“But it doesn’t hide the memory…seeing him.” Parker shuddered.

True enough, Decker thought. “What time did Mr. Harrow leave with the man in the picture?”

“Around eleven,” Parker said.

“You’re sure?” Cleveland asked.

“Looked at the clock myself.” Parker sighed. “Without Mr. Harrow feeding the kitty, I knew it was going to be a long night.”

Reaching into his coat pocket, Decker pulled out a flier with pictures of Hersh and Noam on it—a copy of the ones he and Marge had used when they’d canvassed Westwood. He pointed to Noam’s picture. “Ever see this boy before?”

Parker studied Noam’s picture, then shook his head.

“Any other patrons see Harrow leave with this guy?” Decker was pointing at Hersh again.

“They might have.” Parker shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know if they met others afterward, I don’t know if he was…killed…right after he left.”

Decker looked at Cleveland, cocked his head to the side. Cleveland called over one of the uniforms and said, “Mr. Parker, would you mind going with Deputy”—his eyes went to the name tag attached to a khaki-clad deputy with buckteeth—“with Deputy Sanders and giving him a complete statement?”

“Not at all,” Parker said. “I couldn’t sleep right now if you gave me a thousand Seconals. It’s that man’s face.” He pointed to the picture of Hersh. “It’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah,” Cleveland said. “Try to calm down. Deputy Sanders, can you take him into the squad car?” He waved them both away, then looked at Decker.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Having told the story so many times, Decker had pared it down to its barest elements, recapping all the salient details in ten minutes. When he was done, Cleveland didn’t respond.

“I’m not trying to horn in on your case,” Decker said, “but I’ve got sixty, seventy of these fliers in my car. I think it might be a good idea for me to check out the local motels. If the murder took place at eleven, eleven-fifteen, the perps probably have taken off by now. But they couldn’t have gone too far without a car.”

“You’re sure they don’t have a car?” Cleveland asked.

“I’m not really sure of anything,” Decker said. “As of eight tonight, they hadn’t rented anything under their names or any of the known aliases. Now they could be using other names. Or they could have heisted a car. At least we should try to find out where they were.”

“You want to check out the fuck pads in Hollywood proper, that’s okay by me,” Cleveland said. “It’s LAPD’s jurisdiction anyway. I’ll have my men take care of West Hollywood.”

“Perfect,” Decker said.