“I’ve got a bit of a problem,” Decker started. “I’m not on your father’s case anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Personal reasons.”

“You arrest my brother, then you chickenshit out when the heat’s poured on.” Luke nodded. “Typical of L.A.’s finest.”

Decker said, “Sir, there are five other—”

“You arrested him. You listen to me.”

“Okay, you can talk to me. But I want other people to hear what you have to say. Because I’m not doing solo interviewing.”

“Why were you pulled off? Incompetence?”

Decker ignored him. “You see that over there?” He pointed to a reflective wall.

“It’s a one-way mirror.”

“Right.”

“You’ve got other people listening in.”

“Right. Can you truck with that?”

“Fine with me. Just that you’re gonna look like an asshole and I thought you might want a little privacy.”

Decker said, “Mind if I turn on the tape recorder?”

“Go ahead.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No…no, thank you.”

Decker turned on the tape. “So tell me how I’m going to look like an asshole.”

Luke rubbed his face, stared at the one-way mirror, then looked back at Decker. “Yesterday, I got a phone call from Reggie Decameron. About seven-thirty…maybe eight in the morning. He sounded…strange. Calm but serious. Which is very strange for Decameron. He said he needed to talk to me about my family. When I asked him to be more specific, he said it was a private matter, too personal to talk about over the phone. We set a meeting time at ten. His house.”

Luke scratched his head.

“He was already dead when I got there. He and some other man. They were both…covered with blood…and glass.” His voice dropped to a whisper. He blinked hard. “Lots of broken glass.”

There was a long pause.

“It was all I could do to keep my stomach down. I would have left immediately except something caught my eye. There were about a dozen magazines…in plain brown wrappers.” He waited a beat. “They had my brother’s name on them.”

Again, he stopped talking.

“I picked one up, took off the cover. It was homosexual pornography. Explicit…revolting shit!”

The room was silent.

“I totally freaked. I ran outside, got in my car, and peeled rubber. A block later, I pulled over and threw up. I was shaking so badly, I couldn’t drive.”

Sweat had formed on Luke’s face, had deepened the color of his shirt under his armpits. Decker poured him a glass of water. Luke downed the contents in a few gulps.

“I must have sat there for…I don’t know…ten minutes. Maybe longer, maybe shorter. I knew I had to go back.”

“Why?”