L.A. Confidential Read Free Page A

gentlemen, every nickel out of every dollar spent at Paul's World will go to the Children's Polio Foundation."
      Wild applause. Preston nodded at Timmy Valburn--the actor who played Moochie Mouse on the _Dream-a-Dream Hour_--always nibbling cheese with his big buck teeth. Valburn nudged the man beside him; the man nudged back.
      Art De Spain caught Ed's eye; Valburn kicked off a Moochie routine. Ed steered De Spain to the hallway. "This is a hell of a surprise, Art."
      "Dieterling's announcing it on the _Dream Hour_. Didn't your dad tell you?"
      "No, and I didn't know he knew Dieterling. Did he meet him back during the Atherton case? Wasn't Wee Willie Wennerhoim one of Dieterling's kid stars?"
      De Spain smiled. "I was your dad's lowly adjutant then, and I don't think the two great men ever crossed paths. Preston just knows people. And by the way, did you spot the mouse man and his pal?"
      Ed nodded. "Who is he?"
      Laughter from the den; De Spain steered Ed to the study. "He's Billy Dieterling, Ray's son. He's a cameraman on _Badge of Honor_, which lauds our beloved LAPD to millions of television viewers each week. Maybe Timmy spreads some cheese on his whatsis before he blows him."
      Ed laughed. "Art, you're a pisser."
      De Spain sprawled in a chair. "Eddie, ex-cop to cop, you say words like 'pisser' and you sound like a college professor. And you're not really an 'Eddie,' you're an 'Edmund."'
      Ed squared his glasses. "I see avuncular advice coming. Stick in Patrol, because Parker made chief that way. Adniinistrate my way up because I have no command presence."
      "You've got no sense of humor. And can't you get rid of those specs? Squint or something. Outside of Thad Green, I can't think of one Bureau guy who wears glasses."
      "God, you miss the Department. I think that if you could give up Exley Construction and fifty thousand a year for a spot as an LAPD rookie, you would."
      De Spain lit a cigar. "Only if your dad came with me."
      "Just like that?"
      "Just like that. I was a lieutenant to Preston's inspector, and I'm still a number two man. It'd be nice to be even with him."
      "If you didn't know lumber, Exley Construction wouldn't exist."
      "Thanks. And get rid of those glasses."
      Ed picked up a framed photo: his brother Thomas in uniform--taken the day before he died. "If you were a rookie, I'd break you for insubordination."
      "You would, too. What did you place on the lieutenant's exam?"
      "First out of twenty-three applicants. I was the youngest applicant by eight years, with the shortest time in grade as a sergeant and the shortest amount of time on the Department."
      "And you want the Detective Bureau."
      Ed put the photo down. "Yes."
      "Then, first you have to figure a year minimum for an opening to come up, then you have to realize that it will probably be a Patrol opening, then you have to realize that a transfer to the Bureau will take years and lots of ass kissing. You're twenty-nine now?"
      "Yes."
      "Then you'll be a lieutenant at thirty or thirty-one. Brass that young create resentment. Ed, all kidding aside. You're not one of the guys. You're not a strongarm type. _You're not Bureau_. And Parker as Chief has set a precedent for Patrol officers to go all the way. Think about that."
      Ed said, "Art, I want to work cases. I'm connected and I won the Distinguished Service Cross, which some people might construe as strongarm. And I will _have_ a Bureau appointment."
      De Spain brushed ash off his cummerbund. "Can we talk turkey, Sunny Jim?"
      The endearment rankled. "Of course."
      "Well . . . you're good, and in time you might be really good. And I don't doubt your killer instinct for a second. But your father was ruthless and likable. And you're not, so . .
      Ed made fists. "So, Uncle Arthur? Cop who left the Department for money to cop who never would--what's your advice?"
      De Spain ifinched. "So be a sycophant and suck up to the right men. Kiss