L.A. Confidential Read Free Page B

William H. Parker's ass and pray to be in the right place at the right time."
      "Like you and my father?"
      "_Touché_, Sunny Jim."
      Ed looked at his uniform: custom blues on a hanger. Razorcreased, sergeant's stripes, a single hashmark. De Spain said, "Gold bars soon, Eddie. And braid on your cap. And I wouldn't jerk your chain if I didn't care."
      "I know."
      "And you _are_ a goddamned war hero."
      Ed changed the subject. "It's Christmas. You're thinking about Thomas."
      "I keep thinking I could have told him something. He didn't even have his holster flap open."
      "A purse snatcher with a gun? He couldn't have known." De Spain put out his cigar. "Thomas was a natural, and I always thought he should be telling me things. That's why I tend to spell things out for you."
      "He's twelve years dead and I'll bury him as a policeman."
      "I'll forget you said that."
      "No, remember it. Remember it when I make the Bureau. And when Father offers toasts to Thomas and Mother, don't get maudlin, it ruins him for days."
      De Spain stood up, flushing; Preston Exley walked in with snifters and a bottle.
      Ed said, "Merry Christmas, Father. And congratulations."
      Preston poured drinks. "Thank you. Exley Construction tops the Arroyo Seco Freeway job with a kingdom for a glorified rodent, and I'll never eat another piece of cheese. A toast, gentlemen. To the eternal rest of my son Thomas and my wife Marguerite, to the three of us assembled here."
      The men drank; De Spain fixed refills. Ed offered his father's favorite toast: "To the solving of crimes that require absolute justice."
      Three more shots downed. Ed said, "Father, I didn't know you knew Raymond Dieterling."
      Preston smiled. "I've known him in a business sense for years. Art and I have kept the contract secret at Raymond's request--he wants to announce it on that infantile television program of his."
      "Did you meet him during the Atherton case?"
      "No, and of course I wasn't in the construction business then. Arthur, do you have a toast to propose?"
      De Spain poured short ones. "To a Bureau assignment for our soon-to-be lieutenant."
      Laughter, hear-hears. Preston said, "Joan Morrow was inquiring about your love life, Edmund. I think she's smitten."
      "Do you see a debutante as a cop's wife?"
      "No, but I could picture her married to a ranking policeman."
      "Chief of Detectives?"
      "No, I was thinking more along the lines of commander of the Patrol Division."
      "Father, Thomas was going to be your chief of detectives, but he's dead. Don't deny me my opportunity. Don't make me live an old dream of yours."
      Preston stared at his son. "Point taken, and I commend you for speaking up. And granted, that was my original dream. But the truth is that I don't think you have the eye for human weakness that makes a good detective."
      His brother: a math brain crazed for pretty girls. "And Thomas did?"
      "Yes."
      "Father, I would have shot that purse snatcher the second he went for his pocket."
      De Spain said, "Goddammit"; Preston shushed him. "That's all right. Edmund, a few questions before I return to my guests. One, would you be willing to plant corroborative evidence on a suspect you knew was guilty in order to ensure an indictment?"
      "I'd have to--"
      "Answer yes or no."
      "I . . . no."
      "Would you be willing to shoot hardened armed robbers in the back to offset the chance that they might utilize flaws in the legal system and go free?"
      "I . . ."
      "Yes or no, Edmund."
      "No."
      "And would you be willing to beat confessions out of suspects you knew to be guilty?"
      "No."
      "Would you be willing to rig crime scene evidence to support a prosecuting attorney's working hypothesis?"
      "No."
      Preston sighed. "Then for God's sake, stick to assignments where you won't have to make those choices. Use the superior inteffigence the good Lord gave you."
      Ed looked at his uniform. "I'll use that