{"product_id":"the-choirboys-isbn-9780385341608","title":"The Choirboys","description":"\u003cb\u003e“Each wears his cynicism like a bulletproof jockstrap—each has his horror story, his bad dream, his nightshriek. He is afraid of his friends—he is afraid of himself.”—\u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePartners in the Los Angeles Police Department, they’re haunted by terrifying dark  secrets of the nightwatch–shared predawn drink and sex sessions they call \u003ci\u003echoir practice.\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“A master storyteller . . . authenticity oozes from this book . . . freewheeling and chilling and certainly Wambaugh's best.”—\u003ci\u003eHouston Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eJoseph Wambaugh\u003c\/b\u003e is the hard-hitting bestselling writer who conveys the passionate immediacy of a special world. He was a police officer with the LAPD for 14 years before retiring in 1974, during which time he published three bestselling novels. Over the course of his career, Wambaugh has been the author of more than 20 works of fiction and nonfiction, all written in his gritty, distinctive noir-ish style. He's won multiple Edgar Awards, and several of his books have been made into feature films and TV movies. He lives in California with his wife.\u003ci\u003eChapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Territorial Imperative\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e The man most deserving of credit for keeping  the MacArthur Park killing out of the newspapers before it brought discredit to the  Los Angeles Police Department was Commander Hector Moss. It was perhaps Commander  Moss' finest hour.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The blond commander was so exultant this afternoon he didn't  mind that Deputy Chief Adrian Lynch was keeping him waiting the allotted time. Chief  Lynch kept all callers waiting precisely three minutes before coming to the phone,  unless his secretary told him it was an assistant chief or the chief of police himself  or one of the commissioners or a city councilman or anyone at City Hall who reported  directly to the mayor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Moss despised Lynch for having a do-nothing job and a specially  ordered oversized desk. Moss knew for a fact that Deputy Chief Lynch had secret plans  to increase his personal staff by two: one policewoman and one civilian, both of  whom were busty young women. Commander Moss knew this because his adjutant, Lieutenant  Dewey Treadwell, had sneaked into Lynch's office and searched his file basket when  a janitor left the door open. Of course Lieutenant Treadwell could not receive a  specifically worded commendation for his assignment but he did receive an ambiguously  worded \"attaboy\" from Moss.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But there was another assignment which Treadwell had  failed to carry out, and Commander Moss' stomach soured as he remembered it. It had  to do with Moss' IQ score of 107. Throughout his twenty-one year career his IQ had  meant nothing to his rise to the rank of commander. Indeed, he had not even known  what his score was. He had been a state college honors student in police science  and reasoned that no one with an ordinary IQ could manage this. But with the retirement  of a senior deputy chief it had been called to Moss' attention by none other than  Deputy Chief Lynch who didn't think the promotion board would consider a man for  such a high police post who possessed an IQ of only 107. Lynch's own IQ was 140.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Commander Moss was livid. He took Lieutenant Treadwell to a Chinatown bar one Friday  after work and forced the teetotaler to down five cocktails, promising his personal  patronage for the rest of Treadwell's career if he could carry off a most delicate  assignment. The ever ambitious, thirty year old lieutenant agreed to slip into Personnel  Division that night and change Commander Moss' IQ score from 107 to 141.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Commander  Moss downed his fourth Singapore sling and said, \"Treadwell, I know I can depend  on you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But instantly the lieutenant's ambition gave way to fear. He stammered,  \"If anything ever . . . well, look, sir, the watch commander of Personnel is a former  detective. He might start sniffing around. They have ways in the crime lab to tell  if documents have been tampered with!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Don't talk crime lab to me, Treadwell,\"  Moss replied. \"Have you ever worked the Detective Bureau?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No, sir.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You listen  to me, Treadwell. You're an office pogue. You never been anything but an office pogue.  You don't have the slightest idea what goes on in a working police division. But  you keep your mouth shut and do what you're told and I'll see to it that you're a  captain someday and you can have your own station to play with. You don't and I'll  have you in uniform on the nightwatch in Watts. Understand me, Treadwell?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh,  yes, sir!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Now drink your Pink Lady,\" Commander Moss commanded. (It was Hector  Moss who had persuaded the chief of police that the traditional police rank of \"inspector\"  was no longer viable in an era of violence when policemen are called upon to employ  counterinsurgency tactics. Thanks to Moss all officers formerly of the inspector  rank could now call themselves \"commander.\" Moss had \"Commander and Mrs. Hector Moss\"  painted on his home mailbox. Commander Moss had been a PFC in the army.)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lieutenant  Treadwell tried desperately every night for three weeks to sneak into Personnel Division.  Each morning he reported a \"Sorry, sir, negative\" to Commander Moss. Lieutenant Dewey  Treadwell lost ten pounds in those three weeks. He slept no more than four hours  a night and then only fitfully. He was impotent. On the twenty-first night of his  mission he was almost caught by a janitor. Lieutenant Treadwell was defeated and  admitted it to Commander Moss on a black Wednesday morning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The commander listened  to his adjutant's excuses for a moment and said, \"Did you get a good look at the  janitor's face, Lieutenant?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, sir. No . . . I don't know, sir. Why?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Because  that boogie might live in Watts. And you'll need some friends there. because that's  where i'm sending you on the next transfer, you incompetent fucking pansy!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Commander  Moss did not send Lieutenant Treadwell to Watts. He decided a spineless jellyfish  was preferable to a smart aleck like Lieutenant Wirtz who worked for Deputy Chief  Lynch. What he did was to go into Personnel Division in broad daylight, rip the commendation  he wrote for Treadwell out of the file, draw a black X through it with a felt tipped  pen, seal it in an envelope and leave it in Lieutenant Treadwell's incoming basket  without comment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lieutenant Treadwell, after his hair started falling out in tufts,  earned his way back into Commander Moss' good graces by authoring that portion of  the Los Angeles Police Department manual which reads:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e sideburns: Sideburns shall  not extend below the bottom of the outer ear opening (the top of the earlobe) and  shall end in a clean-shaven horizontal line. The flare (terminal portion of the sideburn)  shall not exceed the width of the main portion of the sideburn by more than one-fourth  of the unflared width.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e moustaches: A short and neatly trimmed moustache of natural  color may be worn. Moustaches shall not extend below the vermilion border of the  upper lip or the corners of the mouth and may not extend to the side more than one-quarter  inch beyond the corners of the mouth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It took Lieutenant Treadwell thirteen weeks  to compose the regulations. He was toasted and congratulated at a staff meeting.  He beamed proudly. The regulations were perfect. No one could understand them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As  Commander Moss cooled his heels on the telephone waiting for Deputy Chief Adrian  Lynch, the deputy chief was watching the second hand on his watch sweep past the  normal three minute interval he reserved for most callers. Chief Lynch couldn't decide  whether to give Moss a four minute wait or have his secretary say he would call back.  Of course he couldn't be obviously rude. That bastard Moss had the ear of the chief  of police and every other idiot who didn't know him well. Lynch hated those phony  golden locks which Moss probably tinted. The asshole was at least forty-five years  old and still looked like a Boy Scout. Not a wrinkle on that smirking kisser.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lynch  punched the phone button viciously and chirped, \"Good morning, Deputy Chief Lynch  speaking. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e May I help you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's I, Chief. Hec Moss,\" said the commander, and  Chief Lynch grimaced and thought, It's I. Oh shit!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah Hec.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Chief, it's about  the MacArthur Park orgy.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Goddamnit, don't call it that!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Sorry sir. I meant  the choir practice.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Don't call it that either. That's all we need for the papers  to pick it up.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes sir,\" Moss said. And then more slyly, \"I'm very cognizant of  bad press, sir. After all, I squelched the thing and assuaged the victim's family.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Oh shit! thought Lynch. Assuaged. \"Yes, Hec,\" said the chief wearily.\"Well sir,  I was wondering, just to lock the thing up so to speak, I was wondering if we shouldn't  have the chief order quick trial boards for every officer who was at the orgy. Fire  them all.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Don't . . . say . . . orgy. And don't . . . say . . . choir practice!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Sorry sir.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's not very good thinking, Hec.\" The chief tilted back in his  chair, lifted his wing tips to the desk top, raised up his rust colored hairpiece  and scratched his freckled rubbery scalp. \"I don't think we should consider firing  them.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They deserve it, sir.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They deserve more than that, Hec. The bastards  deserve to be in jail as accessories to a killing. I'd personally like to see every  one of them in Folsom Prison. But they might make a fuss. They might bring in some  lawyers to the trial board. They might notify the press if we have a mass dismissal.  In short, they might hurl a pail of defecation into the air conditioning.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Chief  Lynch waited for a chuckle from Moss, got none and thought again about Moss' low  IQ. \"Anyway, Hec,\" he continued, \"we have a real good case only against the one who  did the shooting and I think we're stuck with that. We'll give the others a trial  board and a six month suspension, but we'll take care of it quietly. Maybe we can  scare some of them into resigning.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Some goddamn shrink at General Hospital's saying  that killer's nuts.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What do you expect from General Hospital? What're they good  for anyway but treating the lame and lazy on the welfare rolls? What do you plan  to do about that dumbass detective who examined the officer the night of the shooting  and ordered him taken to the psychiatric ward?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Ten days off?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Should get twenty.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Afraid he might complain to the press.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Guess you're right,\" Chief Lynch conceded  grudgingly.\"Well, hope you're happy with our office, Chief!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You did a fine job,  Hec,\" Deputy Chief Lynch said. \"But I wish you'd talk to your secretary. I've had  reports she didn't say 'good morning' twice last week when my adjutant called.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Won't happen again, Chief.\"","brand":"Delta","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303559778533,"sku":"NP9780385341608","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780385341608.jpg?v=1767738678","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-choirboys-isbn-9780385341608","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}