“Yes, I did say that. And yes, he was a diamond dealer. No, Marge, I don’t know if there’s any connection between his murder and our case. But I’ll look into it.”

Marge said, “Why should I bother talking to you when you can talk for both of us?”

She cut the line. Decker hung up the mike.

Touchy, touchy, touchy!

No problem finding the car. The off-balanced Aerostar looked like an iceberg floating in a sea of concrete. Decker pulled the unmarked behind the HP cruiser and got out. Rachel Parks was a compact brunette with short, curly hair and gray eyes. She had to crane her neck to make eye contact with Decker. “Traffic bad?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. I appreciate you waiting. Anything I should know before I check out the van?”

Rachel said, “I’ve made a couple of preliminary contacts. The HP and Triple A have no record of any distress calls coming through the nearest call boxes. I’ve also had time to phone the closest service station. I figured maybe the lady called from there. Nothing so far. What’s going on?”

Decker recapped the details, then they both went back to work. Rachel began making inquiries from her car radio, Decker slipped on latex gloves, readying himself to tackle the van forensically.

He opened the driver’s door. The van had seated seven—two captain seats up front, a bench seat for two in the middle, and a bench seat for three in the back. There were lots of cup holders and most of them were filled with boxes of kosher fruitade. There were a few kosher candy wrappers littering the seats and floors.

Pulling up cushions, he searched underneath the seats—clean and crumbless unlike most family cars. The floor carpet was also free from dirt and food. The rental places must vacuum them carefully.

On to the glove compartment. Then the console between the two captain seats, then the door consoles. He looked inside the roof-mounted sunglass case. He ran his hands inside the pockets lining the back of the captain seats. He flipped visors, he opened vanity mirrors and ashtrays and panels that held electrical wiring. Nothing.

He stepped outside the car, looked under the hood. In the radiator, in the oil tank. He went over to the back of the van and opened the hatch—empty except for a deflated spare tire mounted on the side.

Disgusted and disappointed, he began to grid-sweep the immediate area around the van. The wind swept lots of garbage along the sides of the freeway. Decker meticulously searched through the trash but still came up dry.