Danny sat down; Claire stubbed out her cigarette and sparked another one. The lights were dimmed; the music started—a slow, romantic ballad. Danny tried the beating time maneuver, but Claire’s hand wouldn’t move. Her eyes were darting around the room; he saw the exit door across from them open up, spotlighting Carlton W. Jeffries, the grasshopper he’d strong-armed for a snitch on H pushers. The doorway cast a strip of light all the way over to Claire De Haven making with rabbity eyes, a rich white girl with a snout for lowlife afraid that more embarrassment might ruin her date with an undercover cop out to get her indicted for treason. The door closed; Danny felt her fear jump on him and turn the nice, dark, safe place bad, full of crazy jungle niggers who’d eat him whole, revenging all the niggers he’d pushed around. He said, “Claire, let’s leave, okay?”
Claire said, “Yes, let’s.”
The ride back was all Claire with the jitters, rambling on what she’d accomplished with what organizations—a litany that sounded harmless and probably contained not one shred of information that Considine and Loew would find interesting. Danny let it wash over him, thinking of his meeting, wondering what Leo Bordoni told Gene Niles, if Niles really had a County source to place him inside 2307, and if he could prove it, would anybody care? Should he grease Karen Hiltscher on general principles, her being the only real snitch possibility, even though her even knowing Niles was unlikely? And how should he lay off the blame for the fight? How to make Considine think his future exec beating up one of his own men was kosher, when that man might just have him by the balls?
Danny turned onto Claire’s block, thinking of good exit lines; slowing down and stopping, he had two at the ready. He smiled and prepared to perform; Claire touched his cheek, softer than the first time. “I’m sorry, Teddy. It was a lousy first date. Rain check?”
Danny said, “Sure,” going all warm, the catch again.
“Tomorrow night, here? Just us, strategy and whatever the spirit moves us to?”
Her hand had reversed itself, knuckles lightly tracing his jawline. “Sure… darling.”
She stopped then, eyes shut, lips parted. Danny moved into the kiss, wanting the soft hand, not the hungry mouth painted pinkish red. Just as they touched, he froze and almost pulled away. Claire’s tongue slid across his teeth, probing. He thought of Reynolds Loftis, gave the woman his face and did it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mal was watching Buzz Meeks eat, thinking that suicide love must be good for the appetite: the fat man had devoured a plate of stuffed shrimp, two double-thick pork chops with onion rings, and was now killing a huge piece of peach pie buried in ice cream. It was their second meal together, with INS file work and his run by Jake Kellerman’s office in between; at lunch Meeks had wolfed a porterhouse, home fries and three orders of rice pudding. Mal picked at a plate of chicken salad and shook his head; Meeks said, “A growin’ boy’s got to feed. What time’s Upshaw due?”
Mal checked his watch. “I told him midnight. Why, do you have plans?”
“A late one with my sweetie. Howard’s usin’ his spot up by the Bowl, so we’re meetin’ at her place. I told her I’d be there by one at the latest, and I mean to be punctual.”
“Meeks, are you taking precautions?”
Buzz said, “We use the rhythm method. Her place when Howard’s rhythm moves us.” He dug in his coat pockets and fished out an envelope. “I forgot to tell you. When you were at your lawyer’s, Ellis came by. I gave him your memo, and he read it and wrote you one. Apparently, your boy traded blows with some LAPD dick. Ellis said to read this and abide by it.”
Mal opened the envelope and pulled out a slip of paper covered with Ellis Loew’s handwriting. He read:
M.C.—
I agree wholeheartedly with everything but your assessment of Dudley’s methods. What you don’t realize is that Dudley is so effective that his methods minimize the chance that potential witness will balk and inform on us to UAES. Also, I can’t give you command of the investigation, not with the obvious dislike that exists between you and Dudley. It would ruffle the feathers of a man who up until yesterday shared your rank with many more years in grade. You’re equals in this investigation, and once we go to court you’ll never have to work with him again.
Something has come up on Deputy Upshaw. A Sgt. Breuning (LAPD) called to tell me that Upshaw got into a fistfight with another City officer (Sgt. G. Niles) this afternoon, over a stupid remark Niles made about “queers.” This is, in light of the interagency command we set up for Upshaw, intolerable. Breuning also stated that Upshaw demanded four officers for surveillance work, and that Dudley, wanting to keep him happy, found the men. This is also intolerable. Upshaw is a young, inexperienced officer who, however gifted, has no right to be making such demands. I want you to sternly inform him that we will tolerate no more fisticuffs or prima donna behavior.
Sgt. Bowman is now looking for Dr. Lesnick. I hope he didn’t die on us, too—he’s a valuable addition to our team.
P.S.—Good luck in court tomorrow. Your promotion and current duties should help you secure a continuance. I think Jake Kellerman’s strategy is sound.
Mal wadded the paper up and hurled it blindly; it bounced off the back of the booth and landed on Meeks’ butter plate. Buzz said, “Whoa, partner”; Mal looked up and saw Danny Upshaw hovering. He said, “Sit down, Deputy,” ticked until he noticed the kid’s hands were shaking.
Danny slid into the booth next to Meeks. Buzz said, “Turner Meeks” and gave him a shake; Danny nodded and turned to Mal. “Congratulations, Captain. And thanks for the jug.”
Mal eyed his decoy, thinking that right now he looked not one iota cop. “Thank you, and my pleasure. And before we get to business, what happened with Sergeant Niles?”
Danny gripped an empty water glass. “He’s got a crazy idea I B&E’d the place where the second and third victims were found. Essentially, he’s miffed at taking orders from me. Jack Shortell told me the watch commander yanked him off the case, so I’m glad he’s out of my hair.”
The answer sounded rehearsed. Mal said, “That’s all of it?”
“Yes.”
“And did you B&E?”
“No, of course not.”
Mal thought of the “queer” remark, but let it pass. “All right, then consider this a reprimand, from Ellis Loew and myself. No more of that, period. Don’t let it happen again. Got that?”
Danny raised the glass, looking chagrined when he found it empty. “Yes, Captain.”
“It’s still ‘Mal.’ Do you want something to eat?”
“No thanks.”
“A drink?”
Danny pushed the glass away. “No.”
Buzz said, “Save your dukes for the Police Golden Gloves. I knew a guy made Sergeant beatin’ up on guys his CO hated.”
Danny laughed; Mal wished that he’d order a shot for his nerves. “Tell me about the approach. Have you met with De Haven?”
“Yeah, twice.”
“And?”
“And she’s making a play for me.”
His operative was actually blushing. Mal said, “Tell me about it.”
“There’s not much to tell yet. We had a date tonight, we’ve got another one set for tomorrow night. I listened outside her house while a meeting was going on, and I picked up some stuff. Pretty vague, but enough to tell me that they have some kind of extortion angle going against the studios and they’re planning to time it with the Teamsters going crazy on the picket line. So tell Mickey to keep his guys in check. I could tell this angle is important to their strategy, and when I see De Haven tomorrow, I’m going to press her for details.”