L.a. Confidential Quotes

Some men get the world, some men get ex-hookers and a trip to Arizona. You're in with the former, but my God I don't envy the blood on your conscience.

Don't make a career out of underestimating me." — Claire de Haven

So you're like a ... an amateur sleuth?" "God no. I'm more like the hapless guys in those film-noir flicks we used to watch. I keep getting tangled up in bizarro events." "Oh yes?” His eyes lit with enthusiasm. I was speaking his language now. “Guy Pearce in L.A. Confidential or William Hurt in Body Heat?" "I was thinking more like Woody Allen in Play It Again, Sam.

Some men get the world, some men get ex-hookers and a trip to Arizona.

A thought nagged him: if Lynn Bracken reported to Patchett in full, he would have yanked his people before the police could bring them in—the way Inge, Bergeron and son disappeared immediately pre–Nite Owl. Two possibles on that—she was playing an angle or their rutting had her confused and she was stalling to figure the upshot. Most likely the former—the woman cut her last confused breath at birth. He could still taste her.

All dressed up and no one to kill.

They skirted the party, took side stairs down. Lynn’s Packard in the watch commander’s space, a summons stuck to the windshield. Ed tore it up, checked the back seat. Bud White. Braces on his legs, his head shaved and sutured. No splints on his hands—they looked strong. A wired-up mouth that made him look goofy. Lynn stood a few feet away. White tried to smile, grimaced. Ed said, “I swear to you I’ll get Dudley. I swear to you I’ll do it.” White grabbed his hands, squeezed until they both winced. Ed said, “Thanks for the push.” A smile, a laugh—Bud forced them through wires. Ed touched his face. “You were my redemption.” Party noise upstairs—Dudley Smith laughing. Lynn said, “We should go now.” “Was I ever in the running?” “Some men get the world, some men get ex-hookers and a trip to Arizona. You’re in with the former, but my God I don’t envy you the blood on your conscience.” Ed kissed her cheek. Lynn got in the car, rolled up the windows. Bud pressed his hands to the glass. Ed touched his side, palms half the man’s size. The car moved—Ed ran with it, hands against hands. A turn into traffic, a goodbye toot on the horn. Gold stars. Alone with his dead.

I walked to the heart of the neon smear.