“So did I, Loo. Turns out, it’s more complicated because they ran the thread and the bullet angles don’t fit exactly. I’m not such a big thread fan, but if it looks like science, juries love it, right? I got my confession all nailed, there’s no doubt whodunit, but the D.A. won’t proceed until everything’s buttoned down. I’m waiting for the autopsy to verify the flesh-troughs. My vic was supposed to be on the table last week but he’s still in the fridge. I drive down there this morning, thinking I’m going to pick up the autopsy report, all I leave with is excuses.”

“D.A.’s got you being an errand boy?”

Reed shrugged. “Whatever gets the case moving.”

“Crypt must be crazy busy,” said Milo. “I’m having trouble getting my female vic’s autopsy done.”

“They’re busy and it just got worse, Loo. One of their C.I.’s was murdered last night, few blocks away, while I was there. Sheriff’s Homicide was interviewing.”

“I know some of those guys. Who was it?”

“Someone named Bobby,” said Reed.

“Bob Norchow?”

“No, something Hispanic.”

Milo shook his head. “What happened?”

“From what I picked up, attempted robbery gone bad. It’s a tough neighborhood, guess no one’s immune … anyway, I’ve got time, Loo. Anything else?”

“Matter of fact, there is. I’m trying to trace a tip that came in from a pay phone on Venice Boulevard, your old turf. Who at Pacific should I call?”

“Sergeant Sunshine’s okay.”

“Sunshine,” said Milo. “Hope he brings a glow to my damn day.”

Sergeant Patrick Sunshine recommended Milo talk to the car covering that sector of Venice.

A patrolman named Thorpe answered. “That’s one of the last coiners still works, mostly transient dopers use it. Once in a while, street girls when they don’t want to run up their hours.”

Milo said, “My tipster was a male. Older, or trying to sound like it. Pointed me at someone named Monte.”

“Monte,” said Thorpe. “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell. What time did the tip come in?”

Milo checked the still-thin murder book. “Just after six p.m.”

“Could be anyone. Want me to ask around?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

“Phone booth,” said Thorpe. “Darn thing’s on its last legs, bet the phone company kills it like all the others.”

CHAPTER

16

I woke up at four a.m., inspired. Minutes later, I was at the computer.

Five hours later, I was headed toward Milo’s office.

He was away from his desk. A report from the fingerprint lab sat next to the murder book. Desmond Backer’s latents had been found on a wall of the turret, just to the right of the top step, and near the bottom frame of a window hole. Brigid Ochs, still listed as Jane Doe 014, had left palm prints on the floor.