“He told you this after meeting him once?”

“The guy was a loudmouth. He said Darnell was a moron who blew the entire operation when he got caught. Even talking about it made him mad. I got the feeling that Rudy felt Darnell owed him something.”

“You don’t remember Rudy Banks from North Valley High.”

“First off, I was never in school. Also, I think he was out by the time I got bused into the valley.”

“He was out of school but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t still running drugs.”

“Still running drugs?”

“According to some people, Rudy ran drugs while he was enrolled in North Valley.”

“Don’t surprise me.”

“Did you ever call up Darnell to ask if he had run drugs for Rudy?”

“No, ma’am. By the time I opened for the Sluts, I hadn’t spoken to Darnell in a long time. He had his new life. He didn’t want nothing to do with Leroy and me.”

“Maybe you hadn’t spoken to him, but maybe Leroy had.”

“I already told you that Darnell didn’t have money to pay off Leroy.”

“But Rudy had plenty of money to hire Leroy.”

“I don’t think Rudy ever met Leroy.”

“Was Leroy at your show when you opened for the Sluts?”

“Yeah, I see what you’re saying. He might have been backstage with me and met the band. But this was way after Dr. Ben’s murder.”

“And after the show, the Doodoo Sluts broke up?”

“More or less. Primo went into producing full-time. I don’t know what happened to Rudy, Ryan, and the Irishman. As for me, I was living the high life until a hype flushed the dream down the toilet.” A heavy sigh. “I keep tellin’ myself that it was for the best. Maybe one day I’ll believe it.”

Marge let the words hang in the air. Then she said, “What was Leroy Josephson’s role when you were recording with Primo? After all, he was the one who set you up with Ekerling?”

“Leroy acted as my manager. He’d push the demo to the radio stations.”

“Did he and Ekerling work together to promote you?”

“Now that’s a good question.” He thought a moment. “The few times that Leroy came to the studio, Ekerling shooed him out. Leroy was pissed, but he understood. Mostly they did their things, and they did them separately. Leroy did the legwork…talking people into listening to the demo. And we were finally getting somewhere.” His face darkened. “We was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Marge regarded the newspaper clipping again. “I want to go back to Rudy Banks because his name keeps showing up in our investigation. You told me that Rudy was pissed at Darnell for getting caught. Was Rudy also pissed at Ben Little for busting open the operation?”

“I don’t know if there even was an operation. Rudy just told me that Darnell used to run drugs for him. This was a year or two after Little’s death. I certainly wasn’t going to call Darnell and ask if it was true. I didn’t care if it was true. I was doing my own thing and I’m sure Darnell was doing his own thing and that was that.”

“This is all coming at me very fast. We’re going to have to go over this again…and again.”

“I figured that. I can’t give you much more time today, but like I said, I’ll come in and make a statement to the police. I’ll accept the consequences for my actions, but I’m not going to implicate Darnell in anything. As far as I know, he didn’t do anything.”

“I’ve talked to him. He’s hiding something.”

“If he is, I don’t know about it. All I did was help a friend, and now he’s dead. I’ve carried some kind of queasy guilt in me for a long time. I’m ready to get rid of it and move on. That’s the key to living in peace, Sergeant, the ability to recognize your mistakes and then to move on.”

CHAPTER 31

THE CALL WAS from Marge.

Going sixty-five on the freeway, Decker had reservations about driving while connected even though he had a hands-free option: too many people distracted for a nanomoment with dire consequences. The closest off-ramp was a mile away and would drop him deep in the Santa Monica Mountains. Reception would be challenging.

He skipped over Moraga Drive and passed up Sunset Boulevard-nowhere to pull over and park. His first opportunity came with the Wilshire off-ramp, but as soon as he got off, he realized he made a mistake. The major thoroughfare was clogged with traffic and lined with high skyscrapers that prevented any kind of clear reception. He waited until he had crawled through the corridor that bled into the main shopping district of Beverly Hills.

There were no big buildings to interfere with phone waves, but the congestion remained horrendous. He sat and sat while cars inched along, wondering if he should call back or park or wait until after he talked to Marilyn Eustis. At the last minute, he pulled his clunker onto Rodeo Drive and parked in a loading zone. He took out his notepad, rang up Marge, and was about to settle back for a phone conversation until he heard a knock on his window. A BHPD uniformed motorcycle cop with white hair and a walrus mustache was peering inside, his expression partially hidden behind shades. The scowl on his face was obvious.

“I’ve got to call you back,” Decker said when Marge answered. He rolled down the window. “I’m an LAPD police lieutenant and need to return a phone call for official business. Can you give me a minute?”

“You have a badge?”

“I have a badge and I also have a gun,” Decker told him. “I’m going to pull back my jacket to show it to you, reach into my pocket, and get you my identification, okay?”

“Go slow.”

“You bet.” Decker fished out his ID. The mustachioed man regarded it and nodded. “Try to make it quick. The merchants start screaming when access to their stores is blocked. You’re not going to take the heat, but I will.”

“I understand. I’ll be done in a moment. Thanks.”

After revving the handles of his motorcycle, the cop drove off. Decker redialed Marge. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?”

“On my way to see Marilyn Eustis.”

“Great. So you must have found out what I found out. Who told you?”

“Who told me what?”

“That Primo Ekerling used to produce Jervis Wenderhole under the name A-Tack.”

“He did?” Decker took out his notepad. “When was this?”

“About a year after Ben Little’s murder.” A pause. “So why are you going to see Eustis?”

“To find out if Primo Ekerling had recorded or had dealings with Travis Martel.”

“Travis Martel? The guy who’s in jail for Primo’s murder?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t Marilyn Eustis tell us that she didn’t know Martel or Perry?”

“Yes, she did, but that doesn’t mean that Ekerling didn’t know him.” He explained Cindy’s downloading of Martel’s rap song and the B and E lyrics.

“Ordinarily I’d say that’s reaching, but maybe not.” She recapped her conversation with Jervis Wenderhole. Decker had been sitting for around twenty minutes, taking notes and talking theories, when he was interrupted by a small, dark-complexioned man banging on his window. The chap was middle-aged with slicked black hair, and dressed completely in yellow. Even his croc boots had been dyed deep gold.

“Hold on, Marge.” Decker rolled down the window.

“You have to move right away,” the man yelled out in accented English. Out came Decker’s badge. “I don’t care if you’re the president, you have to move!”

Bossy dude, but he was in the right. Decker said, “One minute-”

“One minute!” The man screamed. “You’ve had twenty!”

“You’ve been timing me?”

“You bet your-…you need to move! I have a very important client coming any moment. This is a big space and he has a Phantom Rolls-Royce.”

Decker told Marge, “I have to call you back. I have to move. I’m blocking a space for a very important customer-”

“Client.”

“Excuse me. Client.” He hung up the cell and started the motor. “Sorry. You’re right. This is your space and you’re entitled to it.”