James Ellroy - L. A. Confidential

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 passed. 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 spawned. 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.

The freeway model gone-replaced by campaign posters. Art De Spain unpacking leaflets, no arm bandage-a textbook bullet scar. "Hello, Eddie."

"Where's Father?"

"He'll be back soon. And congratulations on inspector. I should have called you, but things have been hectic around here."

"Father hasn't called me either. You're all pretending everything's fine."

"Eddie…"

A bulge on Art's left hip-he still carried a piece. "I just spoke to Ray Dieterling."

"We didn't think you would."

"Give me your gun, Art."

De Spain handed it over butt first. Silencer threads, S &W.38s.

"Why?"

"Eddie..

Ed dumped the shells. "Dieterling told me everything. And you were Father's exec back then."

The man looked proud. "You know my M.O., Sunny Jim. It was for Preston. I've always been his loyal adjutant."

"And you knew about Paul Dieterling."

De Spain took his gun back. "Yes, and I've known for years that he wasn't the real killer. I got a tip back in '48 or so. It placed the kid somewhere else at the time of the Wennerholm snatch. I didn't know if Ray gave Paul over legitimately or not, and I couldn't break Preston's heart by telling him he killed an innocent boy. I couldn't upset his friendship with Ray-it just would have hurt him too much. You know how the Atherton case has always driven me. I've always had to know who killed those kids."

"And you never found out."

De Spain shook his head. "No."

Ed said, "Get to the Englekling brothers."

Art picked up a poster: Preston backdropped by building grids. "I was visiting the Bureau. I know it was '53, right in there. I saw these pictures on the Ad Vice board. Nice-looking kids, like a stag-shot daisy chain. The design reminded me of the pictures Loren Atherton took, and I knew that just Preston and I and a few other officers had seen them. I tried to track down the pictures and didn't get anywhere. A while later I heard how the Englekling brothers gave that smut testimony for the Nite Owl investigation, but you didn't follow up on it. I figured they were a lead, but I couldn't fmd them. Late last year I got a tip that they were working at this printshop up near Frisco. I went up to talk to them. All I wanted was to find out who made that smut."

White's notes: God-awful torture. "Just to talk to them? I know what happened there."

Awful pride glaring. "They took it for a shakedown. It went bad. They had some old smut negatives, and I tried to get them to ID the people. They had some heroin and some antipsychotic drugs. They said they knew a sugar daddy who was going to push some horse blend that would set the world on fire, but they could do better. They laughed at me, called me 'pops.' I got this notion that they had to know who made that smut. I don't know… I know I went crazy. I think I thought they killed all those children. I think I thought they'd hurt Preston somehow. Eddie, they «laughed» at me. I figured they were dope pushers, I figured next to Preston they were nothing. And this old man took them both out."

He'd fretted the poster to shreds. "You killed two men for nothing."

"Not for nothing. For Preston. And I beg you not to tell him."

"Just another victim"-maybe the victim that justice lets slide.

"Eddie, he can't know. And he can't know that Paul Dieterling was innocent. Eddie, please."

Ed pushed him aside, walked through the house. His mother's tapestries made him think of Lynn. His old room made him think of Bud and Jack. The house felt filthy-bad money bought and paid for. He walked downstairs, saw his father in the doorway.

"Edmund?"

"I'm arresting you for the murder of Paul Dieterling. I'll be by in a few days to take you in."

The man did not budge an inch. "Paul Dieterling was a psychopathic killer who richly deserved the punishment I gave him."

"He was innocent. And it's Murder One either way." Not one flicker of remorse. Unbudging, unyielding, unflinching, intractable rectitude. "Edmund, you're quite disturbed at this moment."

Ed walked past him. His goodbye: "Goddamn you for the bad things you made me."

Downtown to the Dining Car: a bright place full of nice people. Gallaudet at the bar, sipping a martini. "Bad news on Dudley. You don't want to hear this."

"It can't be any worse than some other things I've heard today."

"Yeah? Well, Dudley's scot-free. Lana Turner's daughter just knifed Johnny Stompanato. D.O. fucking A. Fisk was staked out across the street and saw the meat wagon and the Beverly Hills P.D. take Johnny away. No Dudley witness, no Dudley evidence. Grand, lad."

Ed grabbed the martini, killed it. "Fuck Dudley sideways. I've got a shitload of Patchett's money for a bankroll, and I'll burn down that Irish cocksucker if it's the last fucking thing I ever do. Lad."

Gallaudet laughed. "May I make an observation, Inspector?"

"Sure."

"You sound more like Bud White every day."

CALENDAR

APRIL 1958

EXTRACT: L.A. «Times», April 12: