Her name was Tina Isbecki. I introduced myself, letting her think what she thought. Operators like me are trained to go with the flow. This is called lying.

I glanced across at the interview.

Who's that?

Sharla Lee. She's on the news.

Not the reporter. The man she's interviewing.

That's Mr. Gladstone. He owns the house.

The police had released the house, and now Mr. Gladstone was dumping the furniture. He would have to clean the house, paint it, and hope he could find a tenant who wouldn't mind living where a multiple-murderer blew out his own brains.

I turned back to Tina Isbecki.

Saw you on TV last night, saying now you could sleep easy. You looked very natural.

The Detective, buttering up the hostile subject.

She scowled.

That isn't at all what I said. I told'm now I could sleep because all the goddamned cops were out of the neighborhood. They made it look like I meant Mr. Byrd.

Did you know him very well?

I tried to avoid him. He was crude and offensive. The first time we met, he asked if I enjoyed anal sex. Just like that. Who would say something like that?

Welcome to Lionel Byrd.

Was he close to anyone here in the neighborhood?

I doubt it. A lot of these people are renters and boarders, and most are just kids. They come and they go.

Which was pretty much what Starkey had told me.

You must have been asked these things a hundred times.

A thousand. Let me answer your other questions to save us both time

She ticked off her answers, bending each finger back so far I thought it might snap.

No, I never saw anything suspicious. No, he never threatened me. No, I did not know he had been arrested, and I did not hear the gunshot. And yes, I am surprised he killed all those women, but this is Laurel Canyon.

She crossed her arms with a smugness indicating she had answered every question I could possibly ask.

I said, Did he have many visitors?

I never saw anyone.

Do you know how he got his drugs?

The smugness vanished.

A quantity of nonprescribed oxycodone was found in his home. Do you know what that is?

Well, of course I know, but I barely knew the man. There's no reason I would know he was a drug addict.

I understand. But we're wondering where he got the pills.

He didn't get them from me.

Defensive.

On the day of the evacuation, it was you who told the officers he was housebound?

That's right. I was concerned. He hadn't been driving, what with his foot. He couldn't press the brake.

When was the last time you saw him driving?

Believe it or not, I have more to do than watch my neighbors.

This isn't a test. I'm trying to get an idea how difficult it was for him to get around.