Marge said, “Maybe he’d remember more than you. He was older.”

“Doubt it,” Jared said softly. “Nick had a way of zoning out when…” He looked away.

“When what?” Marge asked. “When your parents fought? It’s okay if they fought. It’s okay if your father yelled. My father was a big yeller. He screamed more than he talked.”

“My dad rarely raised his voice.”

“I like the emphasis on the word rarely,” Marge said. “So the couple of times he did raise his voice, I bet it made an impression on you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Oliver shrugged. “It’s certainly your prerogative not to talk.”

Silence.

Marge stood up. “Jared, we’ve taken up enough of your time. Thanks for allowing us to come into your house and bring up painful topics.”

Jared regarded her with suspicious eyes. “I went to law school. I did plenty of interrogation in my course work. By your line of questioning-the hit-and-miss quality-it’s clear to me that you don’t have a clue as to who did it.”

Oliver smiled cryptically. “We have clues. Eventually we’ll put them all together. And when we do, we’ll have answers.”

Marge held out her hand. “Good-night, Jared. Thanks again.”

Jared waited a beat. “Are you going to be interviewing my mother again?”

“Most likely,” Marge told him.

“So then you can ask her what they fought about.”

“We already did,” Oliver said. “Just like you, she said they rarely fought.”

“More like they didn’t fight at all,” Marge said. “That I have a rough time believing.”

Jared sighed. “It was money.” Marge waited for more. “The few times I heard my parents arguing, it was about money. She was spending too much. And they weren’t knock-down, blow-out rip-roaring fights. I just remember hearing my dad’s voice in anger. And that was unusual.”

“Thanks, Jared, for being candid.”

“And isn’t that what most couples fight about?” Jared said. “Money?”

“Money is definitely a flash point.”

“Money as well as kids, the in-laws, and sex…” Jared shrugged. “I think you can sum up most of the flash points with those four topics.”

Oliver said, “Money, the kids, sex, the in-laws, lack of attention, too much attention, not talking, talking too much, working too hard, not working hard enough, being a stick in the mud, being a good-time Charlie, being too risky, being too conservative, being too cultured, being a bore, being stuck-up, being white trash.” He threw up his hands and gave him a pained smile. “My ex had an infinite list of topics to argue about.”

THE SUIT WAS CLEARLY expensive. So were the shoes, the bag, and the jewelry. But the apparel just didn’t sit right on the woman. The shoulders were too big, the purse was small, the skirt was too long, and the heels were too high. Now the jewelry…

The jewelry was nice.

She seemed lost. Marge wondered how she had gotten past the squad room secretary. She stood up from her desk and walked over. “Can I help you?”

“Help would be nice.” Marge noticed that the woman’s eyes had gone cold. “Originally, I came to see Captain Strapp.”

“He’s over on the other side of the building. I’ll call his secretary and find out if he’s in, if you want.”

“Don’t bother,” the woman said. “He isn’t. I’m not pleased.” She reached in her clutch, pulled out a note, and gave it to Marge along with a hard stare. “I was told that this man was in charge?”

Marge read the note and glanced in the direction of Decker’s office. “Uh, have a seat and I’ll check to see if Lieutenant Decker’s in.”

“You’re staring at an open door so it’s obvious that he’s in.” She snapped her clutch shut. “It’s good to know that someone is running the department. Apparently, your captain has an absentee problem.”

Marge said, “Whom am I speaking to?”

“ Genoa Greeves.”

The name meant nothing to Marge. “If you’d just sit tight, Ms. Greeves, I’ll go check if the lieutenant’s in. Often his door is open, but he’s somewhere else.”

“Thank you.” Genoa busied herself in the contents of her purse.

Decker was in. Marge said, “There’s some weirdo named Genoa Greeves asking to speak with you.”

“ Genoa Greeves?” Decker stood up and put on his suit jacket. “Where is she?”

“In the squad room.” Marge was taken aback. “Should that name register something?”

“She’s the billionaire who reopened the Little case.”

“Well, that explains the ’tude.”

“Strapp will want part of this. You want to call him for me?”

“He’s not in.”

Decker made a face. “Not good. Find out where he is and get his ass over here ASAP. Otherwise, he’s going be pi-issed.” He spotted his target and walked over with an extended hand. She graced it with a two-fingered dead-fish shake. “I’m Lieutenant Decker, Ms. Greeves. I’m the one who’s doing most of the work with the Little case. Let’s talk in my office.”

Genoa followed him. As Decker closed the door, she said, “Not much of an office. I hope that doesn’t reflect your competence level.”

Decker smiled as he pulled out a chair for her. “This is about as big as they make them around here. And I’m sure you didn’t travel all this way just to talk architecture. What can I do for you?”

“Where’s your captain?”

“I’m sure he’ll be here momentarily. If you want to talk about progress on the case, you’re better off talking to me.”

“He shunted the case to you?”

“Captain Strapp is running the precinct. He did you a supreme favor by assigning the case to me. I’ve worked hundreds of homicides, and I’m much more familiar with handling cold cases.”

“Are you good?”

“I’m terrific.”

“When I googled you, it said you were a sergeant.”

“I got promoted. That shows you how good I am.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

“We call them people of interest. A few.”

“And how far away are you from solving the murder?”

Decker regarded her. Expensive clothes, but they didn’t sit properly. Her face was made up, but she was clearly not used to using cosmetics. Her hair was shoulder length and recently styled. It was her dark brown eyes that said it all. Cold, calculating, piercing. “I’m hoping weeks or months. It could be years.”

“Or it could be never.”

“Absolutely.”

“Would offering individual bonuses for those who solve the murder increase the incentive to work harder?”

Decker thought a moment before he spoke. “Downtown L.A. is filled with cold cases. People just like Ben Little…shot down, killed, no one ever apprehended for the murder, no one brought to justice. There are thousands of grieving families that have no idea about the last minutes of their loved ones, no idea if the monster who killed their wives, their daughters, their husbands and sons is still out murdering others. If we had a lot more people, we could do more with those cases. But we don’t have the manpower, so ninety-nine percent of the cold cases remain cold. That’s just the way it works.”

Genoa was annoyed. “I’m not here for a sob story, Lieutenant. Only results.”

“And I’m not giving you a sob story, so please just hear me out. Normally, a cold case wouldn’t be assigned to an active lieutenant running a detectives division. But for Dr. Little, I got word to do it personally because you’ve promised a large sum of money.”

“If the case is solved.”

“Exactly. If the case is solved.” Decker paused. “Believe me, we can use money. I can use money. And you can promise me more money if you want. And if I solve it, I’ll take the money. I like money. But I swear to God, Ms. Greeves, I can’t work any harder than I’m working on it already. And frankly, I don’t need any kind of incentive. The solve is my incentive. I don’t like unfinished business.”

Genoa stared at him with steely eyes. “You’re blowing me off.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“I bet you were a real bully when you were a kid.”