“Ignore Dustin,” Marge said. “Zero in on Cameron. It’ll throw Pode off the track just in case he’s suspicious.”

“Okay.” Decker thought for a moment. “You want to poke around a little for me?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Armand Arlington.”

“Peter…”

“Don’t tell me you’re intimidated.”

“I like my job,” she said.

“One of my ears was beaten to death by an old rich guy she used to service,” Decker said. “She died today.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too. And I’m very pissed. A hooker I talked to said there’s a bunch of them out there who trawl the area looking for young streetwalkers to pounce on. You want to hear something funny? Cecil Pode said the same thing. And so did Hollywood PD. I called up a Vice dick named Beauchamps. He said there’s a group of men who called themselves the Loving Grandpas—”

“That’s sick.”

“They have stooges in Jeeps who do the soliciting so they can’t get busted. Hollywood has tried using undercover women, but they never take the bait. Beauchamps thinks someone is tipping them off.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Talk to the ladies of the night. They’ll open up more to a woman than a man. I know one of the pervs goes by the name Maurice. I think Arlington’s involved. I know it’s a long shot, but I’d love to stick him with the death of my ears, Kiki. A murder would be too big for protection. If he wasn’t the actual murderer, try to find out who it was. And try to get someone to implicate Arlington in this group.”

“You’re not hot for job security, are you?”

“My ex used to say I was self-destructive.”

“That’s a good adjective.”

“Will you do it?”

She sighed. “All right.”

“Thanks.”

They collected flotsam and jetsam, filling a bag and a half. Marge zipped up the sack and said:

“You go up first. I’ll tie the bags and you pull them up. Then drop the rope back and reel me in.”

Decker looked upward at the dangling cord and rubbed his hands together, grateful for the calluses, for the years of ranch work that had kept his body trim and muscular. But his arms, though strong and well defined, weren’t used to hoisting his own bulk. He felt his deltoids tighten, his pectorals strain, as he stretched toward the top. Man, he was hot. Goddam stupid to forget to take off his jacket before going down. He reached the top drenched in perspiration and knew his chest would be sore tomorrow.

“How we doing up there?” Marge shouted.

“Piece of cake,” he answered as he rolled his shoulders in their sockets. Again, he rubbed his hands together. Up came the bags, then Marge. The reeling in left him winded. The woman was no lightweight.