“So I really have to put up with all these rabbis’ enlightening words of wisdom?”

Rina thought a moment. “You may doze off during the speeches, Peter. That’s acceptable. But you may not snore. It’s déclassé.”

Decker grabbed the receiver with shaky, sleep-deprived hands.

Marge said, “Wake-up call.”

He looked at the clock. “Do you know what time it is?”

“’Bout quarter to six.”

“Obviously, something’s on your mind.”

“Obviously.”

“Hold on,” Decker whispered. “Let me put on a bathrobe and take the call in the other room.”

He’d been wondering when the fatigue was going to catch up with him, and now he could stop his ruminations. His eyes were heavy, his stomach a whirlpool of acid. He ached from muscles he never knew he had. He picked up the phone in the kitchen.

Marge said, “Remember when I spoke to Bert Stine, I told you it sounded to me as if Geoffrey Roberts left Berkeley under suspicious conditions?”

“Yeah?”

“So what if Roberts has been using an alias?”

“Roberts doesn’t have a record.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t do something wrong. It just means he hasn’t gotten caught.”

“Well, if he’s using an alias and has started over with a new Social Security number, profession, etcetera, etcetera, we’re not going to find him unless he gets caught for something else.”

“Pete, remember I said something about Roberts originally being Cuban?”

“So?”

“I think Cindy mentioned that Roberts changed his name to Anglicize himself. What if he went back to using his original name?”

Decker thought about it. “We can’t ask Tandy what the original name was.”

“I know. I was thinking more like we should check name changes registered in the courts at Berkeley. Trouble is, the official offices don’t open until nine. By that time, the case’ll be turned over to the FBI.”

“So this is why you called me at quarter to six?”

“Wait, there’s more,” Marge said. “Couldn’t sleep to save my soul, so I decided to pull an all-nighter. Bear with me and my far-fetched assumptions.”

“Shoot.”

“Let’s suppose Roberts did Anglicize his name. I figured he’d stick to a name that sounded like Geoffrey Roberts. So I worked backward. I looked at Hispanic surnames that sounded like Roberts—Roberto, Berto, Humberto, Umberto—”

“Those aren’t last names. They’re first names.”

“I found that out. So I started from scratch, went down the R’s in the phone book until I found something that sounded Hispanic and sounded like Roberts. The closest name I found was Robles. What do you think?”

Decker shrugged. “Roberts…Robles. Could be.”

“Well, it’s all I have. I started checking out all the Robleses, and I found quite a few possibilities. The one I like best is a Geraldo Robles. Geoffrey Roberts…Geraldo Robles. Guess where he lives, Pete?”

“In Westwood, right near UCLA.”