“I don’t want to put you in a spot,” I said. “But we’re not talking confidential information, I could go downtown and access the data myself.”

“That’s true, hmm,” he said. “We’re talking the face-murder?”

“Yup.”

“That poor girl … tell you what, I’ll look it up and leave it on his desk. Along with a note saying you suggested the search based on …”

“Something I observed an hour ago.”

“Okay, consider it done. And I’ll give Dorrie your number.”

I said, “Once it’s on his desk, Sean, would passing it along to me be a problem? Seeing as it’s right out in the open?”

Silence.

“It’ll save him time, Sean, I promise he won’t mind.”

“Oh, man,” he said. “Yeah, you’ve always been straight with me, Doc. What addresses are we talking about?”

Chapter 34

he house on Alhama Drive was owned by one Oral Marshbarger.

The Web produced only a single person blessed with that name: an accountant at a firm in St. Louis.

Late to be calling over there, but I tried.

Voice mail coughed up a long list of extensions. “For Mr. Adams, dial 101. For Mr. Blalock, dial 102.”

I waited for the alphabet to glide by, punched 117.

A man answered, “Marshbarger.”

Misrepresenting yourself as a cop is a serious crime. Con-spieling while glossing over the details is hazy legal territory. It’s also an easy carney trick because most people pick up on buzzwords and don’t process details. Marshbarger, being a CPA, might mean he was the exception, but nothing ventured.

“Mr. Marshbarger, this is Alex Delaware working with the L.A. police on a case. Some question came up about a property you own in Woodland Hills on Alhama Drive.”

“Police? Don’t tell me they used it for that.”

“For what, sir?”

“Porn shoots, what else? When they showed up looking like that, all sweetness and … I guess you’d call it seductiveness—of course I was suspicious. I wanted to come right out and ask them if they were scouting for some porn outfit but I got worried there’d be some sort of sex-discrimination suit. Like would you ask us that if we were men? Nowadays everyone sues everyone for everything.”

I said, “When did their lease begin and what did they tell you about themselves?”

“So they did use it for that. Jesus.”

“You’re not in trouble, Mr. Marshbarger.”

“Why should I be in trouble? I’m the victim. The point is, it’s disgusting. And fraudulent, the house was clearly advertised as a personal residence. Did they trash the place, someone complained?”

“The house appears to be in fine shape.”

“Did they plant flowers?” said Marshbarger. “They promised to, that was part of the deal.”

“The garden looks great, sir.”

“I assure you, if there was some way I could’ve screened them, I would’ve, but what were my options?”

“Absolutely, sir.”