Decker was about to respond defensively but held himself in check. “What do you want to know?”

“What was your day like?”

“Long and fruitless. I spent the majority of my evening hunting around for a psychologically compromised man who seems to have suddenly disappeared.”

“That’s sad. Does he have any relatives?”

“He has a brother who is very concerned.” Hannah looked upset, so Decker added, “It could be he didn’t disappear. Maybe he just decided to take off.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. It’s my job to second-guess people, but often I’m wrong.”

“Anything good happen?”

“Uh, yeah, actually.” He smiled. “I spoke to a couple of detectives in Hollywood and they brought me on board a case they’re working on. It was very nice of them considering I poked around their business without asking.”

“What case?”

“The murder of a record producer that might be related to a cold case I’m working on.”

“The one involving the Doodoo Sluts?”

Decker tried to hide his initial surprise. “Uh, yeah, we spoke about that, didn’t we? See, I do talk to you about my cases.”

“You didn’t talk about the case, just the band.”

“Did you find out anything about them?”

“Nothing big. The founding members are…hold on…” She ticked away on her laptop. “Rudy Banks and Primo Ekerling. They met in the L.A. punk scene and started performing as the Jerkies at underground clubs, but it was as the Doodoo Sluts when they got a following. They wrote most of the songs and went on to be record producers. The other two main members were…Ryan Goldberg and Liam O’Dell. They seem to have dropped out of sight.”

“For Ryan Goldberg, he’s literally dropped out of sight,” Decker said. “He’s the man I’ve been looking for.”

“Oh…so I guess you know all this stuff about the band.”

“I didn’t know that Rudy and Primo performed as the Jerkies. Where’d you find that out?”

“I think I read it in an old interview online.”

“That was smart.”

“So who’s the record producer who got murdered? Ekerling or Banks?”

“Primo Ekerling.”

“Oh…” She was quiet. “That’s too bad. I feel like I kinda know the guy now.”

“That must feel strange.”

“A little. Who killed him?”

“Hollywood Homicide arrested two punks for the murder,” Decker told her. “Your sister found some damning evidence against one of the suspects.”

“Who are the suspects?”

“Two thugs. Look it up on the Internet if you’re interested in them.”

“Fair enough.” Hannah played with her computer for a moment. “I didn’t know that Cindy is in Homicide.”

“She’s not. She was helping me out. I saw her today. That was the high point…until this moment.”

“Good save.”

“It’s not a save; you are the high point of this long and dreary day.”

Hannah stifled a smile. “How’s Cin doing?”

“Working hard.”

“What would you do if I decided to become a cop?”

Decker was momentarily stunned. “Please don’t do that. Your mother would divorce me.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Is this a true question or are you just being provocative?”

“Maybe a little of both.”

Decker sighed. “After I was done screaming at you, I suppose I’d support you.”

Hannah leaned over and kissed her father’s cheek. “That was a very good answer. You passed the dad test.” A quick smile. “I still have some work to do.”

“It’s after twelve.”

“That’s why I sorta need to stop talking to you and get studying.”

“You were talking on the phone when I came in.”

“I was talking to Sara and we were going over the material together.”

“With the TV on?”

“It’s muted. I like the occasional image.”

“And you’re IMing.”

“I’m talking to some of my friends in Israel. It’s the only time I have when we’re both up.”

“You have an answer for everything.”

“Multitasking is the hallmark of brains in my generation.” She kissed him again. “I love you, Abba. Close the door on the way out.”

BY THE TIME Decker made it over to County Jail and went through procedure to gain entrance, Rip Garrett and Tito Diaz were already in the interview cell, sitting on metal chairs, drinking coffee from paper cups. Both of them had on typical detective dress: dark suits, white shirts and dark ties, rubber-sole oxfords. With a single swoop of the eyes, Decker did a quick overview of Diaz. His most prominent feature was a thick neck, followed by a strong chin, broad forehead, black hair, dark eyes. More muscular than Garrett but he sat shorter. Decker introduced himself with a handshake, and by the time Martel was led in by the guards, Decker had a coffee cup in his hand.

Travis appeared to have beefed up since his mug shot taken on the day of his arrest. His chest seemed wider under jail blues, and his arms were thicker. His hair had grown even longer, wavy tresses hanging down his back. In person, Decker could discern Asian influence in Martel, demonstrated not only by the black hair but also by the slight tilt of his brown eyes. His skin was coffee and cream, his cheekbones were prominent, his lips were thick, and his teeth were big and white.

His arms were shackled for transport, but the jail guard took off the cuffs when they seated him inside the interview cell. Martel regarded Decker. “You my lawyer?”

“No, Mr. Martel. I’m Lieutenant Decker from LAPD.”

“So you the boss?”

“I’m a boss but not the boss over Detective Garrett or Detective Diaz.”

Diaz said, “Are you comfortable, Travis? We have our coffee. You want something to drink?”

The jailbird thought. “How ’bout a Red Zing.”

“No alcohol, Travis. You know that.”

“Then how ’bout a Pepsi?”

“That we could probably do-”

“And a smoke would be good.”

Decker took a cigarette out of his pocket and gave it to him. He lit the smoke with a lighter, then regarded the thug as he puffed. Furtive eyes. So what else was new? A paper cup with Pepsi came a few minutes later. He finished it in a single gulp. “I’m a little hungry.”

“Lunch is in an hour,” Garrett said.

“I’m just be sayin’ I’m a little hungry.”

Decker said, “You want to know why we’re here?”

“I ain’t have to be curious ’cause you’re gonna tell me.”

Decker’s face was flat. “We’re here, Mr. Martel, because we all have something interesting to relate to you.”

Martel’s eyes narrowed as he finished up his first cigarette. He dropped it in the paper cup. “Like what?”

Garrett leaned forward. “First I want to remind you that you can ask for a lawyer whenever you want. You don’t have to talk to us because we still could use what you say against you and your case.”

“Just like the first time, it’s your right to have an attorney present when we talk to you,” Diaz said. “We’d like to keep it simple, so just hear us out.”

Travis asked for another cigarette. Decker complied. Martel sat back and puffed for a moment without speaking. He had their attention and he was going to milk it. “Now y’all be sayin’ that you want me to talk without my lawyer. And I sayin’ to you that mebbe I don’t want to talk with you without my lawyer, nomasayin’? But mebbe I do wanna hear why y’all here. I’m decidin’.”

Decker said, “That certainly is your right, Mr. Martel. So let me give you a hint. It has to do with the new evidence that could affect you.”

“How’s it gonna infect me?”

“It links you to the murder of-”

Martel levitated out of his seat. “I ain’t done no murder!”

“Sit down,” Diaz told him.

“Why you be tellin’ me the same shit you tole me before?”

Diaz stood up and appeared very tall. “Sit down now!”

“It’s cool.” Martel sat back down and held out his hands palms up. “I ain’t be throwin’ shades at you, bro, I just be axin’ a question.”