“My uncle was a silent partner in several card houses in Gardenia.” A beat. “This was a long time ago. Joey let go of the casinos ten years ago. He’s dead, you know.”

“I do know.”

“Good riddance.”

“What can you tell me about Melinda Little.”

“I was sixteen. The woman was a MILF.”

“A MILF?”

“Mother I’d Like to Fuck. Red hot. What does she look like now?”

“She’s still hot. Did her hotness get her into trouble back then?”

“Not with me, unfortunately.”

“Could there have been someone else?”

“There always could be someone else, but nothing I remember.”

“Did she owe your uncle money?”

“Decker, I didn’t keep track of her. I had just moved out to L.A. and had my own problems. If she was in hock big-time, I never knew about it.”

“How about a cop named Calvin Vitton?”

A pause. “Vaguely familiar.”

“He worked the Little case. He just blew his head off this morning.”

“If I were you, I’d look into that.”

Decker made a face, although Donatti couldn’t see it. “Thanks for the advice. Can you tell me anything about Vitton?”

“I recall that he was an old guy…” Another pause. “Let me think about him.”

“Fair enough. How about a guy named Primo Ekerling.”

“He’s a music producer,” Donatti told him. “What’d he do?”

“Someone whacked him and stuffed him into the trunk of his Mercedes in a manner reminiscent of Bennett Little’s murder.”

“This happen recently?”

“About two weeks ago.”

“Hmmm…can’t keep up with everything. You might want to look into his case, too. Maybe Ekerling and the cop and Little share a common link.”

“And what might that be?”

Another small laugh. “You expect me to do your work for you?”

“You owe me one for plugging me.”

“No, no, no. I settled the score with that one, pal. If anyone owes, you owe me.”

“Bullshit. That one doesn’t count.”

“Ask your sons if it doesn’t count.”

Silence. Then Decker said, “Call me if you think of something.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Just because you would.”

“Why don’t you call me if you think of something? ’Cause from where I’m sitting you’re not only barking up the wrong tree, you don’t even have a stump to piss on.”

CHAPTER 10

MELINDA LITTLE WARREN was not surprised by the detectives at her door. “You should have called first. I’m about to go out.”

As the inscrutable Colonel Dunn would have said: the woman was a cool cookie. Even her blond hair was more ice than amber. She wore a kelly green silk blouse and a pair of chino pants. Her feet were housed in rhinestone sandals. Marge said, “How about giving us a few minutes?”