The Prince of Beverly Hills by Stuart Woods

Author:Stuart Woods
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2005-04-05T05:00:00+00:00

33

RICK CALLED THE LAPD and asked to speak to Ben Morrison, his acquaintance who handled organized crime.

“Detective Morrison.”

“Ben, it’s Rick Barron.”

“Hi, Rick. What’s up?”

“I’d like to buy you a drink.”

“Why?”

“Some business to discuss. Could be profitable.”

“When?”

“How about right now? It’s after work.”

“Jimmy’s in half an hour?”

“Good. See you then.” Rick hung up and called Clete Barrow. “Evening. How about some dinner?”

“I’m not drinking, so I don’t need my hand held.”

“Shucks, I just wanted to have dinner with a movie star, and you’re the only one available.”

“Well, since you put it that way. Brown Derby?”

“How’d you like to experience a little local color?”

“Why not?”

“Remember the gun shop Al’s, on Melrose?”

“Sure.”

“Right across the street, place called Jimmy’s. It’s a cop bar, and they have simple but decent food.”

“When?”

“An hour?”

“See you there.”

Rick hung up and went back to his car. He sat there for a few minutes, thinking, then he started the car and drove to Jimmy’s.

The place was noisy, filled with police officers—some of them off-duty—and cigarette smoke. He spoke with half a dozen cops he knew at the bar, fending off jibes about his new line of work and buying some drinks, then he found an empty booth at the back where he could still see the door. A waiter made a halfhearted pass at the booth, but Rick put him off. “When my friend gets here,” he said, “and I’m paying.” As if Ben Morrison would reach for a check.

Ben showed up ten minutes later, worked his way down the bar, and finally settled into the booth with Rick. A waiter appeared.

“A double Johnnie Walker Black, neat,” Ben said. He pointed at Rick. “Hollywood Joe here is buying.”

“Old Crow, ice, no water,” Rick said.

Ben tossed his hat onto the seat beside him and slicked back his hair. He was fortyish, thicker around the middle than he used to be and with a little less hair to slick back. “So, what? You’re gonna make me rich and famous?”

“Just a little more comfortable,” Rick said. “You might be able to figure a way to get a promotion out of it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ben snorted. “I made sergeant eight years ago, and that’s it for me, pal. I got eight more years till pension, and I’m going to sit it out keeping tabs on the organizational activities of spics, niggers and goombahs.”

“I knew there was crime to be found among our Spanish and darker friends, but I didn’t know it was organized.”

“Oh, there’s a thriving marijuana trade among the wetbacks, and the darkies have learned to steal cars. We got an actual ring going out there.”

“How’s it going with our Italian community?”

“Jack Dragna has learned from experience. He’s trying to make it look legit where he can, which makes it harder for me, but he’s not fooling anybody. Bugsy Siegel is shoving him aside, anyway, and he apparently has Luciano’s backing.”

The drinks arrived and they raised their glasses.

“How many guys working for you, Ben?”

“I’ve got two detectives, and I can borrow bodies as needed.”

“That’s not much.

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