Davidson drummed his fingers. “No justification for pulling him in. We’ll have to take our chances. All right. Leave the partner until tomorrow.” The lieutenant took out a notebook. “So this is what I got. Decker, you’ll do the shopping mall and the partner. Dunn, you’ll do paper and the neighborhood. This…voodoo silver case has been turned in to forensics for printing. Anything else you got in mind?”

“Not at the moment,” Decker said.

“Keep me informed,” Davidson said.

“We thought we’d stop by the neighborhood tonight, sir,” Marge said. “Before we go home.”

Davidson squinted at both of them. “They musta whipped you two hard at Foothill, huh?”

“No, we’re just bucking for overtime,” Decker grinned.

Davidson cracked a smile. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. You want money, get a law degree.”

“He’s already a lawyer,” Marge said.

Davidson leaned back in his chair. “No shit?”

“No shit,” Decker said.

“No wonder you’re such a wiseass.” Davidson waved them away. “Do what you want, but forget about overtime. Jackass county keeps voting down police bonds, we’ll be lucky if we draw our salaries.” He turned to Marge. “You got a look on your face, Dunn. What is it?”

“Do you want us to contact the media for assistance?” Marge asked.

The lieutenant gave it some thought. “Wait until you see what you’ve dug up. If you draw blanks, we’ll contact the networks.”

“You got it.” Marge started to rise, then sat back down. “Something else, Lieutenant?”

Davidson ran the palm of his hand across his crew cut. “Nah, I’m through. Get out of here. Both of you.”

“Don’t stroke her ego,” Marge fumed.

Decker sat down at his new desk recycled from a branch of the LA County Library that was shut down because of budget cuts. It was a gun-metal gray institutional number, but it had a kneehole large enough to accommodate his oversized legs, and two big file banks for case folders. Marge had a marred but functional oak desk donated by an office manager who had been forced to fire his secretary. The desks were placed front end to front end, which meant Decker and Marge sat across from each other.

Decker pulled out a manila folder and started a file on the Yaloms. “At least he took us seriously, Marge.”

“He had to. The case warranted it.”

“That’s for damn sure.” Decker started filling out the paperwork and handed forms over to Marge. “I’ll start a file on each of the boys; you do the parents. We’ll Xerox all our papers and notes so we’ll each have copies at our fingertips.”

“Rabbi Organized. How do you feel about your fellow countrymen disappearing?”

“You mean the Yaloms?”

Marge said, “The little, wily, shrewd Israelis.”

Decker said, “Why do I feel Old Tug has some preconceived notions about Jews and money.”