Decker stared at him. “You been listening in on my phone conversations, Paul?”

MacPherson shrugged. “I can’t help it if you tie up the party line.”

Decker said, “You amaze me, Paul. Every day you reach new heights of assholism.”

“Admit it, Pete,” MacPherson said. “We’re all voyeurs and eavesdroppers. That’s our field. Probing.”

“You eavesdropped on my personal phone conversation. Paul, that’s so…juvenile.”

“I hope you find out what’s troubling your lass.”

Decker gave him a murderous look. MacPherson winked and went back to his paperwork.

Marge hung up the phone and said, “This scumbag look familiar to you?” She tossed Decker the photo. Decker studied it for a moment, then shook his head. “Who is he?”

“He’s the asshole husband of the lady last night.”

“Oh.” Decker concentrated on the picture for a long time. “No. I don’t know him. How’s the lady doing? When you called last night, you said she was pretty upset.”

“I just got off the phone with her bounty hunter. He said she’d calmed down. He sent her back this morning. He’s still in L.A. and is going to look through our mug books. I know this joker lives in our area.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” Decker said.

“What are you doing this morning?” Marge asked.

“I’ve got a court appearance at one-thirty. I have to go downtown, can you believe that noise? The Lessing case.”

“Why aren’t they arraigning him at Van Nuys?”

“’Cause they’ve got him booked downtown. He was out on bail, and raped a girl in Wilshire Division. Shit, what is the matter with these judges? I think Lessing’s bail was only ten grand.”

“Probably the same bail as your buddy’s,” Marge said.

“Dunn, don’t start with me,” Decker said.

“Just pointing out a certain irony.”

Decker said, “Thank you, Detective Dunn, for that little lesson. I think I’ll be useful and go back up to the Manfred development right now. Talk to Patty Bingham—the one you thought was hiding something. Maybe contact a few of the neighbors we missed yesterday. Want to come with me?”

“I’ve got a date with a twelve-year-old charged with vehicular manslaughter,” Marge said.

“Tut, tut,” MacPherson said, looking up from his paperwork. “What is this world coming to?”

“See you later,” Decker said to Marge.

“Have a splendid time tonight, Peter,” MacPherson said.

“Eat your heart out, Paulie.”

A peroxide blonde opened the door until the chain stopped its advance. Her complexion was sallow, her eyes a strange shade of seawater green. Kids were screaming in the background.

“Yes?” she said.

“Police, Mrs. Bingham.” Decker showed her his badge. “I’d like a few minutes of your time.”

The green orbs began to dart in their sockets.

“What do you want?”