He skipped over Moraga Drive and passed up Sunset Boulevard—nowhere to pull over and park. His first opportunity came with the Wilshire off-ramp, but as soon as he got off, he realized he made a mistake. The major thoroughfare was clogged with traffic and lined with high skyscrapers that prevented any kind of clear reception. He waited until he had crawled through the corridor that bled into the main shopping district of Beverly Hills.

There were no big buildings to interfere with phone waves, but the congestion remained horrendous. He sat and sat while cars inched along, wondering if he should call back or park or wait until after he talked to Marilyn Eustis. At the last minute, he pulled his clunker onto Rodeo Drive and parked in a loading zone. He took out his notepad, rang up Marge, and was about to settle back for a phone conversation until he heard a knock on his window. A BHPD uniformed motorcycle cop with white hair and a walrus mustache was peering inside, his expression partially hidden behind shades. The scowl on his face was obvious.

“I’ve got to call you back,” Decker said when Marge answered. He rolled down the window. “I’m an LAPD police lieutenant and need to return a phone call for official business. Can you give me a minute?”

“You have a badge?”

“I have a badge and I also have a gun,” Decker told him. “I’m going to pull back my jacket to show it to you, reach into my pocket, and get you my identification, okay?”

“Go slow.”

“You bet.” Decker fished out his ID. The mustachioed man regarded it and nodded. “Try to make it quick. The merchants start screaming when access to their stores is blocked. You’re not going to take the heat, but I will.”

“I understand. I’ll be done in a moment. Thanks.”

After revving the handles of his motorcycle, the cop drove off. Decker redialed Marge. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?”

“On my way to see Marilyn Eustis.”

“Great. So you must have found out what I found out. Who told you?”

“Who told me what?”

“That Primo Ekerling used to produce Jervis Wenderhole under the name A-Tack.”

“He did?” Decker took out his notepad. “When was this?”

“About a year after Ben Little’s murder.” A pause. “So why are you going to see Eustis?”

“To find out if Primo Ekerling had recorded or had dealings with Travis Martel.”

“Travis Martel? The guy who’s in jail for Primo’s murder?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t Marilyn Eustis tell us that she didn’t know Martel or Perry?”

“Yes, she did, but that doesn’t mean that Ekerling didn’t know him.” He explained Cindy’s downloading of Martel’s rap song and the B and E lyrics.