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.Gallaudet had a new haircut: that Jack Kennedy/Welles Noonan style.A nod my way, but no shake--bad-press cops rated low.Walter O'Malley sidled by--Bob almost genuflected.Chavez Ravine, ballpark, ballpark--loud, happy."Hello, lad."That brogue--Dudley Smith."Hello, Dud.""A fine evening, is it not? Mark my words, we are celebrating the beginning of a splendid political career."An envelope passed: Dodger man to DA's man."Bob was always ambitious.""Like yourself, lad.And does the prospect of a stadium for our home team thrill you?""Not particularly."Dud laughed."Nor I.Chavez Ravine was a splendid place to purchase spic trinkets, but now I fear it will be replaced by traffic jams and more smog.Do you follow baseball, lad?""No.""Not interested in athletics? Is extracurricular money your only passion?""It's this Jew name I got stuck with."Howls--his suitcoat gapped.Check the ordnance: magnum, sap, switchblade."Lad, you have the power to amuse this old man.""I only get funny when I'm bored--and baseball bores me.Boxing's more my sport."Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html"Ah, I should have known.Ruthless men always admire fisticuffs.And I phrase 'ruthless' as a compliment, lad.""No offense taken.And speaking of boxing, Johnny Duhamel's working for you, right?""Correct, and a splendidly fear-inducing addition to the Mobster Squad he is.I've given him work on my fur-robbery job as well, and he is proving himself to be a splendid all-around young policeman.Why do you ask, lad?""His name came up.One of my men used to teach at the Academy.Duhamel was a student of his.""Ahh, yes.George Stemmons, Jr., am I correct? What a memory for students past that lad must have.""That's him."Exley nailed me--a curt nod.Dud caught it: "Go, lad, Chief Exley beckons from across the room.Ah, the gaze of a shark he has.""Good seeing you, Dud.""My pleasure entirely, lad."I walked over.Exley, straight off: "There's a briefing day after tomorrow.Nine o'clock, all Bureau COs.Be there--we're going to discuss the Fed probe.Also, I want you to get ahold of the Kafesjian family's tax records.You're an attorney--find a loophole.""Income tax records require a Federal writ.Why don't you ask Welles Noonan? It's his district."White knuckles--his wineglass shook."I read your report, and the john names interest me.I want a trick sweep on Western and Adams tomorrow night.Set it up with University Vice, and detach as many men as you need.I want detailed information on Lucille Kafesjian's customers.""Are you sure you want to risk riling that family with the Feds around the goddamn corner?""Do it, Lieutenant.Don't question my motives or ask why."Pissed--I hit the lobby steaming.A phone, a dime-buzz the Bureau."Administrative Vice, Officer Riegle.""Sid, it's me.""Hi, Skipper.You telepathic? Hollenbeck just left you a message.""Hold on, I need you to set something up first.""All ears.""Call University and set up a trick sweep.Say eight men and two whore wagons.Make it eleven P.M.tomorrow night, Western and Adams, Chief Exley's authorization."Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlSid whistled."Care to explain?"BRAINSTORM:"And tell the squad lieutenant I need a row of interrogation rooms, and tell Junior Stemmons to meet me at the station, I want him in on this."Scribble sounds."It's on paper.You want that message now?""Shoot.""The Pawnshop Detail turned the Kafesjian silverware.Some Mexican tried to pawn it in Boyle Heights, and the shop owner saw our bulletin and stalled him.He's in custody at Hollenbeck Station."I whooped--heads turned."Call Hollenbeck, Sid.Tell them to put the Mex in a sweat room.I'll be right over.""On it, Skipper."Back to the party--Gas Chamber Bob swamped--no way to check out graceful.A blonde swirled by--Glenda--a blink--just some woman.CHAPTER ELEVENJesus Chasco--fat, Mex--not my peeper.No rap sheet, a '58 green card running out.Scared--the sweat room sweats."Habla inglés, Jesus?""I speak English good as you do."Skim the crime sheet."This says you attempted to sell stolen silverware to the Happytime Pawnshop.You told the officers that you didn't steal the silverware, but you wouldn't tell them where you got it.Okay, that's one felony--receiving stolen goods.You gave your car as your address, so that's a misdemeanor charge--vagrancy.How old are you, Jesus?"T-shirt and khakis--sweated up."Forty-three.Why you ask me that?""I'm figuring five years in San Quentin, then the boot back to Mexico.By the time you get back here, you might win a prize as the world's oldest wetback."Chasco waved his arms; sweat flew."I sleep in my car to save money!""Yeah, to bring your family up here [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]