BECAUSE THE NIGHT

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“Let me out and give me my jacket and gun,” Lloyd said. The captain shook his head a last time, then slid a key into the cage door and swung it open. He took a handcuff key from his pocket and unlocked Lloyd’s cuffs. Lloyd rubbed his wrists and took his coat and gun out of the captain’s hands, realizing that the man was at least a half dozen years his junior. “Yeah, I fucked up,” he said.

“Nice to hear the legendary Lloyd Hopkins admit to fallibility,” the captain said. “Why didn’t you notify the head of our detective squad of your stakeout? He would have given you a backup officer.”

“It happened too fast. I was going to wait for the suspect outside by his car. I would have called for one of your units to assist me, but he made me for a cop and freaked out.”

“What are you, six-four? Two-twenty-five? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you do for a living.”

“Yeah? Your own officers couldn’t figure it out too well.”

The captain flushed. “Officer Burnside will apologize to you.”

Lloyd said, “Goody. In the meantime a stone psychopathic killer drives out of Beverly Hills a free man. An A.P.B. and a vehicle detain order might have gotten him.”

“Don’t try my patience, Hopkins. Just be grateful that no one at Bruno’s was hurt. If you had been responsible for the injury or death of a constituent of mine, I would have crucified you. As it stands, I’ll let your own Department deal with you.”

Lloyd’s vision pulsed with red. He shut his eyes to keep the throbbing localized and said, “Do you want to hear the whole story?”

“No. I want a complete report, in triplicate. Go upstairs and find a desk and write it now. I’ve informed your superiors at Robbery/Homicide. You are to report to the Chief of Detectives tomorrow morning at ten. Good night, Sergeant.”

Fuming, Lloyd watched the captain walk away. He gave himself ten minutes to cool down, then took an elevator to the third-floor vehicle registration office. A night clerk gave him a yellow legal pad and a pen, and over the next two hours he block printed three reports detailing the events at Bruno’s and summarizing his investigations into the liquor store homicides and the disappearance of Officer Jack Herzog, copying over his unsubmitted memo to the chief of detectives verbatim in hopes that it would be construed as an effort at “team play.” When he finished, he left the pages with the night desk officer and headed for the parking lot. He was almost out the 286

L.A. NOIR

door when an intercom voice jerked him back in. “Urgent call for Sergeant Hopkins. Paging Sergeant Hopkins.”

Lloyd walked to the night desk and picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“It’s Dutch, Lloyd. What happened?”

“Lots of shit. Who told you?”

“Thad Braverton. You’re supposed to see him tomorrow.”

“I know. Is he pissed?”

“Depends on what you have to say. What happened?”

Lloyd laughed through his anger and fatigue. “You won’t believe what happened. The same guy did the liquor store job and killed Jack Herzog. I’m sure of it. He fired on me with his liquor store piece. We did our best to destroy a Beverly Hills singles bar. It was wild.”

Dutch shouted, “What!”

“Tomorrow, partner. I’ll call you after I talk to Braverton.”

Dutch’s voice was soft. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Lloyd’s was softer. “Yeah, on a popsicle stick. You got any good news for me? I could use some.”

Dutch said, “Two items. One, I checked around on that weird name you asked about. Doctor John the Night Tripper. He was a rock bimbo from years ago, and it’s also the nickname of a psychiatrist who does lots of counseling of hookers and court-referred criminal types. He’s very well respected. His real name is John Havilland and his office is in Century City. Two, you’re in good shape with I.A.D. I called Fred Gaffaney this morning and reported Herzog missing. I took the grief, which consisted of Gaffaney screaming ‘fuck’ a few times.”

Lloyd memorized the first item and laughed at the second. “Good work, partner. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Dutch laughed back. “Stay alive, kid.”

Lloyd hung up and walked out into the parking lot, threading his way through a maze of erratically parked black-and-whites and unmarked cruisers. When he got to the sidewalk he saw Officer Burnside striding toward him. Burnside snickered as he passed, and Lloyd halted and tapped him on the shoulder. “You got something to say to me?”

Burnside turned and said, “Yeah. Ain’t you a little old to be hotdogging outside your jurisdiction?”

Lloyd smiled and drove a short right hand into Burnside’s midsection. Burnside gasped and doubled over. Lloyd propped up his chin with his left hand, then swung a full force right at the bridge of his nose, feeling it crack