A HARDBOILED COP looms over his suspect; a wise-guy type who sometimes sells his 22-year-old body for cash. Los Angeles Sergeant Robert Smith is grilling (Robert) Paul Ferguson about a gruesome murder up at 3110 Laurel Canyon Boulevard.
“You bang these fruits really hard frequently and you stomp them?” he insists. The year is 1968, but the line of questioning feels like it’s swiped straight from a 1940s crime noir.