by
Fandom: LA Quartet
Rating: PG
Author's Note: A sequel to "Junior". Once again Ellroy's characters grabbed me and would not let go. Writing this story was my way of working through some ideas about Danny Upshaw and Ed Exley.
Disclaimer: The LA Quartet of novels was created by James Ellroy. This is a not for profit work of fan-fiction written by the author as a means of exploring and commenting on the themes and characters of the novels. I claim fair use and nothing else.
The phone call came as something of a surprise. Not that the call was made, but that it came about three weeks after Danny Upshaw expected to get it.
"Yes, I understand my fingerprints were found at Officer Stemmons's place. I'm not a suspect? Yeah, I guess his grave's as good a place as any. Three o'clock tomorrow, then. See you there, Chief Exley."
Danny put the phone down with nerveless fingers, opened the left drawer of his desk, poured himself a double scotch and bolted it. Absentmindedly fingering the ridged scar at the edge of his neck, he thought about putting the barrel of his revolver in his mouth and blowing his brains into a pink spatter all over the back wall of his office. Perhaps the gun would work where the knife had failed.
On the other hand, if Chief Exley wanted to ruin him, wouldn't he have barged into the office, tame press hounds in tow and made a very public arrest all in the name of rooting out corruption? Danny eased back in his chair — the chair he had worked for the past seven years to climb back into — and played the options in his head.
A fifth of scotch sent him into oblivion that night.
The afternoon sun sent daggers of light into Danny's eyes, causing the remnants of his hangover headache to throb with renewed purpose. Exley had beaten him to the grave. Danny studied him as he walked over. Medium height, medium build. Blonde hair gone prematurely grey, severe charcoal suit. Blue eyes cold behind rimless glasses. Exley got to the point without preamble, "Your fingerprints were found in Junior Stemmons's apartment. In the bedroom."
Danny crossed his arms and met Exley's snake eyes with a level brown stare of his own. He saw Exley sizing him up, saw Exley see him size him up. "Yeah?"
The wind ruffled the winter bleached grass, or perhaps the noise was that of distant cars from the highway. Finally Danny said, "Early in my career, Chief Exley, I learned two very hard lessons. Don't trust anybody, and never volunteer information. If you want details, you'll have to ask some direct questions."
Exley nodded and said, "You and Stemmons were lovers."
"No. I never loved him ... but I fucked him, if that's what you're getting at."
Exley snorted, clearly amused by the answer. "A refreshingly blunt answer, Deputy. Most men would've come out here pissing their pants with fear, or falling all over themselves trying how to figure out to kiss my ass. You've done neither."
"I'm not most men."
"Touché."
Danny walked around a tombstone, idly kicking a tuft of dead grass. "Can I ask you something, Chief Exley?"
"Sure."
Danny fixed him with a direct gaze and said, "How did Junior really die?"
"Heart attack while —"
"Oh, don't feed me that fucking bullshit!" Danny snapped, temper getting the better of him. "I know that in your eyes, I'm nothing but a lowly Sheriff Department Deputy Detective and a queer, but I know a goddamned cover story when I read it."
"Hot shot."
"I'm not surprised," Danny said a little wistfully. "He was into something really deep at the end. Klein?"
Exley goggled.
"Junior talked shop the last time I saw him." Danny said. When no reply was immediately forthcoming, he gazed at the distant hills, their winter brown relieved only by the green of the eucalyptis trees. After several moments of silence he looked at his watch and asked, "Is that all there is, Chief Exley?"
"No. I pulled some strings and had a look at your IAD file."
Shivers up and down his spine, snap snap snap in his head. Cotton mouthed, Danny slowly turned. "Did you, now?"
Exley said, "Not many have crossed the big bad wolf and lived to tell the tale ... lad."
Danny, knees turning to jello, leaned against Junior's grave stone and said nothing.
"Want to fill me in?"
"Like I said before, you'll have to ask specific questions, Chief Exley."
"Okay. Your attempted suicide and the questioning. They tie to Dudley Smith. How?"
Danny took a deep breath and kicked a tuft of grass still stubbornly green at the roots. "I threw some punches at an LAPD officer named Gene Niles who later turned up dead in a canyon. Circumstances made me a suspect. I was going to be questioned for that. Related to the murder case I was working, Smith made me for a queer and was going to be present at the questioning to ensure that I was asked some very blunt questions while penotholed. My apartment had been tossed, and files relating to the murders I was working were stolen. My career was over. I was fucked, pure and simple. I tried to kill myself."
"Dudley Smith was a ruthless bastard, but he never did anything without a plan." Exley paused for a moment to let that sink in. "What did you have on him?"
"Murder. Related to my investigations, I could produce testimony showing that the Sleepy Lagoon boys were framed by Smith to cover a murder of his."
Exley was intrigued, "Continue."
"Not much more to say. I fucked up slitting my throat, damn near bled to death. After a few days in the hospital, I spent a week in the county psych ward and then another month of adminstrative leave. Mal Considine and Buzz Meeks broke my murder case — which tied into that DA's investigation about communist infiltration of the UAES — but in the process Consadine was killed, as was Coleman Healey, the guy who tied it all together. Smith was off the hook now, because all of this left not a single shred of evidence pointing at him. Forensics showed that the bullets that killed Gene Niles came from Buzz Meeks's pistol, so I was cleared of that. When I was recovered enough to be questioned about the case, I ended up blabbling about a B & E to gather some evidence on LAPD turf and was busted back down to patrol. I've been jumped a couple of times since then and had a few pot-shots taken at me. I suspect Smith, but I've got no way of proving that."
Exley chuckled darkly and said, "Dudley Smith was very good at tying up loose ends. You were lucky to get away."
Remembering something Junior said before he died, Danny asked, "I heard about what happened to Smith. Accident or planned?"
Exley gave a shark smile, "You are very good, Deputy. Let's just say it was a planned happy accident. He's not dead, but half-dead is satisfying enough." He paused for a beat and continued, "And not a single shred of evidence pointing back to me."
Except now, with this confession, Danny thought. He probably ought to feel afraid, but overiding that, he had to know why. "You've sat on those fingerprints for weeks. What prompted this meeting?"
"A few days ago, I had a photo op with Dudley Smith. As they were wheeling him back, he happened to mention your name in the midst of one of his tirades. I put two and two together. I wanted to meet the one of the few who got away from him."
In a flat voice, thinking of the kind of man you had to be to beat Smith at his game, thinking of loose ends tied up, Danny asked, "So, when can I expect to see myself smeared in Hush-Hush?"
"Oh, please," Exley said, pure patrician, "I would never go to a rag like that. Look, there's my politics and my personally held beliefs, and seldom do the two ever meet. You're small fry. Really, what can I gain from smearing your name except for a little cheap press, and I have some much more deserving candidates in mind for that. I doubt we'll ever meet again, except on the most superficial levels. So as long as you don't cross me, Deputy Upshaw, you're perfectly safe."
With a wry smile Danny extended his hand, "I doubt I'll ever hear such blunt honesty from a politician again."
Exley took it, grip firm, "Same here, Deputy." He looked at his watch, sighed, and turned away.
Danny leaned against Junior's grave stone and watched him depart. Smith was out of the picture, Stemmons was dead, and so long as he was careful, Exley wouldn't out him as a queer. He supposed he should feel relieved. But he didn't feel that.
He felt numb.
He needed a drink.
Last Updated: 3/11/2004