“I first came into contact with Cameron Smithson through a mutual acquaintance on or about July fifteenth of last year. After a brief discussion of security investments, Mr. Smithson offered to show me explicit, illegal, pornographic material for the disclosed sum of five thousand dollars per viewing. I accepted the invitation in the hope of gathering information that could lead to his arrest, since the thought of viewing such filth for pleasurable purposes was personally sickening. During the course of my investigation, I came into contact with Cecil Pode and his son, Earl, who appeared to be business partners with Mr. Smithson. I was about to delve further into this highly organized network of illicit activity when the police invaded the premises of 791 Brooks Avenue in Venice. I state this in order to aid in your ongoing police investigations and to put an end to the perversion that is so widespread in our society.”

He tossed the sheet of paper toward Decker.

“End of statement.”

“How did Cameron Smithson arrange the filming?” the captain asked.

“End of statement!” Arlington boomed, rising out of the chair.

“Where did Smithson get the films, Arlington?” Decker prodded. “Did he finance them and hire Cecil to do the camera work?”

“You heard my client, gentlemen. Now if you’ll excuse us…”

The captain pushed the stop button on the cassette player.

“What I just read was for the record,” Arlington scowled, brushing a piece of lint off of his lapel. “Now this is off the record.” He glowered at Decker. “If you ever, ever show your face around my homes or any of my offices again and try to roust me, I’ll personally cut off your balls, have them pickled, then eat them with my chef’s salad for lunch. I hope you understand what I’m saying, Sergeant?”

“Are you threatening my man, Arlington?” Morrison snapped.

“Just a statement of fact.” Arlington opened the door. “Good day.”

The two of them walked out.

“Asshole,” Decker muttered, then smiled at Morrison. “But we’ve got something.”

“Besides,” Birdwell said excitedly, “it’s all bluff. He knows he could be subpoenaed as a material witness to the raid. We all know that Arlington’s involvement goes deeper than a marijuana charge. Why else would his mouthpiece be so insistent upon immunity?”

“Immunity for anything connected with Cameron Smithson,” Decker said. “But not for everything. If we can connect him to other illicit activities, he’s an open target.”

“Like what?” Morrison asked.

“Soliciting minors for immoral purposes. Assault. Murder. Minor things like that.”

“You’re trying to link him to the Loving Grandpas?” Morrison asked.

“Yes,” Decker answered. “Who told you about them?”

“Someone called me from Hollywood and said Dunn had been questioning hookers about them. I figured she was there at your behest.”

“Loving Grandpas?” Birdwell asked.

“A club of old, rich pervs who beat up runaways,” Decker said.

“Jesus,” Birdwell said. “And Arlington’s connected with them?”

“Maybe,” answered Decker.