“Anyone talk to Dustin Pode?”

“Someone from Culver City PD. Seems he was at work all morning. Security guard at his office says he checked in about six, around the same time as the fire.”

“Was the place insured?” he asked.

“Underinsured, Pete. Fact of the matter is Dustin had the place up for sale and had a prospective buyer. Guy who talked to Dustin said he sounded real pissed. Anything else?”

“Yeah. Check around and see if any fire starters have been spending a lot of cash lately.”

“Will do,” she said. “Are you going back to the station?”

“Probably,” said Decker. “Marge, when Mike’s done with Pode’s house, have him call Arnold Meisner and ask him to find Earl Pode’s medical records. Tell Mike to impress upon the doc that this is a homicide investigation and we need the chart ASAP.”

“What do you think you’re gonna find besides more evidence of child abuse.”

“I want to see if Earl was a bed wetter.”

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“I’m a close theorist. We all have our weaknesses.”

“Okay,” she said. “Check in with you later.”

He placed the mike back on the receiver, gripped the wheel, and pondered his dilemma. Dammit, he needed something more—a break! If he wanted to do right by Lindsey—maybe even by Kiki—it was time to put his butt on the line.

The executive offices of Arlington Steel were on the fifteenth floor of a downtown building that looked like a monolith carved from Swiss cheese. Odd holes and balconies robbed the structure of any smoothness of line. Decker took the elevator up. The receiving office was manned by a receptionist who had her nose buried in a donut and coffee. She was chunky, with big knockers and a permanently confused look branded on her face. He approached the desk.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

The woman looked up.

“I’d like to see Mr. Arlington.”

She started flipping through the appointment calendar.

“He’s not expecting me, but this…” He leaned in close. “This is a personal matter. I think he’d like to talk to me.”

“You can’t see Mr. Arlington without an appointment,” she said.

“But I have to see him. He’ll be very disappointed if he doesn’t see me.”

The baffled look deepened.

“Uh, let me buzz Ms. Scott, Mr. Arlington’s personal secretary—”

“Is she through that door?”

“Yes, all the offices are. But you can’t—”

“That’s okay.”

“Wait a minute,” the plump woman protested, hurrying after Decker as he sprinted down the hallway.