L.A. Confidential Read Online Free

intelligence as a detective."
      Preston smiled. "Detective or not, you have qualities of persistence that Thomas lacked. You'll excel, my war hero."
      The phone rang; De Spain picked it up. Ed thought of rigged Jap trenches--and couldn't meet Preston's eyes. Dc Spain said, "It's Lieutenant Frieling at the station. He said the jail's almost full, and two officers were assaulted earlier in the evening. Two suspects are in custody, with four more outstanding. He said you should clock in early."
      Ed turned back to his father. Preston was down the hall, swapping jokes with Mayor Bowron in a Moochie Mouse hat.

    CHAPTER THREE

      Press clippings on his corkboard: "Dope Crusader Wounded in Shootout"; "Actor Mitchum Seized in Marijuana Shack Raid." _Hush-Hush_ articles, framed on his desk: "Hopheads Quake When Dope Scourge Cop Walks Tall"; "Actors Agree: _Badge of Honor_ Owes Authenticity to Hard-hitting Technical Advisor." The _Badge_ piece featured a photo: Sergeant Jack Vincennes with the show's star, Brett Chase. The piece did not feature dirt from the editor's private file: Brett Chase as a pedophile with three quashed sodomy beefs.
      Jack Vincennes glanced around the Narco pen--deserted, dark--just the light in his cubicle. Ten minutes short of midnight; he'd prpmised Dudley Smith he'd type up an organized crime report for Intelligence Division; he'd promised Lieutenant Frieling a case of booze for the station party--Hush-Hush Sid Hudgens was supposed to come across with rum but hadn't called. Dudley's report: a favor shot his way because he typed a hundred words a minute; a favor returned tomorrow: a meet with Dud and Ellis Loew, Pacific Dining Car lunch--work on the line, work to earn him juice with the D.A.'s Office. Jack lit a cigarette, read.
      Some report: eleven pages long, very verbal, very Dudley. The topic: L.A. mob activity with Mickey Cohen in stir. Jack edited, typed.
      Cohen was at McNeil Island Federal Prison: three to seven, income tax evasion. Davey Goldman, Mickey's money man, was there: three to seven, down on six counts of federal tax fraud. Smith predicted possible skirmishing between Cohen minion Morris Jahelka and Jack "The Enforcer" Whalen; with Mafia overlord Jack Dragna deported, they loomed as the two men most likely to control loansharking, bookmaking, prostitution and the race wire racket. Smith stated that Jahelka was too ineffectual to require police surveillance; that John Stompanato and Abe Teitlebaum, key Cohen strongarms, seemed to have gone legitimate. Lee Vachss, contract trigger employed by Cohen, was working a religious racket--selling patent medicines guaranteed to induce mystical experiences.
      Jack kept typing. Dud's take hit wrong: Johnny Stomp and Kikey Teitlebaum were pure bent--they could never go pure straight. He fed in a fresh sheet.
      A new topic: the February '50 Cohen/Dragna truce meeting-- twenty-five pounds of heroin and a hundred and fifty grand allegedly stolen. Jack heard rumors: an ex-cop named Buzz Meeks heisted the summit, took off and was gunned down near San Bernardino--Cohen goons and rogue L.A. cops killed him, a Mickey contract: Meeks stole the Mick blind and fucked his woman. The horse was supposedly long gone unfound. Dudley's theory: Meeks buried the money and shit someplace unknown and was later killed by "person or persons unknown"--probably a Cohen gunman. Jack smiled: if LAPD was in on a Meeks hit, Dud would never implicate the Department--even in an interdepartmental report.
      Next, Smith's summary: with Mickey C. gone, mob action was at a lull; the LAPD should stay alert for new faces looking to crash Cohen's old rackets; prostitution was sticking over the county line--with Sheriff's Department sanction. Jack signed the last page "Respectfully, Lieutenant D. L. Smith."
      The phone rang. "Narcotics, Vincennes."
      "It's me. You hungry?"
      Jack kiboshed a temper fit--easy--what Hudgens just might have on him. "Sid, you're late. And