“So you’re okay with the kid? That’s good. He’s a trust fund baby, you know. So I suppose it’s laudable that he’s trying to work, although I can’t help but think that he has something up his sleeve.”

“Me, too,” Decker said. “What’s your take on it?”

“I don’t know. But why would a kid like that want to work with a small-town police department?”

“Probably this is the only place that would take him without a lick of experience.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. I gave him a six-week crash course. He was a quick learner, very smart, but obnoxious. I don’t get him. Why not go to law school, sit back on your ass, and spend Daddy’s bucks. Something’s on his mind.”

“Maybe he wants to write a Pulitzer Prize exposé.”

“Here? We’re boring. Not a scandal in fifty years.”

“Maybe he’s after a screenplay with verisimilitude.”

“Yeah, that would fit.” Radar handed Decker the printouts of the tattoos. “All right. Go back to New York and see if you can’t make something happen. If you happen to meet Tyler’s old man, tread lightly.”

“Tyler detests him, you know.”

“Nobody likes him. Jack’s a real schmuck. One day that man’s going to wind up with a bullet in his back and no one will be surprised.”

IN ANOTHER CONTEXT, Karen Bronson might not be beautiful, but she might have appeared fit: a good figure, nice tan, brown, straight hair cut in a neat bob. She had a lithe body and long arms and legs. Her face was long with thin lips and light, red-rimmed eyes with deep circles under the orbs. Like Decker, she hadn’t slept for many hours. Her husband also had an athlete’s build—long and lean with broad shoulders. They appeared to be in their early fifties. They had dressed strictly for comfort: sweatpants and sweatshirts. Decker came into the small interview room holding the printouts and a cup of coffee.

“Can I refill your cups for you?” Both of them shook their heads. “Peter Decker.” He shook their hands and sat down. The square footage of the place was very small. Intimacy was forced. “I’m so sorry for your terrible loss. This is my case and I’m going to do everything I possibly can to find out what happened and who did this.”

Jim spoke up. “No offense, Detective, but this is a very small town. I mean . . .” He threw up his hands. “Have you done this before?”

“I was a Los Angeles Police Department lieutenant before I came out here. And I’ve worked hundreds of homicides. I promise I’ll do everything I can. And I’ll be sure to keep in touch. Like I said, call me anytime.”

“So this was like a retirement job or . . .”

“Exactly.”

“When did you leave Los Angeles?”