He rubbed his face. “No body, because Tenney wanted to be careful not to leave physical evidence. Then after he and Baker and the others saw no progress had been made, they left the bloody shoes on the steps of the police station.”

“Blood they brushed in after they wrote DVLL,” I said. “So they'd planned it. Maybe Tenney's idea, probably Baker's. Not as clean a murder as Irit's because unlike Baker and Nolan, Tenney never fancied himself a centurion with ideals. Just an angry, hate-filled guy with a supposedly high IQ who couldn't get a better job than sweeping up dog dirt and hated the world because of it. Also, because Raymond was a boy, Tenney might not have seen the killing as a sex crime, felt no need to desexualize it. He snatched Raymond in the bathroom, got him to the van and incapacitated him or murdered him right there, drove somewhere, disposed of the body. Then he quit his job, disappeared.”

“Living at Zena's.”

“Not all this time,” I said. “Maybe he lived out of the van, maybe he crashed with other members of the club. And he won't be at Zena's for long. She said no more guests by tomorrow night. I got the sense some kind of movement's afoot.”

“Another killing?”

“Could be. What districts haven't been hit?”

“Half the city,” he said, “and the whole goddamn Valley. I could talk to Carmeli again about releasing that gag order- on the other hand, all we've got is supposition, not a shred of evidence, and if we alert Baker, anything he might have held on to will be destroyed, not a chance of ever getting to the truth- goddamn it, Alex, it's like having a map but no car- okay, onward. Irit. Baker and Dahl- they just happen to stake out the park, because they know kids go there?”

“Handicapped kids,” I said. “After Tenney got away with Raymond, I can see the group going for another retarded kid in a park. But there's a big difference between Raymond's and Irit's murders. Tenney worked in that park, was familiar with the layout. Raymond was a local kid, his class was using the park daily while the school was being painted, so Tenney had plenty of time to study him. Maybe he'd even had a run-in with Raymond. Or one of Raymond's gang-banger brothers.”

I motioned him to the door, led him out of the apartment, to the front steps.

“What?” he said.

“Just in case you don't want Carmeli to hear this,” I said. “The conservancy wasn't part of Baker and Dahl's patrol area. And Irit's school only visited once a year. So why was Irit selected as victim? Baker's into control. Manipulative, a planner. He took the time to manipulate the daily log for weeks, so I can't believe he'd choose a victim randomly. What made Irit right for him? Could it have been something to do with work after all?”

“Carmeli?”

“We've both felt he's been hostile to the police from the beginning, Milo. Made remarks about police incompetence the first time we met him. I assumed he meant the lack of progress on Irit's murder but maybe it was something else. An unpleasant experience he had with LAPD before Irit's murder.”

“A run-in with Baker?” he said. “Something bad enough to cause Baker to murder the guy's daughter?”

“Ideologically and psychologically, Baker was already there,” I said. “He wouldn't need a big push, just a nudge. If Carmeli got on his bad side- something a mere mortal might have shrugged off- that could have been it. Both of us suspect Carmeli's Mossad or something like it. More than just the deputy consul for community liaison, but that's the face he presents to the public. Events organizer- the big Israeli Independence Day parade he ran last spring. LAPD would have had to be involved, for crowd management. Wouldn't it be interesting if Baker was part of the police contingent?”

We went back inside. The phone was ringing. I picked it up.

“It's Daniel. I'm down the block. May I join you?”

“Definitely,” I said.

“I've got a key. I'll let myself in.”

52

He wore his electrician's uniform under a windbreaker and carried a small black backpack. His expression was one I hadn't seen before. Guarded. Tense. “How was the party?”

Before I could answer, Milo motioned him to a chair. “What's with Sanger?”

“He never went to the party. I followed him from the hotel, downtown, to a building on Seventh Street near Flower, where he met with a psychologist.”

“Roone Lehmann,” I said. The guarded look dropped off. I told him about Nolan and Baker, my meeting with Lehmann. My suspicion about Lehmann.

He sat there, eyes half-closed, both hands on his knees.

“Lehmann is confirmed,” he finally said. “I got into his building, used a parabolic mike to listen to his conversation with Sanger. My station was a service closet. The mike's a small one, reception wasn't great. If I'd had a surveillance post in a neighboring building, I'd have chosen something more powerful. But I did manage to get most of it.”

“On tape?” said Milo.

Daniel took a microcassette out of the backpack. Milo held out his hand and Daniel gave it to him.

“As I said, the quality's poor, sometimes words are hard to understand, but the general meaning's clear. Want me to summarize?”

“Yeah.”

“Sanger and Lehmann are related- cousins. First they talked about aunts and uncles, children, a family party last Christmas in Connecticut. Lehmann's a bachelor and Sanger asked if he was getting laid. Lehmann said wouldn't you like to know and laughed. Then Sanger laughed, too.”

“There's a family resemblance,” I said. “Both are big, thick, have flat features and baggy eyes. Both are probably related to the Loomis family- you said cousins ran the company now.”

“The names we got weren't Lehmann or Sanger but you may be right… Yes, there is a resemblance, now that you point it out.”

“Something else,” I said. “The Loomises pride themselves on links to colonial England. When I was in Lehmann's office he made a big deal about a piece of silver on his desk that had sat in British Parliament.”

“Noble blood,” said Milo. “These two jokers do anything besides reminisce?”

Daniel said, “There was nothing about Meta or the murders or DVLL, I'm afraid, though there was plenty of racism. Lehmann said, “How's the hotel?' Sanger said, “Not bad, considering it's owned by a towel-head.' “Does that mean no hundred-thousand-dollar bar mitzvahs?' That kind of thing. Then they left the office and went down to a private club on the floor below. I couldn't figure out a way to get in there. Even if I had, all the cross-conversation would have made the mike useless. So instead, I entered Lehmann's office, because Sanger had brought a briefcase but didn't take it with him. I found it on a chair in Lehmann's inner office. We were guessing Sanger was a bagman for Meta, so I expected to find it full of money, but just the opposite: completely empty. In Lehmann's desk, however, I did come across a bag of cash. Two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Right process, wrong route,” said Milo. “The funds flow from west to east. Lehmann's the bagman.”

“Looks that way,” said Daniel. “They stayed in the club for an hour, came back smoking cigars and looking happy. They talked some more in the office, still no mention of Meta by name but Lehmann did say he was disappointed in “the group.' It had deteriorated into a social club, he hoped New developed into something.”

“ “New'?” said Milo. “Not “something new'?”

“No, New, one word. The name of something.” Daniel pointed to the cassette. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Later- New- so there's your subgroup.”

“Maybe it's spelled N-U,” I said. “As in New Utopia. In his article, Sanger called for that.”

They looked at each other.

“What else did they talk about?” Milo asked Daniel.