It was at that moment I realized that I was ready to kill Eddie Brock Oldstein. I was almost mad enough to pull out my pistol and make the half guard come out and face me.

Maybe I would have done it but there came behind me the honk of a car.

Driving up to the gate was a Cadillac limousine painted in shiny metallic gold.

While the security guard ran to open up the gate, the back door of the Caddy opened and a small white man leaned out.

“Are you Easy Rawlins?” he asked.

“I am.”

“Get in.”

The back of the limo was opulent. It had seating for eight or nine men. There was a bar replete with five kinds of whiskey, ice, crystal (not glass) for drinking, and even a telephone.

“This phone works?” I asked.

“Yes, it does,” Leon Starr said. “Jewelle Blue called me on it just a little while ago. We do a lotta work together in downtown LA. That’s why I agreed to this. She told me that you were a private investigator. I hope you don’t intend to cause me trouble.”

“I can honestly say that anything I do will be better for you than if I did nothing.”

Starr was a little thicker than Mr. Jericho but they seemed to be cut from the same original cloth. He stared at me, still wondering if he was making a mistake bringing me into his business. But Jewelle was a dynamo of construction in Southern California at that time. She could open doors for him that no mayor or governor had access to.

I rode with Leon Starr to the double-train-car offices of Pitman Construction. We walked into the building unmolested and through the entrance to Rinaldo’s small office.

When Pitman saw me again, I was sure that he planned to throw a paperweight or something, but . . .

“Hey, Rinaldo,” Starr said. “This man Rawlins needs some questions answered. I’d appreciate it if you gave him a few minutes.”

“I’m pretty busy right now, Lee,” the angry man said in a forced tone that approximated reasonableness.

“You’ll have to put everything on hold until Mr. Rawlins has asked his questions and you have answered them.”

Capitalism is a feral beast but I love her when she works for me.

“Okay, I guess,” Pitman said.

I turned to Leon Starr and said, “If you don’t mind I’d like to discuss my business with Mr. Pitman alone.”

The boss gave me a stately nod and left the little office, closing the door behind him.

Pitman was no longer angry. His expression can be best described as befuddled.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m the guy who knows the man your boss needs to do business.”

“What do you want?”

“Alonzo Griggs and Dennis Plennery,” I said. It was then that I noticed Pitman’s fists—they were flushed sledgehammers.