His live-in girlfriend, called Mary Donovan for at least the past three years, was a con woman, thief, bank robber, and, if you scratched deep enough, I’m sure you’d’ve discovered that she’d been involved in crimes that would get a person hanged. But in spite of all that, she and Melvin were deeply in love. Their love story was like a fairy tale finished in San Quentin just before the author was due for execution.

“She’s been taking me to these fancy parties lately,” the cop confessed. “Congressmen and senators, billionaires and movie stars. Says that I could move on up and become an important man in California.”

Their relationship was a disaster waiting to happen but you couldn’t tell either one of them what was in store.

“Looks good on you,” I said, telling the truth.

Pleasantries over, Melvin caught my eye and said, “Anatole found a murdered man at the back of a junkyard in Inglewood. Tells me that you’re the one told him about it.”

“I told him that I overheard some people talking at the Dragon’s Eye and that they said a man named Griggs was dead. Nobody said anything about him being murdered. And all I stumbled on were the words.”

“What people spoke these words?”

“I told Anatole. I was in a clench with a young woman around a corner from them. I didn’t see anybody and nobody mentioned any names but Griggs and Cafkin’s.”

I was lying of course. From the look in his beautiful taupe-colored eyes I could see that Melvin knew it.

“There was a lot of pornographic material on the scene,” he said. “He was found in a tin shack—did you know that?”

“Why are you here, Mel?”

“Griggs frequented the bar where you heard about him. He was what they call a talent scout.”

“So?”

“The night you told Anatole about what you heard, you were seen with Raymond Alexander at the Eye.”

“I already told you I was there.”

“But you neglected to mention Alexander.”

“I neglected to mention I took a piss too. What’s your point?”

“Griggs was shot.” It was a statement intended to indicate my, or my friend’s, culpability.

“Was he shot with a forty-one-caliber shell?” This was Mouse’s weapon of choice.

“Some people said that both you and Alexander had been asking about Griggs.”

He had me. There was no reason to continue that particular lie and so I took another tack.