Munson said, “We still have a long way to go, Cole. We can’t have you drawing attention to this. The man has to believe he’s safe.”

“How close are you?”

“We would arrest him if we had something. We don’t.”

“You think he’s a flight risk?”

“You never know, but no, I don’t think so. People like this, they think they can beat you and some of them do. They get off by thinking they’re smarter than us. He wanted us to think Byrd is the guy, and right now he believes we bought it. That’s why we played it the way we did. As long as he believes he’s safe, we have a shot at making a case. You cannot kill seven people without making a mistake. It cannot be done.”

Munson nodded like he believed it, then stared at me.

“We’re busting our asses to make this case, but right now our biggest problem is you, asking around at Leverage, scaring the shit out of the Casik girl, getting Alan Levy worked up-”

I raised my palms, stopping him.

“Waitaminute. How did I scare Ivy Casik?”

Marx scowled at me.

“That’s why I hate goddamned private operators like you-you don’t know how to handle yourself.”

I looked at Bastilla.

“What’s this about, Bastilla? Did you find her?”

“I didn’t have to find her. She called. She wanted to file a complaint against you.”

“For what?”

“She said you accused her of being a drug dealer.”

“I asked if she picked up the oxys for Byrd.”

“She heard it as a threat.”

“What did she say about the reporter?”

“There wasn’t a reporter, you dipshit. She made it up to get rid of you. Then she got worried she might get into trouble, so she called us to straighten it out.”

I flashed on Ivy Casik. I wondered if Levy had found her and if she had told him the same thing. Then Bastilla put the last of the files in the box and stacked the murder books on top.

“That’s everything, Chief.”

Marx nodded, then studied me again. His brow was so deeply furrowed it looked like rows of midwestern corn.

“So what are you going to do? Can we get some cooperation here?”

I glanced at Pike, and Pike nodded.

“I don’t like it, but I understand what you’re trying to do. I’m not going to sit out the game, Marx, but I won’t spoil the play. I’m better than that.”

“We’ll see.”

Marx put out his hand. The gesture surprised me, and maybe I hesitated too long, but I took it. He left without saying anything else, then Munson followed with the files. Bastilla was trailing after Munson when I stopped her at the door.

“When you bust Wilts, everything about the chief’s prior relationship with him is going to come out. It isn’t lost on me that he knows that.”

She arched her eyebrows, and it was as cool a move as anything I had ever seen.

“How nice for you, Cole.”

We listened to them drive away, then I went to the phone and called Alan Levy. Jacob answered again.

“Sorry, Mr. Cole, he isn’t in. Would you like to leave another message?”

“This would be easier if you gave me his cell.”

Jacob wouldn’t give me the cell, but he promised to page Alan and then hung up.

I put down the phone and turned to Pike.

“Let’s go see Ivy. If I scared her, wait ’til she sees you.”

“You don’t think she lied?”

“I think she’s lying to someone. The question is who.”

We were moving for the door when Alan Levy returned my call. Jacob had come through with the page.

SPEAKING WITH Levy left me conflicted. Alan was trying to help, but I had given Marx my word and understood his need for secrecy, so I did not tell Levy that Wilts was a suspect. I told him about Ivy Casik instead.

“I spoke with Bastilla again. She told me Ivy made up the story about the reporter.”

“Where did Bastilla find her?”

“She didn’t. Ivy called her to complain about me.”

I related what Bastilla told me.

Alan made grunting noises as he listened, then sounded doubtful.

“She claimed you threatened her?”

“She was surprised when I approached her, but I didn’t threaten her or do anything to scare her. She told Bastilla she made it up to get rid of me.”

“Does Bastilla believe her?”

“It sounded that way. Ivy called Bastilla, not the other way around. She wanted to file a complaint.”

“Did she tell them anything new about Byrd?”

“I don’t think so. Bastilla didn’t say that she did.”

Alan fell silent for a moment.

“We should speak with this woman. I went over there again today and she still wasn’t home.”

“Pike and I were leaving for her apartment when you called.”

“Good. If you find her, let me know. I think this girl knows more than she’s telling.”

“I do, too, Alan.”

“Let me give you my cell number. You won’t have to go through Jacob.”

He gave me the number, then Pike and I locked up the house. We took both cars in case we had to split up, driving in a loose caravan down through the canyon and east to Ivy Casik’s apartment.

The modest apartment house held the same watchful silence it had on my earlier visits, as if the building and people within it were sleeping. The afternoon stillness trapped the scent of the gardenias in the courtyard, reminding me of the cloying smell of a funeral parlor.

Pike and I knocked on Ivy’s door, but, like before, she did not answer.

Pike said, “Creepy place.”

“Pod people live here.”

“Maybe she’s at work.”

“She’s a website designer. She works at home.”

Pike reached past me and knocked again. Loud.

I pressed my ear to the door, listening for movement inside her apartment. A large window was to the left of the door, but Ivy had pulled her drapes. I cupped my face to the window, trying to see through a thin gap in the drapes, but couldn’t see much. The lights were off, but my view was only a thin slice of the interior. The memory of Angel Tomaso’s body was fresh, and I suddenly feared I might find Ivy the same way.

“You with the noise again.”

We turned, and saw the pear-shaped manager in his door. He blinked at me, then saw Pike and blinked again.

He said, “Oh, my.”

The little pug waddled out between his feet and stood in the courtyard, panting.

I said, “Sorry. The sound really echoes in here, doesn’t it?”

“Is this about the police again?”

He wore the same thin cotton shirt and baggy shorts, and still held a cocktail glass. It might have been the same glass. His legs were lumpy with cellulite and very white.

I said, “That’s right. We need to see her.”

“You and everyone else. Someone was here earlier, too, banging away at the door.”

That would have been Levy.

“Was she home?”

“She travels a lot, you know. I don’t think she saw the note you left in her box.”

He tinkled the ice again, pissed off I had left the note in her mailbox instead of with him, and frowned at the dog.

“Go make piddle.”

The little dog’s round face curled into a smile, then it waddled back into his apartment.

“She doesn’t tell me when she’s coming and going. If you’d like to leave a note with me this time, I’ll make sure she gets it.”

I glanced back at her apartment, wondering what was behind the door.

Pike gestured at the surrounding apartments.

“She friendly with any of these people? Maybe they know where she is.”

He sized Pike up and down, and tinkled the ice again. He put out his hand.

“I’m Darbin Langer. Yours?”

“Pike.”

Langer hadn’t bothered to introduce himself to me.

He shook his head, answering Pike’s question.

“I doubt it. She isn’t the friendliest person, and we like our privacy here. We like a quiet home without all this coming and going and knocking. They’re all at work anyway, and I’d ask you not to pound on their doors.”

“How about I slip a note under her door. Maybe that would work better than leaving it in her box.”