Riggens pushed my hand off and tried to crab away, but he didn't do much more than flop onto his back. "Fuck you."

Pinkworth said, "You're in a world of shit. You just assaulted a Los Angeles police officer."

I said, "Call it in and let's go to the station. Maybe they'll give Riggens a Breathalyzer while you guys are booking me." You could smell it on him a block away.

Garcia said, "Quiet, Pink."

A green four-door sedan identical to the other two cop sedans came toward us across the lot. Riggens was still trying to get up when the green car pulled in behind him and a tall guy with short gray hair got out. He was wearing chino slacks and a striped short-sleeve shirt tucked neatly into his pants and short-topped Redwing trail shoes. He was tanned dark, like he spent a lot of time in the sun, and his face was lined. I made him for his mid-forties, but he could've been older. He looked at Riggens, then the two cops by the blue sedan, and then at Joe Pike. He wasn't upset and he wasn't excited, like he knew what he'd find when he got here and, when he got here, he knew that he could handle it. When he saw Joe Pike he said, "I didn't know you were in on this."

Pike nodded once.

I gave them surprised. "You guys know each other?"

Pike said, "Eric Dees."

Eric Dees looked at me, then looked back at Pike. "Pike and I rode a black-and-white together for a couple of months maybe a million years ago." Pike had been a uniformed LAPD officer when I'd met him. "Put away the shotgun, Joe. It's over, now. No one's going to drop the hammer."

Pike lowered the shotgun.

Pinkworth craned around and stared at Pike. 'This sonofabitch is Joe Pike? The Joe Pike?" Pike had worn the uniform for almost three years, but it hadn't ended well.

Riggens said, "Who?" He was still having trouble on the ground.

Dees said, "Sure. You've just been jumped by the best."

Pinkworth glowered at Pike like he'd been wanting to glower at him for a long time. "Well, fuck him."

Joe's head sort of whirred five degrees to line up on Pinkworth and Pinkworth's glower wavered. There is a machine-like quality to Joe, as if he had tuned his body the way he might tune his Jeep, and, as the Jeep was perfectly tuned, so was his body. It was easy to imagine him doing a thousand pushups or running a hundred miles, as if his body were an instrument of his mind, as if his mind were a well of limitless resource and unimaginable strength. If the mind said start, the body would start. When the mind said stop, the body would stop, and whatever it would do, it would do with precision and exactness.

Dees said, "Long time, Joe. How's it going?"

Pike's head whirred back and he made a kind of head shrug.

"Talkative, as always." Dees looked at the people from Des Moines. "Pink, move those people along. We don't need a crowd." Pinkworth gave me tough, then pulled out his badge and sauntered over to the crowd. The fat kid's father didn't want to move along and made a deal out of it. Dees turned back to me. "You're this close to getting stepped on for obstruction and for impersonating an officer, Cole. We drop the hammer, your license is history."

I said, "What's your connection with Akeem D'Muere and the Eight-Deuce Gangster Boys?"

Dees blinked once, then made a little smile, like maybe he wasn't smiling at me, but at something he was thinking. "That's an official police investigation. That's what I'm telling you to stay away from. I'm also telling you to stay the hell out of Mark Thurman's personal life. You fuck with my people, you're fucking with me, and you don't want to do that. I'm a bad guy to fuck with."

Riggens made a sort of a coughing sound, then sat up, squinted at me, and said, "I'm gonna clean your ass, you fuck." He got most of his feet under himself but then the feet slipped out and he sort of stumbled backwards until he rammed his head into the green sedan's left front wheel with a thunk. He grabbed at his head and said, "Jesus."

Dees stared hard at me for another moment, then went to Riggens. "That's enough, Floyd."

Floyd said, "He hit me, Eric. The fuck's takin' the ride." There was blood on Riggens's face.

Dees bunched his fingers into Riggens's shirt and gave a single hard jerk that almost pulled Riggens off the ground and popped his head back against the sedan. "No one's going in, Floyd."

Riggens got up, took out a handkerchief, and dabbed at his head. The handkerchief came back red. "Shit."

I said, "Better get some ice."

"Fuck you."

Dees made a little hand move at Garcia. "Pete, take Floyd over there and get some ice."

Floyd said, "I don't need any goddamn ice. I'm fine."

Dees said, "You don't look fine. You look like a lush who got outclassed." When he said it his voice was hard and commanding and Floyd Riggens jerked sideways as if he had been hit with a cattle prod. Garcia went over to him and took him by the arm. Floyd shook his hand off but followed him into the Market.

Joe Pike said, "Elite."

Eric Dees's face went hard. "They're good, Joe. They didn't cut and walk away."

Pike's head whirred back to lock onto Eric Dees.

I said, 'That's the second time I've seen Riggens and the second time I've seen him drunk Your people always get shitfaced on duty?"

Dees came close to me. He was a little bit taller than me, and wider, and maybe six or eight years older. He reminded me of a couple of senior NCOs that I had known in the Army, men who were used to leading men and taking care of men and exercising authority over men. He said, "I take care of my people, asshole. You'd better worry about taking care of you."

Joe Pike said, "Easy, Eric."

Eric Dees said, "Easy what, Joe?" He looked back at me. "This is your wake-up call, and you're only going to get one. The little girl's problems with Mark are going to be solved. She's not going to need you anymore. That means you're off the board."

"Is that why four LAPD officers have nothing better to do than follow me around?"

"We followed you to talk to you. It was either talk to you or kill you."

"I'm shaking, Dees." The detective plays it tough. "What did Akeem D'Muere have to do with Lewis Washington's death?"

When I said Lewis Washington, Dees's eyes went hard and I wondered if I'd pushed too hard. "I'm trying to play square with you, Cole. Maybe because of Joe, or maybe because I'm a square guy, but if you're not smart enough to listen, there are other ways I can solve the problem."

"Where's Mark Thurman? You give him the day off?"

Dees looked at the ground like he was trying to think of the magic word, and then Pinkworth came back with Riggens and Garcia. As soon as Pinkworth turned away, the crowd came back. The fat kid's father was smiling. Riggens got into his sedan and Pinkworth and Garcia went back to the blue. Dees looked up at me with eyes that were profoundly tired. "You're not helping the girl, Cole. You think you are, but you're not."

"Maybe she has nothing to do with it anymore. Maybe it's larger than her. Maybe it's about Lewis Washington and Akeem D'Muere and why five LAPD officers are so scared of this that they're living in my shorts."

Dees nodded. Like he knew it was coming, but he wasn't especially glad to see it arrive. "It's your call, bubba."

Then he went back to his car and drove away.

Riggens cranked his sedan and took off after him with a lot of tire squealing. Garcia fired up the blue, and as they pulled out after Riggens, Pinkworth gave me the finger. When he gave me the finger the fat kid in the DES MOINES sweatshirt laughed and shook his dad's arm so that his dad would see.

A Kodak moment.