This is a work of fiction, using characters from the film, “LA Confidential". No insult or invasion of privacy or infringement of copyright is intended. The story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains adult language. The writer is not responsible for any "discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these situations.
Shadows
©2007 by: C4C
CHAPTER FIVE
The morning was dark, damp and dreary. The kind of morning that made Bud want to lie in bed all day and sleep. The heavy rain had become slow and steady drizzle that cast a pall all over the city.
He pulled up outside a row of ramshackle houses, finally finding the address Rocco had given him. As he walked to the door, he looked around. 'Shit,' he thought, 'these houses should be condemned.'
He knocked at the door a few times, finally growing impatient. He tried looking in the windows but they were too dirty. He walked around the back door and, hearing no one answer, turned to leave, deciding that if he came across Rocco again, he'd pound him into the ground, just for the fun of it.
"Who's there?" a woman's voice asked.
"My name's Bud White. I'm here to see Scarlet, Rocco sent me."
"Okay, the door's open now, come in."
He let himself into the kitchen. It was dingy but neat. The flowered curtains looked homemade and the small vase of flowers on the table seemed almost touching. He could hear someone moving around in one of the rooms.
"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be there in a sec."
After making sure they were alone, Bud walked over to the stained sink and looked out the window. Across the street, a couple of dogs were fighting over garbage. It all looked too familiar and he tried to ignore the twinge of sadness to his heart. He'd played alone in many places as a child before his mother.
"Hello."
Her voice broke into his thoughts. He turned around to face her, not really prepared for what he found. She was standing in the doorway, a tiny bit of a girl, clutching a shabby old terry cloth robe around her body.
'Jesus, she's just a kid,' he thought.
"I'm Scarlet," she said, her voice thin and soft, "Rocco said you'd be coming. She tried to give him a big smile. "Would you like a drink first?"
"It's a little early for that, don't you think?"
"Well, some men like it before… you know."
"What?"
"It's ten dollars for straight and ten more for anything else, okay? And you have to pay up front."
Bud's jaw clenched as she reached for the lapels of his raincoat.
"Why don't you take this off and relax?"
He took her hands and pushed them firmly to her sides, taking a step back. He pulled his badge out of his pocket.
"I'm Lt. White," he stated, "with the L.A.P.D. Rocco said you might have information that might help with a case we're working on."
Scarlet lowered her eyes and backed away, nervously. "I-I'm sorry…"
He pointed to a couple of mismatched chairs around the table. "Let's sit down."
Seated across from her, he saw that any shred of confidence she had tried to muster was gone. Her hands were shaking as she lit a cigarette and averted her eyes. Looking at her, with her dark curly hair falling around her young face in that white robe he felt an instant empathy with her. She was trapped here and he remembered that feeling all too well.
"Okay, Miss--"
"Just call me Scarlet."
"Scarlet," he said, in his best gentle voice, "I'm sure you've heard about the string of missing girls, lately. Rocco said you could give me a tip as to who could be behind this."
He saw fear in her eyes.
"Look, anything you say will be in strictest confidence. No one will know, I promise."
"Where do you want me to start?"
"The beginning is always a good place. Take your time."
She swallowed and stubbed out her cigarette.
"I left home about two years ago. I was fourteen and my mom's boyfriend… he was on me every chance he got."
"Your mom just let him do that?"
"No. She caught him and tried to throw him out. But he wouldn't stay away."
Bud nodded, tersely. "Go on."
"So, I left. I met some people who were going to L.A. I figured it was as good a place as any to wind up. They let me stay with them for a while, but I didn't… didn't like their lifestyle so I was out on the street again. I was scared, I didn't know what to do--"
"That when you met Rocco?"
She nodded. "He was nice. He helped me get started."
"Yeah, he's a real humanitarian," Bud said, sarcastically.
She shrugged and lit another cigarette. "It could have been worse. At least he never hit me, as long as I did what he wanted. Anyway, he met some old guy who wanted to set up a stable and he took me to meet him." She inhaled the cigarette with shaking fingers.
"Where did he take you?"
“Some rinky dink bar. It was dark. There were other people there, other girls about my age."
"What did he look like," Bud asked, urgently, "did he give you a name?"
"He was… a big man. Tall and balding, a little. His voice was hard and sort of… gravelly. He talked to Rocco, mostly. When they were done he took me in the back room, and…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes misted over. “It was awful. He hurt me."
Bud's eyes narrowed. 'Shitty bastard,' he thought, his hands just itching for the moment he saw him.
"Okay," he said to Scarlet, softly, "just take it easy for a minute."
She put her head down and shuddered. Bud stood up and came around the table and covered her shaking hands with one of his, causing her to look up at him.
"We're gonna find this guy, Scarlet, I promise you that."
She nodded.
"Can you tell me anything more? Just any small thing?"
"All I can remember are his eyes. Cold, so gray and cold, like there was nothing there. And…" she paused, not sure whether to go on.
"What?"
"Rocco has a friend who might know more. His name's Steve, he works out of a strip joint on Melrose called The Velvet Glove. It was Steve who made me start carrying drugs. That's when I got really scared. Those guys play for keeps. Rocco helped me and set me up here."
"The old man never came after you?''
She shook her head. "I knew those girls who got killed. Was because of the drug thing. I was afraid I might be next."
Adrenaline shot through Bud's body. ''You think those girls are dead?"
She nodded.
"What did they do with the bodies?"
"I--I don't know," she said, her voice quavering and Bud knew it was time to back off.
"Christ on a fucking crutch," he muttered to himself. He dug into his pocket for his wallet.
"Look, I'll do everything I can to keep you out of this, okay? Here's my card. Call me if you think of anything else and I'll be in touch."
"Okay,” she said, sadly.
He pulled something else out of his wallet, two ten dollar bills and placed them on the table.
"Thanks, Lieutenant," she said, a little smile forming at the sides of her mouth. Bud nodded to her and left.
Lynn stood at the kitchen sink, sipping a very weak cup of tea, the only thing her stomach wasn't rejecting, these days.
The night before had put her mind to rest. He was okay. She wasn't sure what his Aunt wanted with him after all this time, but at least he had been honest with her about that. And even more, he had been honest with her about the baby. He had come a long way in being able to express his feelings to her. Those warm feelings kept welling in her heart like waves and allowed her, finally to bask in her joy of impending motherhood.
As for the Aunt, she gave an inner shrug. What could she want from Bud, after all this time? 'Oh, well,' she thought, 'whatever it was, they'd get through it. Lynn knew Bud, finally, inside and out and he knew her: they could finally get through anything. Together. Closing her eyes, she remembered...
They had gone out to dinner, that night, for the first time, back in those early, early days. Up until then, their "dates" had been confined to the sheets. But this time, Bud wanted to take her to dinner, and she was happy to go. In a move that would become more and more of a pattern, she had called Pierce to cancel her appointment for the evening. Pierce hadn't been pleased but she wanted the evening just to be about the two of them....
She met him at the door dressed in a black and white Polka Dot Halter dress that gathered into a sexy bust line and showed off her bare arms. Black sandals, no stockings. With her long blonde hair swept up into a simple pony tail, she looked exactly as she felt: like a normal woman, greeting her date. She drew him inside, and kissed him, but he quickly broke away.
"Oh, no," he said, "if we do that, we'll never get out of here."
She giggled as he grabbed her hand and led her to the car.
He took her to a steak house that was short on atmosphere but long on good food. He was quiet. She was animated and cheerful, trying to draw him out, as they ate.
"So, where are you from?" she had asked.
He answered, a far-away look in his eyes that intrigued her, "Texas. I grew up in Texas."
"And what brought you to California?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Must have been the orange groves."
She laughed. "You came a long way for a glass of orange juice." Leaning forward, she touched his hand with hers. "Was it worth it?"
"I don't think about it," he said, shortly. "Come on, let's get out of here."
She thought they were going straight home, instead, he surprised her and took a left turn off Sunset to Echo Park. He pulled the car up to the lake and shut the engine off.
"Want to take a walk?"
"No," she had said, softly, "I like it here."
She cupped his freshly-shaved face in her hand and he kissed her palm, gently. Lynn hoped they were in for some sweet petting as he planted a deep kiss on her shoulder.
"I've been waiting to do that all night," he said, huskily.
She started to reply but lost her capacity to talk as he moved down to her throat. She craned her head back, and that was when he pushed himself toward her a little too hard, a little too suddenly, and the small of her back had hit the door handle. She had cried out and Bud had frozen, simply frozen, she had never seen anybody change so fast. After making sure she was really okay, he pulled away and started the car.
He didn't say a word as they drove straight home. Not a word, despite her attempts to make light of it. Not a word, as he parked and escorted her to the door. And then, all he said was, "Night," and started to walk away.
"Bud, where are you going?"
"Home."
"Home? Honey, you’re being silly. I'm fine. Get in here, for God's sake!"
"No! Not tonight--" He started back to his car.
Now she was angry. "Fine! Go! Just don't bother coming back!"
'Oh, Jesus,' she had thought, biting her lip, wanting to take those words back the second they had escaped but it had been too late, Bud had heard them: had paused just slightly but still marched resolutely to the car. She slammed the door rather than watch him drive off....
Lynn smiled to herself. She hadn't had a clue, then. She remembered…
....sitting at the breakfast table, the following morning. She had tossed and turned all night, and finally gave up on sleeping in that damn, empty bed. Now, she was nursing a black cup of coffee that she couldn't taste, the same thoughts reverberating through her head: WHY? Why had he over-reacted the way he did? He hadn't meant to do it, she knew it. Maybe he had been just looking for an excuse to get away. But, why? If she'd just been a little more patient! Hadn't said what she had said? Would he have turned around...
Tried to convince herself to forget about him. The hell with him. He wasn't worth it!
Not being able to stand it anymore. Turned on the radio. Heard the mournful strings of "It's All In The Game."
And then, like a dream, she heard something else, in the background. A soft knocking at the front door. She WAS dreaming, she had thought, she really had better go back to bed and try and get some sleep...
Instead she went to the door and opened it. Bud was standing there, a forlorn and lost look in his eyes that instantly melted whatever false anger she had managed to dream up.
She heard him say, "I know I shouldn't be here. But I can't stay away."
"I never asked you to."
"Maybe you should have--"
"--oh, for God's sake, Bud, get in here. It's freezing out there."
This time he had stepped inside, no argument. And he WAS freezing. He was in his shirtsleeves, not even wearing his jacket. Taking his hand, she led him over to the couch and quickly draped a blanket over his shoulders, she could see the goose-bumps on his arms.
"Just stay there. I'll be right back."
He had nodded, silently, drawing the blanket around him. She was back, quickly, with a mug of steaming coffee which he accepted gratefully. She sat next to him while he took a couple of quick swallows.
"Thanks," he finally said, and put the cup back on the table.
"Are you warm enough?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
"Not quite yet." He spread the blanket open. "Come here."
With that, Lynn slid over, put her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. 'I'm back in heaven,' she remembered, thinking. He folded the both of them in the blanket and they fell asleep.
'Our first fight,' Lynn reflected, thinking again how much she would have to learn about this guy. Back then, it had all been one step forward, two steps back, but it had all been worth it, so very worth it.
~*~
Ed was enjoying his new secretary's enthusiasm and efficiency with each passing hour. She had made some calls for him, and had run interference with the D.A. with remarkable skill. Finally, he decided to spend a little time and fill her in on the case so that she could assist him even more, but he learned that she had not only been reading the papers, she had secured information from other sources.
"How'd you get so interested in all of this?" he had asked her.
"I like to play detective," she said. "It's my hobby."
"Your hobby?"
"Yes. I read the newspapers, you know."
"But how'd you learn so much about the case? Things that weren't in the newspaper?"
She looked a little embarrassed, fingering the folder she was holding.
"I know a guy at the Times. He's an old family friend. I just pulled a few strings, that's all."
"Strings, eh? Where are you from, originally? Not L.A.?"
"No, New York, born and raised, she answered, tossing her head with a hint of pride.
"And what brought you here?"
"Oh, I had my reasons. I've always been interested in police work, I thought I'd have more of a chance here, than back east. Unfortunately, " she said, clearly frustrated, "the powers that be don't seem to think women are fit for duty."
"Huh," Ed said. "That's a strange dream for a girl to have."
He saw a twinge of annoyance in her eyes but before he could apologize, she said, "Not for me. My dad was a beat cop. I wanted to be like him. But this was as far as I could get."
The phone rang. It was Bud.
"Exley, I'm at the Velvet Glove. You better get down here."
The bodies were in the back office where two men lay in a bloody heap in the middle of the room. Ed knelt to search the one nearest him while Bud looked around.
"Lieutenant," one of the men called to Bud, ''got an I.D., here. Name's Steve Garcia."
'Shit,' Bud thought to himself, 'shit, shit, shit!'
Ed saw his face. "This the guy you were looking for?"
"Yeah," Bud growled. "Shit!"
"Can't find anything on the other one, Officer. No wallet, no nothing."
Bud walked over to the body, instantly recognized the tattoo on the deceased's arm.
"That's Rocco. Damnit!" He looked at Ed. "Back to fucking square one."
They stayed on the scene until the bodies were removed. A crowd had gathered and Bud dispatched a few officers to keep them at a safe distance. Every once in a while he would glance at some of the onlookers with barely concealed disgust.
But, as he and Ed headed back to the station, Bud missed the figure of one particular onlooker who was hidden in a doorway across the street, nor did he see or feel the steely gray eyes focusing only on him as their car disappeared into traffic.
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