches. Bullets had shattered bones, ripped arteries. He had a plate in his head. Lynn Bracken tended to him--she could not meet Ed's eyes. White could not talk--being able to talk in the future was doubtful. His eyes were eloquent: Dudley. Your father. What are you going to do about it? He kept trying to make the V-for-victory sign. Three visits, Ed finally got it: the Victory Motel, Mobster Squad HQ.

He went there. He found detailed notes on White's prost.i.tutekilling investigation. The notes were a limited man reaching for the stars, puffing most of them down. Limits exceeded through a briffiantly persistent rage. Absolute justice--anonymous, no rank and glory. A single line on the Englekling brothers that told him their killer still walked free. Room 11 at the Victory Motel--Wendell "Bud" White seen for the first time.

Ed knew why he sent him there--and followed up.

A phone company check, one interview--all it took. Confirmation, an epigraph to build on it: Absolute Justice. The TV news said Ray Dieterling walked through Dream-a-Dreamland every day-casing his grief in a deserted fantasy kingdom. He'd give Bud White a full day of his justice.

Good Friday, 1958. The A.M. news showed Preston Exley entering St. James Episcopal Church. Ed drove to City Hall, walked up to Ellis Loew's office.

Still early--no receptionist. Loew at his desk, reading. Ed rapped on the door.

Loew glanced up. "Inspector Ed. Have a chair."

"I'll stand."

"Oh? Is this business?"

"Of sorts. Last month Bud White called you from San Francisco and told you Spade Cooley was a s.e.x killer. You said you'd put a D.A.'s Bureau team on it, and you didn't. Cooley has donated in excess of fifteen thousand dollars to your slush fund. You called the Biltmore Hotel from your place in Newport and talked to a member of Cooley's band. You told him to warn Spade and the rest of the guys that a crazy cop was going to come around and cause trouble. White braced Deuce Perkins, the real killer. Perkins sent him after Spade, he probably thought he'd kill him and save him from the rap. Perkins was warned by you and went into hiding. He stayed out long enough to turn White into a vegetable."

Loew, calm. "You can't prove any of that. And since when are you so concerned about White?"

Ed laid a folder on his desk. "Sid Hudgens had a file on you. Contribution shakedowns, felony indictments you dismissed for money. He's got the McPherson tank job doc.u.mented, and Pierce Patchett had a photograph of you sucking a male prost.i.tute's d.i.c.k. Resign from office or it all goes public."

Loew--sheet white. "I'll take you with me."

"Do it. I'd enjoy the ride."

He saw it from the freeway: Rocketland and Paul's World juxtaposed--a s.p.a.ceship growing out of a mountain, a big empty parking lot. He took surface streets to the gate, showed the guard his shield. The man nodded, swung the fence open.

Two figures strolled the Grand Promenade. Ed parked, walked up to them. Dream-a-Dreamland stood hear-a-pin-drop silent.

Inez saw him--a pivot, a hand on Dieterling's arm. They whispered; Inez walked off.

Dieterling turned. "Inspector."

"Mr. Dieterling."

"It's Ray. And I'm tempted to say what took you so long."

"You knew I'd be coming?"

"Yes. Your father disagreed and went on with his plans, but I knew better. And I'm grateful for the chance to tell it here."

Paul's World across from them--fake snow near blinding. Dieterling said, "Your father, Pierce and I were dreamers. Pierce's dreams were twisted, mine were kind and good. Your father's dreams were ruthless--as I suspect yours are. You should know that before you judge me."

Ed leaned against a rail, settled in. Dieterling spoke to his mountain.

1920.

His first wife, Margaret, died in an automobile accident--she bore his son Paul. 1924--his second wife, Janice, gave birth to son Billy. While married to Margaret, he had an affair with a disturbed woman named Faye Borchard. She gave him son Douglas in 1917. He gave her money to keep the boy's existence secret--he was a rising young filmmaker, wished a life free of complications, was willing to pay for it. Only he and Faye knew the facts of Douglas' parentage. Douglas knew Ray Dieterling as a kindly friend.

Douglas grew up with his mother; Dieterling visited frequently, a two-family life: wife Margaret dead, sons Paul and Billy ensconced with himself and wife Janice--a sad woman who went on to divorce him.

Faye Borchard drank laudanum. She made Douglas watch p.o.r.nographic cartoons that Raymond made for money, part of a Pierce Patchett scheme-cash to finance their legitimate dealings. The films were erotic, horrific--they featured flying monsters that raped and killed. The concept was Patchett's--he put his narcotic fantasies on paper, handed Ray Dieterling an inkwell. Douglas became obsessed with flight and its s.e.xual possibilities.

Dieterling loved his son Douglas--despite his rages and fits of strange behavior. He despised his son Paul--who was petty, tyrannical, stupid. Douglas and Paul greatly resembled each other.

Ray Dieterling grew famous; Douglas Borchard grew wild. He lived with Faye, watched his father's cartoon nightmares-- birds plucking children out of schoolyards--Patchett fantasies painted on film. He grew into his teens stealing, torturing animals, hiding out in skid row strip shows. He met Loren Atherton on the row--that evil man found an accomplice.

Atherton's obsession was dismemberment; Douglas' obsession was flight. They shared an interest in photography, were s.e.xually aroused by children. They sp.a.w.ned the idea of creating children to their own specifications.

They began killing and building hybrid children, photographing their works in progress. Douglas killed birds to provide wings for their creations. They needed a beautiful face; Douglas suggested Wee Willie Wennerholm's--it would be a kindly nod to kindly "Uncle Rat--whose early work he found so exciting. They s.n.a.t.c.hed Wee Willie, butchered him.

The newspapers called the child killer "Dr. Frankenstein"--it was a.s.sumed there was only one a.s.sailant. Inspector Preston Exley commanded the police investigation. He learned of Loren Atherton, a paroled child molester. He arrested Atherton, discovered his storage garage abattoir, his collection of photographs. Atherton confessed to the crimes, said that they were his work solely, did not implicate Douglas and stated his desire to die as the King of Death. The press lauded Inspector Exley, echoed his appeal: citizens with information on Atherton were asked to come forth as witnesses.

Ray Dieterling visited Douglas. Alone in his room, he discovered a trunk full of slaughtered birds, a child's fingers packed in dry ice. He _knew_ immediately.

And felt responsible--his quick-buck obscenities had created a monster. He confronted Douglas, learned that he might have been seen at the school near the time Wee Willie was kidnapped.

Protective measures: A psychiatrist bribed to silence diagnosed Douglas: a psychotic personality, his disorder compounded by chemical brain imbalances. Remedy: the proper drugs applied for life to keep him docile. Ray Dieterling was friends with Pierce Patchett--a chemist who dabbled in such drugs. Pierce for inner protection--Pierce's friend Terry Lux for the outer.

Lux cut Douglas a whole new face. Atherton's lawyer stalled the trial. Preston Exley kept looking for witnesses--a wellpublicized search. Ray Dieterling treaded panic--then formed a bold plan.

He fed drugs to Douglas and young Miller Stanton. He coached them to say they saw Loren Atherton, alone, kidnap Wee Willie Wennerholm--they were afraid to come forth until now-- afraid Dr. Frankenstein would get them. The boys told Preston Exley their story; he believed them; they identified the monster. Atherton did not recognize his surgically altered friend.

Two years pa.s.sed. Loren Atherton was tried, convicted, executed. Terry Lux cut Douglas again--destroying his resemblance to the witness boy. Douglas lived in Pierce Patchett sedation, a room at a private hospital--guarded by male nurses. Ray Dieterling became even more successful. Then Preston Exley knocked on his door.

His news: a young girl, older now, had come forth. She had seen Dieterling's son Paul with Loren Atherton--at the school the day Wee Willie was kidnapped.

Dieterling knew it was really Douglas--his resemblance to Paul was that strong. He offered Exley a large amount of money to desist. Exley took the money--then attempted to return it. He said, "Justice. I want to arrest the boy."

Dieterling saw his empire ruined. He saw the petty and mindless Paul exonerated. He saw Douglas somehow captured-- destroyed for the grief his art had sp.a.w.ned. He insisted that Exley keep the money--Exley did not protest. He asked him if there was no other way.

Exley asked him if Paul was guilty.

Raymond Dieterling said, "Yes."

Preston Exley said, "Execution."

Raymond Dieterling agreed.

He took Paul camping in the Sierra Nevada. Preston Exley was waiting. They dosed the boy's food; Exley shot him in his sleep and buried him. The world thought Paul was lost in an avalanche--the world believed the lie. Dieterling thought he would hate the man. The price of justice on his face told him he was just another victim. They shared a bond now. Preston Exley gave up police work to build buildings with Dieterling seed money. When Thomas Exley was killed, Ray Dieterling was the first one he called. Together they built from the weight of their dead.

Dieterling ended it. "And all of this is my rather pathetic happy ending."

Mountains, rockets, rivers--they all seemed to smile. "My father never knew about Douglas? He really thought Paul was guilty?"

"Yes. Will you forgive me? In your father's name."

Ed took out a clasp. Gold oak-leafs--Preston Exley's inspector's insignia. A hand-me-down--Thomas got it first. "No. I'm going to submit a report to the county grand jury requesting that you be indicted for the murder of your son."

"A week to get my affairs in order? Where could I run to, someone as famous as I am."

Ed said, "Yes," walked to his car.