I wasn’t out in the fresh air of freedom for two seconds when I realized I had no way of getting back home. My car was still out in Ocean Park.

So I went back inside to a pay phone and called Kandi.

“You’re where?” she shrieked, when I told her where I was.

“At the Van Nuys Jail,” I repeated.

“What’re you doing in jail?”

“Getting sex tips from a hooker.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

I asked if she could tear herself away from the adventures of Beanie & the Cockroach and pick me up.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll be right there.”

Which wasn’t exactly true. It took her forty minutes to drive over from the studio, which left me plenty of time to sit on the front steps of the jail, breathing the fresh air of freedom, along with the carcinogens from the passing traffic.

“You poor thing!” Kandi said when she saw me. She put her arms around me and gave me a comforting hug.

“Phew,” she said, breaking away. “You smell just like rancid seaweed. What on earth happened?”

I gave her the Reader’s Digest version of my adventures.

I told her about how I’d been walking on the beach trying to figure out who on earth could’ve killed SueEllen, and how I’d stepped in a seaweedy wave, and how I was spying on Eduardo when he caught me and was about to drag me to his studio when the cops showed up and thought I was a burglar, and how they threw me in jail with Desiree, and that I was certain Eduardo was a killer who’d stop at nothing to keep the world from discovering the black lace panties in his underwear drawer.

“Holy Moses,” she said, when I was through.

My sentiments exactly.

“Desiree really slept with Mr. X?”

“Focus, Kandi. That’s not the main point. The main point is that Eduardo Jensen was the blonde Heidi saw on the day of the murder.”

By now we were inching along on the 405 freeway. There are times when it’s smooth sailing on the 405. Those times are usually between 3 and 3:05 a.m. The rest of the time, it’s the world’s longest parking lot. Kandi, always an impatient driver, was weaving in and out of the crawling stream, trying to catch the fastest lane.

“No,” she said, “the main point is you almost got killed. I told you this investigation was dangerous.”

“You were right,” I acknowledged.

“Now I hope you’ll listen to me when I tell you to…buzz off, jerkhead!”

“What?”

“Sorry, I was talking to that idiot in the BMW. Did you see the way he cut me off? Damn BMW drivers.

“I hope you choke on your cell phone!” she shouted out the window.

And then she burst out crying.

“Kandi, honey, it’s nothing to cry over. Just another self-centered BMW driver. There are millions of them out there.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s that creep Matt.”