Beauden handed it across and then shot a gap in the oncoming traffic, made a left a block before Trenton. He drove fifty yards along the street, cut his lights and then swung a U-turn to the opposite kerb. The north side of Wilshire had a wide grass verge, and as Beauden edged the car back toward the boulevard they had a clear view on their left to the mouth of Trenton.

‘All right, stop. I can see his hood. Back us up a fraction.’

Vincent dialled nine-one-one, and Beauden reversed a few yards—the SUV’s nose just visible.

‘Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?’

Vincent said, ‘Yeah, hi, this is Beauden Ash. I’m with Bluesmoke Security. I’m visiting a client right now, there’s an SUV parked at the Wilshire end of Trenton Drive. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, I’m just concerned it’s been there a while, I think there’s a couple of guys in it. I’m worried they’re maybe casing someone. White Lincoln Navigator, smoked windows.’

The operator thanked him and said they would send a unit to check it out. Vincent clicked off.

Beauden said, ‘You better hope he’s tuned in to cop FM, otherwise he’ll just get a parking ticket.’

Beer on his breath. Vincent wondered how many Beauden had sunk while Vincent had been up in the room with Erin. He said, ‘You okay to drive?’

Beauden scoffed. ‘Man, give me a break.’

He took his phone back and opened Broadcastify. Thirty seconds later he had Beverly Hills Fire and Police Dispatch playing through the Caddy’s speakers, via Bluetooth. Beeps and status codes coming through under heavy static.

Vincent said, ‘How long you had this thing anyway?’

‘The car? Couple months.’ He grinned. ‘It’s part of my mid-life crisis, apparently. I was going to get a bike, but Kelly said if I did that, I’d need a new wife to go with it.’ He raised a hand. ‘Yeah, here we go.’

He boosted the stereo volume: ‘… repeat, be advised:suspicious vehicle sighted, Trenton Drive at Wilshire. Two-Adam-Five, do you copy?’

‘Yeah, copy dispatch. Westbound on Wilshire at Rodeo, we’ll check it out, over …’

Vincent said, ‘If they don’t move in the next minute, we’ll have to go over there. I don’t want some cop getting blasted.’

‘Yeah. Better you get arrested for killing someone in a parked car.’

Then the Navigator’s lights came on.

Vincent said, ‘All right, this is us. Stand by.’

He watched the Navigator nose out to the stop sign, white headlights lancing ahead into the traffic, the vehicle angling left—away from them—aiming to slip into the eastbound stream.

Vincent said, ‘All right: go, go, go.’