Read Hollywood Hills Online

Authors: Joseph Wambaugh

Hollywood Hills (46 page)

Flotsam said, "Dude, I talked to the captain, and you don't have to worry about only working the desk when you come back. You'll be working in the field with me just like always."

"With one foot? They might as well retire me," Jetsam said.

"I been talking to people," Flotsam said. "LAPD once had a cop with one hand. He got it blown off by a bomb. He got a cool prosthesis. The gangsters started calling him Captain Hook. He was, like, kinda famous after that. And we had some coppers that got an eye shot out. They stayed on the Job and did good work."

"A cop's gotta be able to walk, bro. A cop's gotta be able t
o r
un

"You'll walk. You'll run. I been talking to people about the kind of prosthetic foot they can give you. It's gonna be better than your old foot, dude. You'll be good to go. You'll see."

"My foot, it hurts bad sometimes, but it ain't there. They call it phantom pain."

"I know," Flotsam said.

"I wouldn't mind so much but ... but I'm a surfer."

"You're a great surfer," Flotsam said. "You're way better than me, dude. You're way better than I ever could be. Why, I seen you do chocka backsides that nobody at Malibu could do. You're a crusher. Nothing can stop you."

"I don't wanna lay on the beach like a stranded seal and just watch," Jetsam said. "I wouldn't wanna do that."

"That ain't gonna happen," Flotsam said. "Sure, maybe at first we gotta take it easy. I'm gonna take you to Malibu every day if you wanna go, and we'll let the ocean heal you. The ocean is a great healer. And soon as you're ready, we're gonna get you that new foot. They can make you a prothesis that'll grip that board like Elmer's Glue."

"What'll I do at the beach till it heals, bro?"

"We'll bodysurf or boogie board."

"I ain't no booger, bro. Can you see me, like, sponging-in on a real kahuna and getting in his way like some snarky squid?"

"Dude, the boogie board would be temporary till we heal," Flotsam said. "Till we get our new foot."

"I guess the Wedgie Bandit's safe now, bro," Jetsam said.

Flotsam said, "Trust me. Real soon it's gonna be us two kahunas ripping like always. And we'll get that Wedgie Bandit, you and me. Don't cry, dude."

"You'e the one that's crying, bro," Jetsam said. "In case you didn't notice."

Hollywood Nate turned then and walked back down the corridor past the nurse's station, heading for the exit.

The floor nurse said, "Aren't you going in?"

"Not today," said Hollywood Nate. "Not today."

Chapter
Twenty-Eight.

THE SECOND YEAR of the Obamapresidency saw big changes at the Los Angeles Police Department. The Eastern chief had resigned and moved back to New York to take a top job with the private security firm that had been overseeing the federal consent decree under which the LAPD had suffered for so many years. Some said that his connection to that security firm had been a conflict of interests, but the fact was, he was gone for good.

The new chief was not an outsider, far from it. He was second-generation LAPD. His father had been a deputy chief. His son and daughter were both LAPD officers, and his wife was retired from the L
. A
. Sheriff's Department. Even his sister was a retired cop. They didn't come more insider than this one. He inherited the tough job of being chief in the great recession that had just about bankrupted the state of California, and the city of Los Angeles right along with it. There had to be lots of maneuvering of personnel, including sending a large number of officers from the elite Metropolitan Division back to patrol.

But there was at least one officer going from patrol back to Metro. One quiet evening on patrol, Snuffy Salcedo said to Hollywood Nate, "I went downtown and talked to a few people and I'm gonna be taken back as a security aide to the new chief."

"Is it my deodorant?" Nate said. "What brought this about?"

"Don't get me wrong, partner," Snuffy said. "I've really enjoyed working here at Hollywood Station, and it hasn't been too awful having you as a partner."

"I'll put that in my diary," Nate said.

Snuffy said, "But I think for the next few years, till I pull the pin and say adios, I should take it easy. And the new chief ain't nothing like Mister. So I see myself driving for him for three more years and then I'll retire and spend the rest of my life cutting grass and trimming trees like a typical Mexican gardener, except it'll be my grass and my trees."

"Was it stuff like the rumble at Goth House that made you wanna leave Hollywood?" Nate asked.

"Naw," Snuffy said. "It was fun tuning up Rolf Thunder, sort of. I even got a new and better nose out of it. It's just that patrol needs people who have real thick skin. Young people. So they can look at stuff like that baby in Little Armenia and go home and say, That's not my tragedy. That's somebody else's tragedy. That has nothing to do with me. When you get old like me, the skin thins out and bleeds."

"Who's gonna bring me homemade enchiladas then?" Nate said. "Tell me that."

"You'll find some other Mexican whose mother can cook," Snuffy said.

Nate said, "On this sad occasion I'd like to devote a few minutes to my own future. Would you mind if I stop by a house in the Hollywood Hills? I gotta see a director about making me a star."

"Anything you wanna do," Snuffy Salcedo said. "I'm just a short-timer along for the ride."

Nate drove up Mulholland Drive to the vicinity of the crash that had cost Jetsam his foot and Jonas Claymore his life. He stopped at the gate of a particularly large estate and pressed the button.

A man's voice answered and Nate said, "This is Officer Nate Weiss. I'd like to see Mr. Ressler if he's there."

The male voice spoke to someone and came back, saying, "Come in."

Nate and Snuffy Salcedo entered the gate, driving over the faux-cobblestone driveway, then circled around the fountain and parked next to the front door.

"Just be a minute," Nate said and got out.

"Take your time," Snuffy said. "I'll have a siesta."

Raleigh Dibble opened the door and said, "Good to see you again, Officer Weiss. Mrs. Brueger is in the great room."

Nate found her in silk pajamas and a matching peignoir, sitting on a lounge with a glass of wine beside her and a copy of Cosmopolitan in her lap. The music coming from surrounding speakers was Duke Ellington's "In a Sentimental Mood," one of Nate's favorite background melodies for any movie that promised glamour and sophistication.

"My, my, Nathan," she said. "You're even more handsome in uniform."

"Evening, Mrs. Brueger," Nate said.

She said, "It's Leona, remember? Can Raleigh get you anything to drink? Coffee, maybe?"

"No, thanks," Nate said. "My partner's waiting."

"Bring him in," Leona Brueger said. "Or her."

"Can't stay but a minute," Nate said. "The reason I'm here is that I've called Mr. Ressler half a dozen times in the last few months and only hooked up with him once. He said he'd be starting to prep his movie in February, but here it is March and I haven't heard anything. He hasn't returned my calls lately. You said you might be able to help me get this job and, well, here I am. Hopes and dreams, remember?"

Leona took another sip of wine and said, "Oh, Nathan, I'm so glad I'm not an actor. The truth of it is, after we got back from Europe, things went from bad to worse for poor Rudy. His investors pulled the plug on him and the project died, but he doesn'
t w
ant to admit it to anyone. That's probably why he's dodging your calls. He's scratching and clawing and trying to stay afloat, but the fact of the matter is, his career is circling the drain. He's drifting into irrelevancy, and in Hollywood that's Hell's last circle. A living death. I'm sure you know that the irrelevant are Hollywood's zombies."

Nate was silent for a moment and said, "I see."

"Aren't you used to it yet, Nathan?" Leona Brueger asked. "The rejection?"

"I should be," Nate said.

The phone buzzed and Nate heard Raleigh Dibble answer it in the butler's pantry, and then Raleigh entered the great room.

He said, "Mr. Brueger needs his heating pad and perhaps a back rub. I'll be in the cottage, Mrs. Brueger."

"Fine, Raleigh," Leona said.

After Raleigh was gone, she said to Nate, "My brother-in-law had a stroke last year but he's doing pretty well for a codger his age. I think he'd be dead without Raleigh. I can't imagine a more dedicated caregiver, not to mention that he's a fine butler and a divine chef. I'm so lucky to have him. I'll never let him go."

"Give my regards to Mr. Ressler, please," Nate said and turned to leave.

"Oh, he's gone the way of all second-raters," Leona said boozily. "He was only going to marry me for my money, which was okay with me until his limited charm ran out in Tuscany. I've decided not to move to Napa. I'll just drink wine and forget about making it. I think this house in the Hollywood Hills is a good place to grow old in. What do you think, Nathan?"

"It's a beautiful home," Nate said.

"Money is an answer," she said. "How soothing money is when we can't attain our real dreams. Thousands of failed actors will never know that because they'll never see enough of it."

"That sounds like me you're talking about," Nate said. "If I wa
s a
method actor, I'd think of a grapefruit or something else I hate and start crying now."

"Why don't you visit me from time to time, Nathan?" she said. "Who knows? I might meet another director. Maybe even a first-rate director who could actually promote you. Maybe I can help you keep your dream alive. Would you like that?"

He was silent for a moment and remembered what this fireproof aging woman had said to him when they'd first met: that in Hollywood everything is for sale if you know how to shop. Then Nate said, "Somehow I don't think I'm ever gonna see my name on the curb at one of the studios. Thank you anyway, ... Mrs. Brueger. I gotta get back to my beat now."

Leona Brueger gave him a long look, and then with a sigh of resignation and sadness she said, "Bye-bye, gorgeous."

Snuffy Salcedo was gone from Hollywood Station on the next transfer. And Hollywood Nate found himself teamed with Flotsam again during the new deployment period.

On their first night together in early March, Nate said, "How's your partner?"

Flotsam said, "Dude, my li'l pard's not only ready to come back to the Job, he's ready to try out his new foot at Malibu. I am totally amped. We been going to the beach for months and I think he's ready to go for it. I know for sure he's ready to do police work, but surfing, that's another story. But if anybody can do it, he can."

At 8 P
. M
., a call was given to 6-X-46 to see the woman at a souvenir shop on Hollywood Boulevard. It seemed that the Wedgie Bandit was back. He'd slipped into the store with a clutch of customers, and when an attractive young woman was bent over a shelf examining some Hollywood memorabilia, he sidled up behind her, grabbed her underwear, and gave her a world-class wedgie.

Nate said to Flotsam, "Hey, I've had some thoughts about the Wedgie Bandit and where he lives in relation to the library. Yo
u k
now that apartment building on Franklin near Ivar? The white one? Let's just post up over there and see who we find running home in a hurry."

Hollywood Nate was heading for Franklin Avenue when Flotsam said, "Dude, the Wedgie Bandit's a series offender. He likes to do a few jobs at one time. Maybe we should check the subway station. There's lotsa potential victims down there."

"I like my idea," Nate said. "Let's first check out the apartment building on Franklin."

Flotsam said, "Maybe he headed for Grauman's. All those tourists looking at Batman and Spider-Man? They'd never notice that little freakazoid sneaking up behind them."

The urgency in the surfer cop's voice puzzled Nate for a moment, but then he remembered the hospital conversation and he got it. Nate said, "Maybe you're right. My idea is dumb. Let's cruise on over to Grauman's Chinese Theatre. The Wedgie Bandit's probably there right now going after big game. Maybe the Green Lantern or even Darth Vader if he can get under Darth's cape."

Flotsam grinned in relief when Nate turned away from the apartment building on Franklin Avenue and headed west. He said gratefully, "Dude, until my li'l pard gets back, I gotta teach you some vocabulary so we can, like, communicate as equals, okay? Now to start with, a fibro is a surfboard."

"Fibro," Nate said. "Got it."

"Getting tubed is when you're inside the wave, right? So it might apply to certain things in life."

"Roger that," Nate said. "Getting tubed."

"A goat-boater is one of those donks that kayaks into our surf. So that's a pushy dude."

Nate said, "Never goat-boat the kahunas. How am I doing?"

"You're boglius, dude," Flotsam said. "That means you are one coolaphonic copper and it is rad to be sharing your shop for a while."

Nate said wistfully, "And I guess being a coolaphonic copper is even better than being a movie star the way you see things."

Other books

Obsession by Quinn, Ivory
Antwerp by Roberto Bolano
Fall Into His Kiss by Jenny Schwartz
Define "Normal" by Julie Anne Peters
Demon Lord by T C Southwell
Sloane Sisters by Anna Carey
Another Country by Kate Hewitt
The Girl in the Wall by Jacquelyn Mitchard, Daphne Benedis-Grab
Dancing With the Devil by Katie Davis